<?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-1849198918029175980</id><updated>2011-07-30T16:47:06.995-07:00</updated><title type='text'>babble.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>316</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-5468472557661499100</id><published>2009-08-14T17:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T17:53:54.826-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I actually never left China.</title><content type='html'>I just realized I left China August 15th 2008.&lt;br /&gt;I'm returning August 16th 2009.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-5468472557661499100?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/5468472557661499100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=5468472557661499100' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5468472557661499100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5468472557661499100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-actually-never-left-china.html' title='I actually never left China.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-4294256756076512229</id><published>2009-08-13T16:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-13T16:27:51.088-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreamspace in New Mexico</title><content type='html'>http://manns.tmanndesign.com/manns/?p=1645&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-4294256756076512229?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/4294256756076512229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=4294256756076512229' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/4294256756076512229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/4294256756076512229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/08/dreamspace-in-new-mexico.html' title='Dreamspace in New Mexico'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-3449110643219932654</id><published>2009-08-07T15:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T15:30:58.679-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my anklet!!!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>Wow.&lt;br /&gt;My anklet of 9 years just came off.&lt;br /&gt;I inadvertently tore it off with a swift and soft gesture as I put my sock on.&lt;br /&gt;I left the room, leaving it broken on the carpet, without realizing I didn't have it any longer. Then returned to the room to get something. I looked down and I actually felt my heart beat at a different pace the moment I saw it there on the ground.&lt;br /&gt;Overly romanticized...I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I've been waiting for this moment for years.&lt;br /&gt;I've built it up for so long and I demand it to have meaning.&lt;br /&gt;There has to be a reason it came off today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far what I've got is all about numbers.&lt;br /&gt;I've had it on 9 years, and it came off 9 days before I'm leaving for China in the year 2009.&lt;br /&gt;There has to be more to it, but I don't know what that is yet...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-3449110643219932654?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/3449110643219932654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=3449110643219932654' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/3449110643219932654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/3449110643219932654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-anklet.html' title='my anklet!!!!!!!!'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-8723319481587717600</id><published>2009-08-07T14:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T14:11:46.557-07:00</updated><title type='text'>art videos, art dream, art dismantling.</title><content type='html'>Last night I discovered an archive of Art 21 videos on Fancast.com and so I'm on an art documentary binge.&lt;br /&gt;(Dad, if you're reading this, you should really check them out. Very interesting. Very chic.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it influenced my dream.&lt;br /&gt;I was in an attic full of boxes. Taylor's brother was there. We were looking through them. Neither of us knew what was in any of them, but we were slowly meandering through them, peering in to see what was there.&lt;br /&gt;I came upon one that had about a 3 foot wide, 4 foot tall wooden African mask attached to a log. The log had the bark peeled away in parts, other parts remaining but painted in saturated primary colors. The paint appeared slick, but it was dry.&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the box was filled with large sticks and things, all of them painted and decorated. Ryan said they were Taylor's, and I thought "of course they are!" And I was excited to see he had continued working with wood like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember any particular mood throughout the dream which is unusual for me.&lt;br /&gt;But I do remember when I woke up I was thinking about these little stick sculptures Taylor made and how I had mixed imagery from one of the videos with the art of his I've seen...creating awesome hybrid art.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also speaking of art, today I dismantled the dreamspace and washing machine.&lt;br /&gt;As I was removing the fabric from the wood I was sad, thinking of how they hold quite a few memories. I worried that removing the fabric would release those memories into the air to be lost forever...&lt;br /&gt;But.&lt;br /&gt;I tacked their fabric skins to the wall and there was a wonderful surprise!&lt;br /&gt;They looked awesome just draped, way better than they did stretched on their wooden frames.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm not sad anymore.&lt;br /&gt;Now I just need to decide whether to lug them along to China or send them to New Mexico...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-8723319481587717600?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/8723319481587717600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=8723319481587717600' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8723319481587717600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8723319481587717600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/08/art-videos-art-dream-art-dismantling.html' title='art videos, art dream, art dismantling.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-4292955776933821394</id><published>2009-08-06T16:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T16:57:30.452-07:00</updated><title type='text'>fabric freezer</title><content type='html'>I absolutely should have gotten a picture of the little girl that just brought home my fabric freezer...but I didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, she was so adorable and her parents were incredibly jolly so I feel very happy to have given it to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I know they'll pass it on to someone else when they're done with it because they said they're all about hand-me-downs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their daughter had a felt flower in her hair and was holding the same kind of doll I just bought for Madi the other day.&lt;br /&gt;I think I made that freezer just for her, but didn't know it. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yay for art going to kids!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-4292955776933821394?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/4292955776933821394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=4292955776933821394' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/4292955776933821394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/4292955776933821394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/08/fabric-freezer.html' title='fabric freezer'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-1644670926413116638</id><published>2009-08-06T11:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T11:37:19.540-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This is not embarrassing.