<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076</id><updated>2012-02-16T10:49:59.487-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What I'm Trying to Say is....</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>27</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-8921101587954041093</id><published>2010-12-09T19:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-09T19:54:06.250-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh your fucking God</title><content type='html'>Alright people who think they know everything about everything, you don't. Especially all you God fearing people who say condoms and birth control aren't natural. Of course they aren't, but neither is the computer you are reading this on, the clothes you are wearing, the car you drive to work, or the building you work in. So you can all just shut the fuck up and let people make their own choices. Just because somebody decides they want to have sex and not have a baby doesn't mean they don't love God or the person they are having sex with, it just means they don't want a baby and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. What if the mother and baby would die because the mom's body can't handle the stress of carrying a child? Should she just not have sex her whole life or risk her life for 15 minutes of fun and love? She shouldn't have to make that choice just because her church says it's not right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why I don't do the whole church, organized reliigion, bible thing. It's bullshit. If God is real he doesn't care if you go to church or read the Bible. He cares that you are true to yourself and trust in Him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-8921101587954041093?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/8921101587954041093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=8921101587954041093' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/8921101587954041093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/8921101587954041093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2010/12/oh-your-fucking-god.html' title='Oh your fucking God'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-6382023230462672134</id><published>2010-05-23T15:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-13T21:23:55.599-07:00</updated><title type='text'>running in the sun can burn your shit</title><content type='html'>So once upon a time there was this girl, she was nothing super special or anything, just a girl. One day during the summer after her freshman year she was hanging out with her friend Ashley. Ashley had another friend she wanted to hangout with so they went to her house&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 years later lauren is a fucking bitch and a half.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-6382023230462672134?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/6382023230462672134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=6382023230462672134' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/6382023230462672134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/6382023230462672134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2010/05/running-in-sun-can-burn-your-shit.html' title='running in the sun can burn your shit'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-930830014447867848</id><published>2010-02-18T16:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T16:15:38.624-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>you know those times where you just want to punch everybody in the face? well taylor makes me feel like that all the time. yea pretty much all i have to say is he's a giant fucking douchebag&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-930830014447867848?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/930830014447867848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=930830014447867848' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/930830014447867848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/930830014447867848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2010/02/you-know-those-times-where-you-just.html' title=''/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-7937781932701227090</id><published>2010-01-23T21:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-23T21:41:07.521-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i'm a mommy and he's the daddy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;taylor&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;decook&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so many things i want to say but just can't put into words, a lot of it isn't very nice either. he really just pisses me off to no end, and i drive myself fucking crazy because even though he does, i still always want him around. i suppose that's where i went wrong. i get all &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;wrapped&lt;/span&gt; up in how absolutely perfect he seems to me and am completely blind to flaws. actually only one flaw, he wants absolutely nothing to do with me at all. it's just hard ya know? like, today i was suppose to go hangout with him before he had to work and we had like planned it yesterday, and i knew he didn't exactly want me to come over there but he was at least trying to be nice for once so i wasn't going to waste the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;opportunity&lt;/span&gt;. so i text him when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; getting ready to go and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; like "so is it still &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; if i come over?" and he gets all shitty like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; the fucking grim reaper or some shit, so i decided fine i just won't go, then i guess he felt bad or something and was like whatever just come over sorry i got all shitty. so as you may have guess at this point i feel really wanted, ha. so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; driving and i pull out on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;lima&lt;/span&gt; and i just have a complete break down and ball the whole time &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;driving&lt;/span&gt; over there. as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; coming up to his road and i see his house i get all "i don't need him" and decide "you know what, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; just not going. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; gonna keep on driving and not say anything to him about it all." so that's, sorta, what i did. went right past the road, i did only go like 6 miles up &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;lima&lt;/span&gt; until i decided that if i didn't go over there at all i would just end up all upset later and be all shitty with myself. so i went over there but i still was carrying around that "i don't need him" attitude, and like didn't sit by him while we watched the movie. while i was sitting there though, i kept thinking "you know &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; just gonna be upset if i don't go sit by him at all." but i just couldn't bring myself to go over by him. i didn't feel like lazy at all though just i wouldn't let myself sit by him. eventually though my back started to kill and i had to move by him so i could lay down. but even now i cold really care less that i didn't sit by him longer. when i got home i was thinking about it and stuff and i came up with my actual feelings about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;taylor&lt;/span&gt;. i really like him, like more than i really let on to anybody no matter how much they think i like him. but the thing is, i like just liking him a whole fuck ton, i don't want to date him like i thought and like i told him. if i dated him i would end up eventually, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; just guessing here, not liking him quite as much. right now just want to be friends with him and that's it. but when i say friends, i mean like actual friends not this shit like i talk to him once a week if &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; lucky. so i want more than i have now, but not nearly as much as he thinks i want from him. and you know, being the mother of his child i think i at least deserve the friends thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-7937781932701227090?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/7937781932701227090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=7937781932701227090' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/7937781932701227090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/7937781932701227090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2010/01/im-mommy-and-hes-daddy.html' title='i&apos;m a mommy and he&apos;s the daddy'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-6700425271232369071</id><published>2009-11-05T14:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T14:58:57.848-08:00</updated><title type='text'>babies...</title><content type='html'>couple of current facts that I now call fate:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm pregnant&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Taylor Decook is the papa&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am due May fourth&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;now the reason I find these to be fate: I was just reading an old blog and it said that I was thinking about Taylor and then I said i randomly thought of Juno songs, and Juno is due May fourth, same day as me. weird huh?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-6700425271232369071?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/6700425271232369071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=6700425271232369071' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/6700425271232369071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/6700425271232369071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2009/11/babies.html' title='babies...'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-5865373343142978390</id><published>2009-08-15T18:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-15T18:53:54.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'>nutter butters and bracelet making!</title><content type='html'>so much to write, no time, no idea how to say it all. i did bad things this summer, but i don't want to talk about my biggest no-no. i didn't go to one party, i didn't play in the sand, i didn't tan, i didn't take long walks with my best friend and obsess over people's grass. i didn't sneak out but once or twice. long story short, SUMMER SUCKED. i was all excited to have my car and shit for the summer, being able to do anything i wanted when i wanted. it didn't happen at all. anything exciting that happened seems soo long ago, the summer flew by without ever really starting. its sad really. this is my second to last high school summer break and i did nothing. i know its totally my fault but mother nature really fucked me up this time around by making it all not summery.&lt;br /&gt;oh well though i suppose can't change it now. i guess i have to make the best of my school year. it should be an exciting one to say the least. scary stuffs about to happen. i hear its going to be my hardest year, my god-daughter is going to be born, i need to get a job. also so far its weird, i'm not as shy, i don't give a FUCK what people think, i seem to already have more friends, i'm not after 2472354 guys. i just sorta feel like i'm getting a hold of life now. i can't say i'm growing up because only those with the mind of a child think they will grow up. life's coming fast and i actually think i'm ready for it. i know what i want to do and will do anything to get there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;also trevor baldwin is pretty much one of the most amazing people i know and i take back 99% of any bad things i said about him, and apologize for the other 1%&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-5865373343142978390?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/5865373343142978390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=5865373343142978390' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/5865373343142978390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/5865373343142978390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2009/08/nutter-butters-and-bracelet-making.html' title='nutter butters and bracelet making!'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-6351858735533942731</id><published>2009-07-02T14:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T20:50:22.968-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ode to the teenage brain</title><content type='html'>what is it about the mind that compels us to do the most idiotic shit?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-6351858735533942731?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/6351858735533942731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=6351858735533942731' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/6351858735533942731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/6351858735533942731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2009/07/ode-to-teenage-brain.html' title='ode to the teenage brain'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-3657332442006729706</id><published>2009-04-28T15:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T15:44:49.038-07:00</updated><title type='text'>(insert cliche here)</title><content type='html'>i got redbull and vodka up in my haaaand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you look kinda cute in that polka-dot bakini girrrrrl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this what i wanna do, take off that polka-dot bakini girrrrrl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;drink all dayyy, play all niiight, let's get it poppin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm in miami biiiitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and that is how i feel currently. now if only that was what was actually happening. sadly it's not, instead i'm on the phone with fucking new york nick, who seems to get more annoying everytime i talk to him. i wish he didn't but he does. finally! he's done. mmk anyway things have been weird as of late. let me count the reasons why:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. my mood- soo unusual, i find EVERYBODY annoying as fuck. i never want to be around everybody i love and am familiar with. i do want to be around strangers who i don't know at all, and don't really want to. i just want them there for me to do what i please with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. my feelings toward the male race: i actually brok up with somebody for me. not them, me. and i did it so he doesn't hate me. i also, for once, am not even interested in going after anybody. what happens, happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. what happened when i was dating him: usually i'm like a total whore with my men, but we didn't even make out, just kisses. soo weird. i didn't even want to do anything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. jealousy factor: seeing couples, excluding one, doesn't