</title><content type='html'>If you've ever thought I cracked a corny joke, or laughed at something really stupid,&lt;br /&gt;let me prove to you it runs in my family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father's blog:&lt;br /&gt;http://manns.tmanndesign.com/manns/?p=1634&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-1644670926413116638?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/1644670926413116638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=1644670926413116638' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1644670926413116638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1644670926413116638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/08/this-is-not-embarrassing.html' title='This is not embarrassing.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-64742951850697107</id><published>2009-08-04T13:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T13:46:55.987-07:00</updated><title type='text'>thinking about their climb.</title><content type='html'>I was just thinking about how Taylor and his brother Ryan are on Mount Rainier right now.&lt;br /&gt;They should be a couple days past half-way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So get this.&lt;br /&gt;I found a video of a guy taping himself and his friends climbing, pointing out the deep crevasses on either side, reminding the viewer of the danger climbing on ice and snow entails, and talking about how they were "1,000 percent in the elements!...dude."&lt;br /&gt;Thing is, he said they were about half-way up the mountain.&lt;br /&gt;Then he proceeded to call out the names of his buddies, which were Ryan and Taylor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I clicked on a link to his website to find out when he posted it, and it was almost exactly a year ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm becoming increasingly more sure that the universe is constantly performing intricate magic tricks that we're mostly unaware of.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-64742951850697107?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/64742951850697107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=64742951850697107' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/64742951850697107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/64742951850697107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/08/thinking-about-their-climb.html' title='thinking about their climb.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-5428090199727915342</id><published>2009-07-30T10:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-30T10:28:30.742-07:00</updated><title type='text'>boardwalk jumping.</title><content type='html'>Yesterday Jeremy and I jumped off the boardwalk at Boulevard.&lt;br /&gt;It was terrifying,&lt;br /&gt;thrilling,&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;satisfying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was always one of those things. I've walked the boardwalk a thousand times, each time the weather is nice teenagers would be balancing on the outer edge of the railing, teetering a little before jumping.&lt;br /&gt;I always thought "oh those kids. they're so brave...and young."&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I pretended I was an old woman to justify not doing it myself. It was my age, not a fear of heights that kept me from jumping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, Jeremy suggested it. I said no a few times, then yes, because I'm moving away and that's the best time to do things you don't particularly want to do because you won't be in that place with that option pretty soon.&lt;br /&gt;I was scared. But so was he.&lt;br /&gt;Both of us said stupid nonsensical things as we stood, toes dangling off the edge. Both of us had a heart beating like we were doing cardio while standing there, still.&lt;br /&gt;And both of us jumped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not like it's really all that high, but it felt like it was.&lt;br /&gt;And it's not like it was all that big of a deal for me,&lt;br /&gt;but it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. the first time, on the way down i screamed louder than i've screamed since childhood tantrums.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-5428090199727915342?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/5428090199727915342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=5428090199727915342' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5428090199727915342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5428090199727915342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/07/boardwalk-jumping.html' title='boardwalk jumping.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-6613996969197138001</id><published>2009-07-29T11:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T11:31:11.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'>moving business.</title><content type='html'>So far this moving thing has proved to be (practically) easy.&lt;br /&gt;I don't have too many things.&lt;br /&gt;I'm passing over my lease to a fellow, which means I don't have to do the major clean-up at the end of the lease, and I can leave my furniture and kitchen things for him and my current housemate to use.&lt;br /&gt;My bed is a thousand years old and probably rotting through the center so I can throw that away without feeling any guilt.&lt;br /&gt;My desk was very cheap so I can put it out for free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I've got a ride to goodwill in exchange for help moving a friend's things so I can get rid of other things unnecessary in China.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing I haven't come to a decision on is my dreamspace, washing machine, and mini-freezer.&lt;br /&gt;I tried craigslist to no avail. And today I called a lady who expressed interest a while back. Hopefully she'll call back.&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise I'd much rather not throw them away.&lt;br /&gt;My only thought is to remove the fabric from the frame of the dreamspace and washing machine, and pack them in my suitcase...? But what am I going to do with their shells later on????&lt;br /&gt;The freezer. I don't know. I like it a lot and don't really want to get rid of it. If I have kids, I want them to have it, but that makes the whole moving thing difficult. Either way, I want a kid to have it. But how?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate it, absolutely hate it, when art reminds you how impractical things can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, I've pretty much got all that stuff figured out. The emotional part not so much. The countdown on facebook and suitcase full of clothes on my floor are supposed to help with that.&lt;br /&gt;The visa, not yet. The ticket though, yes.&lt;br /&gt;The goodbyes I'm dreading.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I need to figure out the cell phone, internet, and mail...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stuff!&lt;br /&gt;sometimes you make me want to huff and puff,&lt;br /&gt;and blow you away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-6613996969197138001?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/6613996969197138001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=6613996969197138001' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/6613996969197138001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/6613996969197138001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/07/moving-business.html' title='moving business.