make me hate them of the fact that i don't have what they do. i see them, excluding one, and think of how cute they are, then secretly wish them luck. whereas before, i passed out dirty looks like it was my fucking job and wanted to stab them for liking eachother. but but but, little things that never, well not often, bothered me before eat me away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. i don't want sex: yea i know weirrrrrrrd. like, don't get me wrong, if it was offered at the right time by anybody from a select list, i would sooo go for it. but, i'm not like chasing it, and i happy with that. please do NOT make comments on this, because i will punch you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. my head: i seriously considered shaving my head. i also am planning on hitting up wally world and buying some color and going for a change. yes my mom will FUCKING FREAK, but i don't even really care. it's my hair, if she doesnt like it that's not my problem. i mean what can she really do? ground me? psh i'll still leave when i want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. that ^: when did i start actually not caring?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mmk well the list is longer but i don't feel like going on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-3657332442006729706?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/3657332442006729706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=3657332442006729706' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/3657332442006729706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/3657332442006729706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2009/04/insert-cliche-here.html' title='(insert cliche here)'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-1944238751485872788</id><published>2009-02-27T12:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T13:00:49.957-08:00</updated><title type='text'>get on yo knees bitch.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/images/party" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i378.photobucket.com/albums/oo222/elsandall/party-1.png" border="0" alt="party Pictures, Images and Photos" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;PARTY.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;my birthday is in...29 days[:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and what am i gonna do until then?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;PARTY.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;then?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;PARTY.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;after then?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;PARTY.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;yes yes yes, i love to party, and the word party.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Saran wrap Ashley also loves to party. her and and an&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;ex of her's happen to love drinking then sex with uhh,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;well you can guess the reason she is called Saran wrap Ashley.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;gahh honestly. when will i stop laughing at that?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;NEVER.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;oh oh oh!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;taylor decook. aka current object of my affection.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;hahahhaha for some reason i just thought of Juno songs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;gahh that kid is amazing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-1944238751485872788?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/1944238751485872788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=1944238751485872788' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/1944238751485872788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/1944238751485872788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/get-on-yo-knees-bitch.html' title='get on yo knees bitch.'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-7478889151723793233</id><published>2009-02-22T11:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T11:44:07.195-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dig it.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/images/sunglasses" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i644.photobucket.com/albums/uu163/Sweet_face022/sunglassess.gif" border="0" alt="Sunglasses Pictures, Images and Photos" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;i want summer sooo bad right now. i'm tired of this stupid snow and cold and not being able to open the windows. grr.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;but but but&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;on a much happier note, my birthday is in 34 days&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;so that's pretty exciting. and and and im over trevor. i decided that i dont want him back i just want somebody and he was an easy target at the time. but now i have my eye on somebody new, well actually 2 people but one more than the other. and no, neither one is david, because i also decided that david is like my brother.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;i really have a lot that i want to say but now i cant&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;think of any of it and that makes me mad&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;but oh well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-7478889151723793233?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/7478889151723793233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=7478889151723793233' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/7478889151723793233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/7478889151723793233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/dig-it.html' title='Dig it.'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-190237514483319805</id><published>2009-02-15T09:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T09:58:31.151-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gahhhh</title><content type='html'>Now. I am honestly going to keep my resolution now. I know why I like sleeping around and it's stupid. I'm always second in all my friendships, I feel like they're always better than me and they know it. All of them  are prettier, skinnier, funnier, nicer, you name it and its better than me. What did I have going for me? Guys wanted sex from me, and not them. They get the realtionships with the good guys, and I get the sex. Even when I want a relationship I can't get it. I'm still second but sex makes me feel like shit now, so now I've got nothing going for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-190237514483319805?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/190237514483319805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=190237514483319805' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/190237514483319805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/190237514483319805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/gahhhh.html' title='Gahhhh'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-3631346548330680998</id><published>2009-02-06T17:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T17:44:12.991-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fuckadamnbitchuptheass.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Godfuckingshitdamn. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Once upon a time, life fucking sucks. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The End&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-3631346548330680998?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/3631346548330680998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=3631346548330680998' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/3631346548330680998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/3631346548330680998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/fuckadamnbitchuptheass.html' title='Fuckadamnbitchuptheass.'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-2748560829216462031</id><published>2009-02-03T13:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T13:36:05.716-08:00</updated><title type='text'>FunFact: Fort Wayne is the 3rd most sexually satisfied city in the United States, Indianapolis is the 1st. Go Indiana.</title><content type='html'>My New Year's Resolution:&lt;br /&gt;not to be such a whore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How's it working?&lt;br /&gt;not 100% great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why not?&lt;br /&gt;I like sex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean I haven't had any since ohh, New Year's Eve, but I definantly have been planning with quite a few kiddos. Honestly though, I can't help it. I knew the first time I did it I would never be able to stop. As I type, I'm texting two kids who I'm planning on fucking in the near future. The other day my mom came in and was talking to me about how all guys are interested in is sex, and the whole time I was thinking, 1) that's not true, I can think of at least 3 exapmles of guys who aren't, and 2) what if that's all I'm interested in? I mean yea, I really super like a kid right now who i don't want to do anything with yet cause I honestly like him. On the other hand though, get me talking to the right person and I just can't help myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-2748560829216462031?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/2748560829216462031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=2748560829216462031' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/2748560829216462031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/2748560829216462031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2009/02/funfact-fort-wayne-is-3rd-most-sexually.html' title='FunFact: Fort Wayne is the 3rd most sexually satisfied city in the United States, Indianapolis is the 1st. Go Indiana.'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-5933033760033660031</id><published>2009-01-29T15:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T15:38:51.611-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I would like to welcome you to my life.</title><content type='html'>So, heres the current happs. haha I love that word. So anyway, Brittany and Jackie moved yesterday/today to GodFuckingFarAwayNowhere, and I'm pretty upset. Like I almost started crying in Spanish today, yea I fucking love those two like they don't even know. Things with Trevor and I are, one could say, on the rocks. I talked to Jennifer today more than i have like total in the past two weeks and that was huge 20 mins, with her Trevor right there. Dre, possibly the greastest kid I have ever met, is having a wayyyyy rough time and I don't know what to do cause it's so bad he won't even tell me what happened and he pretty much tells me everything, so needless to say I'm worried. My favorite red pants have a huge hole near the crotch. My new birth control gives me migranes like you wouldn't believe. And I'm sure there is more i could add to that list but I think I'm gonna stop. On a a much happier note, I'm now frequently flirting with David, not that it's ever gonna go anywhere but I live to flirt so it's fun. Ashley and I are spending tons of time together, which is pretty great cause I love love love that girl. I might party with Ash Martin this weekend. I prolly will go to Chudz this weekend. And many other happy things. Still though, I hate change on this scale.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-5933033760033660031?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/5933033760033660031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=5933033760033660031' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/5933033760033660031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/5933033760033660031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-would-like-to-welcome-you-to-my-life.html' title='I would like to welcome you to my life.'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-2624361495899951622</id><published>2009-01-06T14:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T14:46:19.886-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The world burns bright with the smell of an apple blossom[:</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;To say the least, TODAY WAS FUCKING AMAZING. I don't just mean like the "day", but like since roughly 1 this morning. Why? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The short version:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1. got my best friend back baby&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;2. took the 2 easiest finals ever&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;3. have tons classes with most of my loves&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;4. i could actually eat lunch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;5. i still have bio with ash martin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;6. trevor looked pretty damn atractive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;7. trevor took me home&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;8. trevor told his girl he's not over me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;9. trevor told me he probably will break up with megan for me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;If you count every little detail, that list would be 8 miles long. Over the last few weeks I have really figured out the people that I honestly need, and the ones I don't. I really think 2009 is my year loves. Gahh I hate saying what I think, but it's chill cause I have to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;"&gt;:D!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-2624361495899951622?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/2624361495899951622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=2624361495899951622' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/2624361495899951622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/2624361495899951622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2009/01/world-burns-bright-with-smell-of-apple.html' title='The world burns bright with the smell of an apple blossom[:'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-8247771459709167364</id><published>2009-01-03T18:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T18:18:16.710-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i don't think i want another best friend ever again, to be quite honest.</title><content type='html'>i really cant believe her. like really, she's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;suppose&lt;/span&gt; to be my best friend. well she's not, and it's really stupid that something that could have been so small of an issue got hidden, and now just exploded in my face. like i &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; even care that she did it, it's the fact that she didn't tell me and didn't plan on telling me. AND she told &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;trevor&lt;/span&gt; fucking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;goodin&lt;/span&gt;, who she thinks of as more of a friend anyway, but lies through her fucking teeth telling him she loves him more than anything. but he knows, whats worse is i found out from him, while making myself look like an ass because i trusted her to tell me everything. she said she did, but she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt;. fuck this shit, best friend is just a stupid title you give to the person who can hurt you the most, and she did. good job &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;jennifer&lt;/span&gt; fucking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;kunklbitch&lt;/span&gt;, you filled the position great.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-8247771459709167364?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/8247771459709167364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=8247771459709167364' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/8247771459709167364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/8247771459709167364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-dont-think-i-want-another-best-friend.html' title='i don&apos;t think i want another best friend ever again, to be quite honest.'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-5815057098087754436</id><published>2008-12-08T17:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T17:35:52.281-08:00</updated><title type='text'>how i long to say what i want and make it sound how i want. i want to be a writer, but obviously cant be.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;you know that something inside of you still&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;plays a part in what i do always &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;the opening lyrics to my new found favorite song. it is not a song it is me. of course you may not think that because all music is left to the listeners interpretation. the irony is the person who showed me the song is currently the one who is playing the biggest part of me in way he will never know. i very recently finished a book titled Just Listen, by far one of the top books i have read. this book changed me, it changed how i think, how i feel, how i talk, how i react, how i am. it really is weird because its the typical story line, girl has problems, girl meets boy, boy helps girl with problems, boy and girl are together. but the girls problems seemed so close to my life even though they &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;arent&lt;/span&gt;, i mean i &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;dont&lt;/span&gt; have a mother &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;whos&lt;/span&gt; obsessed with what i do, or a sister with an eating disorder. but her problem, her own problem that nobody knows, was so much like my own the story just hit me. its too personal to be on here but read it and you will know i guess. but the way she keeps everything in and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;trys&lt;/span&gt; to keep everybody around her happy by not doing anything really is how i am. and i knew i was like that but it never clicked how much it was effecting me in everything i do. seeing it being the exact same for a different person, just being put in a different perspective, is what really got me thinking. i am where i am, because of who i am not because of anybody else. its why writing on here in a sensible order or fashion is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;sooo&lt;/span&gt; insanely hard, because i &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;dont&lt;/span&gt; know how to say how i feel or what i want. now that i say i am changed, i &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;dont&lt;/span&gt; mean over night i became totally different. its a process that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;im&lt;/span&gt; going through, taking what comes as it comes, day by day, changing little by little, but at the same time so quickly. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;im&lt;/span&gt; not sure what &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;im&lt;/span&gt; even trying to say here. all i know is this time &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;im&lt;/span&gt; not just saying &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;im&lt;/span&gt; changing, i actually am. for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-5815057098087754436?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/5815057098087754436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=5815057098087754436' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/5815057098087754436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/5815057098087754436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2008/12/how-i-long-to-say-what-i-want-and-make.html' title='how i long to say what i want and make it sound how i want. i want to be a writer, but obviously cant be.'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-737954106082591752</id><published>2008-11-15T07:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T17:58:01.817-08:00</updated><title type='text'>watering an apple blossom with tears</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;hey little apple blosssom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;what seems to be the problem&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;all the ones you tell your troubles to&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;they dont really care for you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;come and tell me what your thinking&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;cause just when the boat is sinking&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a little light is blinking&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and i will come and rescue you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;lots of girls walk around in tears&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;but thats not for you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;you been looking all around for years&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;for someone to tell your troubles to&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;come and sit with me and talk a while&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;let me see your pretty little smile&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;put your troubles in a littel pile&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and i will sort them out for you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;i'll fall in love with you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;i think i'll marry you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;damn song gets me crying everytime. so does the stupid picture that i can't seem to take off my fucking wall.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-737954106082591752?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/737954106082591752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=737954106082591752' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/737954106082591752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/737954106082591752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2008/11/watering-and-apple-blossom-with-tears.html' title='watering an apple blossom with tears'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-8606203163560943312</id><published>2008-11-09T09:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T15:14:46.653-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hollister pajama pants and a Girl Scout t-shirt</title><content type='html'>"I don't think your girlfriend can be your best friend."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have many opinions about that statement, but no way to convey them. I mean, what can I really say to that? Especially when I already have a hard time saying what I think.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-8606203163560943312?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/8606203163560943312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=8606203163560943312' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/8606203163560943312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/8606203163560943312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2008/11/hollister-pajama-pants-and-girl-scout-t.html' title='Hollister pajama pants and a Girl Scout t-shirt'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-7298604208318578776</id><published>2008-10-26T19:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T19:49:15.022-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I think that you don't know about.</title><content type='html'>These are my opinions and random things that I want to say but can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have told people I am a compulsive liar, but I really am not, does lying about it make me a compulsive liar?&lt;br /&gt;I try really hard to make people happy with me, but I don't do that for the people I live with.&lt;br /&gt;I get super annoyed at the human population and their abundance of ignorance.&lt;br /&gt;I lie a lot to certain people, but not at all to others, but that makes it really hard for them to believe I don't lie to them.&lt;br /&gt;I think a lot of what will eventually go on this list will be taken the wrong way, and thats why I would never say it out loud.&lt;br /&gt;I sometimes think that I am over-looked as a friend, and that I'm just sorta their for people if they don't have anything better, I'm like a filler.&lt;br /&gt;I'm really scared of the dark, but it's my favorite place to be.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not gonna lie, I think I am two-faced, but not in a bad way, even though that sounds funny. Like I act a way around certain people that I don't around others but that's just because of comfort levels, and I sorta see that as being two-faced.&lt;br /&gt;I almost never assert my opinion because I got tired of always being told I was wrong, and everybody arguing with me over it.&lt;br /&gt;I basically suck at relationships of any kind.&lt;br /&gt;Nobody really knows me and I think that's why I don't really know me.&lt;br /&gt;I think a lot of people argue so other people will think they are right even if they aren't, but I honestly will only argue with you if you are honestly wrong, and if I happen to have been mistaken I will openly admit it.&lt;br /&gt;I don't like be honestly happy because when I am I feel like nothing bad can happen so I say things that other people take offence in.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I think I care too much about how other people feel, and other times I feel like I don't care nearly enough.&lt;br /&gt;I have guilt issues, like I will feel wayy too guilty about things that are really nothing to worry about.&lt;br /&gt;I have a complex about taking the last of anything.&lt;br /&gt;I think too much of the world is way too close-minded, chances are I think you are close-minded.&lt;br /&gt;My house is really haunted.&lt;br /&gt;I make up a lot of things I say are facts or statistics but then come to find out they are actually true.&lt;br /&gt;If people really have former lives, I think I was Abraham Lincoln in my former life&lt;br /&gt;I think government is in the top 5 of "Most Retarded Things Ever" list.&lt;br /&gt;Number one on that list though, is organized religion.&lt;br /&gt;I think believing in God is a waist of time, but the belief in greater good is what makes great people.&lt;br /&gt;I think high school debate teams are pointless because cause anything they debate about is not even worth the time or energy.&lt;br /&gt;Someday I want to sit in a Walmart all day and take notes on the way people behave and interact.&lt;br /&gt;I think organization is all in how you look at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More will be written.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-7298604208318578776?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/7298604208318578776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=7298604208318578776' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/7298604208318578776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/7298604208318578776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2008/10/things-i-think-that-you-dont-know-about.html' title='Things I think that you don&apos;t know about.'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-2056638951124240239</id><published>2008-10-22T17:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T18:28:36.607-07:00</updated><title type='text'>oh to be stupid must be magical</title><content type='html'>called me 3 times today. and wanted to call me again tomorrow. only calls when he needs to feel loved and needs to feel power over something. usually a girl thats bugging him cause she doesnt like him, but who could? i did, but i got over that real quick like. well almost quick, i knew before i let anybody else. it was more of a pity relationship, even though he will deny that one hundred percent. he can think, but i will know it was. but how can you tell somebody you dont care without being a bitch? i definantly dont know how thats why i put up with it, pretend to half care and then forget everything he said when he hangs up. i think its too easy sometimes to really not care about what he says at all, especially when at one time i would have killed anyone who acted the way i do towards him. but i really dont care anymore. he is a thing of the past and i wish it would stay that way, thats all ive wanted for the past 8 months is for him to shut the fuck up. and i cant ignore him, well i could. actually i can and i am. so yea nevermind about what i was gonna say. no more new york nick, never ever ever.&lt;br /&gt;now the wisdom of a fire crotch ginger brain.&lt;br /&gt;ignorance is bliss. an over used phrase that is oh so true. which brings us to the socially inapt. you know, the people who sit behind you talking loudly like they know whats up and want everyone to know that they know, when in reality what they say is a load of crap and you know it so they really are just making themselves look even more stupid? or the people who talk like they own your ear and you have no rights to it anymore? you should know the ones im talking about. well the above mention is one such human being. but seriously what is with these people? did they miss the day in preschool when they taught us how to share and be polite and not talk eachothers ears off cause its rude and widely unexcepted? even among the intelligent these awkward beings wonder. it amazes me that they can make it through life as such. i think i would walk around naked before i was one of them. at the same time though i feel for them because they dont know the way they are, and if they do they are some stupid motherfuckers for staying that way. but really they just cant pick up on social cues, or give them out well. thats why they suck at life.&lt;br /&gt;so not wisdomy but it had to be said or i would walk around punching people.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-2056638951124240239?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/2056638951124240239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=2056638951124240239' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/2056638951124240239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/2056638951124240239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2008/10/oh-too-be-stupid-must-be-magical.html' title='oh to be stupid must be magical'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-6972180366238956372</id><published>2008-10-20T13:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T17:57:58.164-07:00</updated><title type='text'>and the world will be blind with color.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/images/meat+is+murder" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="meat is murder! Pictures, Images and Photos" src="http://i241.photobucket.com/albums/ff225/melshy/PiGMEATSUX.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anger- a strong feeling of displeasure and belligerence aroused by a wrong; wrath; ire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;take note of the word "wrong" in the above definition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wrong- not in accordance with what is morally right or good&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now think back over the last few says on what you have eaten. typically the respnose is as follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BF- something light, sometimes consisting of a meat product and/or a grain&lt;br /&gt;LN- something more than breakfast, almost always consisting of a meat product&lt;br /&gt;DR- usually more than lunch, always consisting of meat product, usually a grain, and usually a vegetable&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now take note of the fact that all of the above meals have the word meat in them. chances are that this meat was bought from a grocery store of some sort. which means that, chances are, this meat came from a machine, not the machine you think of like gears and metal and junk, but and organized system without feelings or a set of morals that does what it is told to do. where the animals are pumped full of synthetic growth hormones and kept in spaces a quarter of the size a normal animal of their breed abosolutely needs to survive. where they are castrated without pain killers after they are forced to breed before they come of proper age, then are brutally slaughtered, then sent someplace where they are further mutalated, and far too often they are not even dead yet, they are still alive and aware of what is going on. now if this was happening to the cute little dog sitting in another part of your house, you would deffinantly object even if it was just a little. they would ask why and you would argue that it was worng because the dog never did anything wrong, blah blah blah. now take note i used the word wrong to describe your argument, now think way far back when you took note of the definition of wrong, the exact word used in the definition of anger. now i ask you, if you are angry with the man tearing your dog apart, why are you not angry with the man tearing your dead cooked cow apart before it even gets to be a dead cooked cow. the meat industry of america is no longer ma and pa farms who kindly kill (yes an oxymoron i am aware) your way to survival.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;murder-to kill or slaughter inhumanly or barbarously&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mmk now read that definition carefully, memorize it. now re-read the way in which your meat is made for you. is it not the same? now put down the beef jerky, go buy a Smiths' album and look up the effects of your meat eatting behaviors. k? k good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MEAT IS MURDER. - The Smiths'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-6972180366238956372?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/6972180366238956372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=6972180366238956372' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/6972180366238956372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/6972180366238956372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2008/10/and-world-will-be-blind-with-color.html' title='and the world will be blind with color.'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-3414299631477649996</id><published>2008-10-19T17:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T17:19:11.541-07:00</updated><title type='text'>tagged!</title><content type='html'>wishes&lt;br /&gt;1. be with trevor a super long time&lt;br /&gt;2. the sky to rain whatever i want when i want&lt;br /&gt;3. for jackie and brittany not to move&lt;br /&gt;4. an apple tree&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;destinations&lt;br /&gt;1. kelseyville california, and yes it does exsist&lt;br /&gt;2. belgium&lt;br /&gt;3. argentina&lt;br /&gt;4. rome&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;careers&lt;br /&gt;1. physcologist&lt;br /&gt;2. potographer&lt;br /&gt;3. chef&lt;br /&gt;4. something to do with studying human behavior&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;at the gates of heaven i wanna hear&lt;br /&gt;1. they told you it exsisted&lt;br /&gt;2. why didnt you listen?&lt;br /&gt;3. oh well,&lt;br /&gt;4. im glad your here anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;victims&lt;br /&gt;uhhhh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-3414299631477649996?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/3414299631477649996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=3414299631477649996' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/3414299631477649996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/3414299631477649996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2008/10/wishes-1.html' title='tagged!'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-2647058100254007648</id><published>2008-10-19T11:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-19T12:16:38.195-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cheers</title><content type='html'>Cheers to all of the following:&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who wear what they want because they can, not because they have to&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who can get high on life and dont judge those who can't&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who do anything for their friends&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who don't have to lie and manipulate to be amazing&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who dance around then have people ask what they're doing&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who laugh as much as they love&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who still think the Backstreet Boys are the greatest boy band ever&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who know exactly what they want&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who have the courage to not know&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who don't just pretend to care about the environment because it's what's in&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who can call local bands there favorite&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who try to show they care&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who miss the good old days when boys had cooties and it was ok to push girls in the mud&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who look forward to getting older anyway&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who cry or will cry when there friends move away&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who walk with a purpose and talk at the top of their voice&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who you don't talk to much anymore but still would be there in a second if you asked&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who still think its fun to sleep in the grass and climb trees&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who find fun in life before they find pain&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who understand that what they believe isn't for everyone&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who trust until given reason not to&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who stay up til 3 in the morning just to be there for  you&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who give you lunch money&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who are growing up with out being a grown up&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who ask you to pray for a friend who needs it&lt;br /&gt;.all the kids who were there for you when you needed them most&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and cheers to the kids who will grow to be the adults who will still do all the same things just because they are a good person who never forgot what it's like to need someone, love someone, and just be someone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-2647058100254007648?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/2647058100254007648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=2647058100254007648' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/2647058100254007648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/2647058100254007648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2008/10/cheers.html' title='Cheers'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-4207644291666896231</id><published>2008-10-17T20:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-19T11:50:17.723-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Umm</title><content type='html'>You know those times where you feel everything at the same time? Like happy, sad, mad, jealousy, generosity, greed, and all the other feelings any human has ever felt? Like when you want to just scream at the top of your lungs in the middle of everyone, with out anybody hearing? Sometimes it's not even every feeling though, just an odd combination of them. Example: I watched Jeepers Creepers for the first time tonight, but when I saw the scary guy not only was I pretty darn scared, to say in a gentle way, but I found myself smiling and I couldn't help it. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you're lucky, but you're also missing out on an important human experience. See, even the importance of it is confusing. But what makes us feel this way? We feel our feelings because of certain chemicals released depending on what happens around us. But what would cause all of these chemicals to be released at the same time? I deffinantly don't have the answer, and I would love to meet the person who does.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-4207644291666896231?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/4207644291666896231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=4207644291666896231' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/4207644291666896231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/4207644291666896231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2008/10/umm.html' title='Umm'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-4044100836629192967</id><published>2008-10-15T18:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T18:42:49.460-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life's a Bitch</title><content type='html'>So it's been like forever, and I just remembered that I had this thing so I'm trying again. Anyway in the last few days I have learned that if you're not a bitch, life is. Why? Well, I did something that was not too great in the eyes of many a couple days ago, Friday actually, and I told my current significant other of this event and he flipped. The really shitty thing is that I told him I would do it, then I told him that I did it and when we talked about this thing he said he probably wouldnt care if i did it just once. His argument, however, was that I was trying to hide it from him, when I told him 6 hours after it happened because I was too busy to really discuss anything the night of the event. Now he says he doesn't know how he can trust me, when I have never shown any other sign of not being trust worthy. Unfortunatly today happened after Friday. While he was at B-dubs-supporting our school's speech team, of which we are a part- he talked to this girl in my grade and asked if she knew me. Now I don't know the exact details, but the story goes that she started talking shit about how I cheated on every boyfriend I have ever had and that is definantly not true. I have never actually cheated, I will admit one time something happened and closely resembled cheating but it was not. So now I have to beat her up tomorrow and I don't even know who it is yet, but tomorrow will be a fun day, no lie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-4044100836629192967?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/4044100836629192967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=4044100836629192967' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/4044100836629192967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/4044100836629192967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2008/10/lifes-bitch.html' title='Life&apos;s a Bitch'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1318532638974349076.post-2047247630243288410</id><published>2008-08-04T11:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-04T14:01:58.257-07:00</updated><title type='text'>just sayin</title><content type='html'>So, a couple days ago I decided to go completely straight-edge, that did NOT work. I have, however, given up drinking for quite some time. The reason? Half a bottle of Southern Comfort in 10 minutes, alone. Well basically alone, my friend had a little of it, but not enough to keep me from consuming wayyy too much. That night scared me shitless. No lie. I have never thrown up from drinking before, and I tend to way over do it most of the time anyway. This though, this was bad. I spent 3 and a half hours slung over my toilet. Lucky for me I had all my best friends at my house that night, none of which were anywhere near drunk. To make things so much more thoroughly unenjoyable, we had to go to Warped Tour, two hours after I finally stopped getting sick. I woke up still buzzed, and spent a good deal of that morning not knowing what I was doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this whole thing about telling people about stuff like this is new for me so I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing. But I'm sure I will get better at it.[:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1318532638974349076-2047247630243288410?l=kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/feeds/2047247630243288410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1318532638974349076&amp;postID=2047247630243288410' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/2047247630243288410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1318532638974349076/posts/default/2047247630243288410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kelseygingerbrain.blogspot.com/2008/08/just-sayin.html' title='just sayin'/><author><name>kelseyy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04831744689783687593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J5XGqOpivXM/SPaf5ZqPdXI/AAAAAAAAAAg/QvwmetqBsn0/S220/frog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