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-1132706170416070562</id><published>2009-07-27T17:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T17:42:30.762-07:00</updated><title type='text'>just dreaming some more.</title><content type='html'>I was having an art show in a hotel lobby.&lt;br /&gt;I was dressed up and schmoozing with the viewers. My paintings were on thick paper, nailed to the walls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A young handsome guy came to me and told me he was interested in purchasing one of my paintings. I walked with him to the one he wanted. It was beginning to peel off the wall and I didn't understand why he wasn't judging me for my poor installation. I was embarrassed, but pretended it away.&lt;br /&gt;The painting was simple, mostly shades of ochre with minimal form. The paint was thick. I remember thinking it was quite nice, seeing it for the first time in my dream, impressed by my subconscious painting. (not that I could duplicate it in real life.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then somebody I hadn't seen in some significant amount of time came walking in, strolling down a ramp into the main lobby. A girl was walking close-by him, with him.&lt;br /&gt;Every thought, every emotion, every part of me focused in on him. I saw his face close-up. I saw the jacket he was wearing, and the way he bobbed side to side as he walked, grounding each step heavily. &lt;br /&gt;I approached him and asked about the girl.&lt;br /&gt;He explained her as a temporary. Just a girl that he was with, but didn't care about, followed up with a "but we'll be together later."&lt;br /&gt;????&lt;br /&gt;We went into a kitchen together and I intended to be angry but only mustered up confusion and hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later I was back with the guy interested in the painting and the guy just mentioned came by, admiring the painting with that girl in tow. It was painful to hear his compliments as he stood next to what was a stand-in for me, so I walked away, out of the dream entirely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Yesterday I was reading about the psychology of love about the varying attachment styles. There were words like trust, betrayal, and commitment being thrown around so I was thinking about what all of that means to me. Then I guess I conjured up this painful little scenario from those thoughts. Yay for emotional nightmares!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-1132706170416070562?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/1132706170416070562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=1132706170416070562' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1132706170416070562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1132706170416070562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/07/just-dreaming-some-more.html' title='just dreaming some more.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-5977566364438324470</id><published>2009-07-23T22:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T23:00:27.052-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the comfort of nature</title><content type='html'>Started off with a "moderate to strenuous" hike up the pine and cedar lake trail...on (happy) accident. There was a lot of laughing, at least on my part, because Jeremy, Dana and John are always cracking jokes. Pretty funny ones too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we approached the top it felt like we had climbed into the clouds. There was mist everywhere, droplets of it were falling. But it wasn't rain.&lt;br /&gt;It was peaceful and surreal up there.&lt;br /&gt;When we got to one of the lakes there was a notable silence except for the occasional yelling from people on the other side. I wished they weren't there, but that's not fair really. But in the moments when they were quiet there was complete calm.&lt;br /&gt;Then we went to find the viewpoints, and found a large rock that seemed like one of the official look out points. We sat there looking out but it was all mist. Multiple elderly folk came by asking what we should be able to see out there, and to each one we said we had no clue. One of them said her "gut insect" told her it should be a view of the San Juans.&lt;br /&gt;If only she had laughed at her own silly mistake I could have burst out and released the pressure in my chest from my hidden snickering! Gut Insect! That's hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, that was all really fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then tonight I went out on an evening stroll by myself and it was also fantastic. I saw the sunset at Boulevard while listening to Cat Stevens on my ipod. As I walked along bobbing my head to his sweet melodies I felt some genuine happiness mixed in with a touch of melancholy. Walking home there was an amazing rainbow.&lt;br /&gt;Rainbow + sunset + cat stevens = incredible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all today was a reminder that nature is healing.&lt;br /&gt;I've been feeling on and off sad, overwhelmed, lonely, and nervous.&lt;br /&gt;But hiking into the cloudy mist, hearing water pitter-patter on leaves, and seeing the sky saturated with deep hues makes everything better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-5977566364438324470?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/5977566364438324470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=5977566364438324470' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5977566364438324470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5977566364438324470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/07/comfort-of-nature.html' title='the comfort of nature'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-8237336465590817768</id><published>2009-07-22T14:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T14:31:40.400-07:00</updated><title type='text'>art cafe</title><content type='html'>Since graduating I've loved taking photographs, baking and cooking...and am beginning to wonder what the future holds.&lt;br /&gt;As in, how am I going to survive while avoiding a non-job that means nothing to me...that could also include some of the above (plus painting.)&lt;br /&gt;My current ideal future involves owning a gallery or a bakery/cafe, or BOTH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't that sound fantastic? I'm sure it would be a hell of a lot of work and generally overtake my life, but what a wonderful thing to do...offer art, food, drinks, and a comfortable spot to sit while listening to the occasional live poet or musician. Ideal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the thing is this isn't a new idea. I just keep pushing it away, avoiding it for lack of confidence in being capable of achieving it. In high-school my friends used to say I'd open up an art cafe. Guys, the idea is still alive...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only thing is I don't know what I need to do in the meantime to move towards approaching this goal.&lt;br /&gt;And I have no clue where to do it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-8237336465590817768?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/8237336465590817768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=8237336465590817768' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8237336465590817768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8237336465590817768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/07/art-cafe.html' title='art cafe'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-6861402828197818335</id><published>2009-07-11T22:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T22:20:17.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'>500 miles</title><content type='html'>In Freaks in Geeks this one time Nick lip-sings a song to Lindsey. She was entirely put off by it. But honestly since watching that scene like 6 years back, I've wanted someone to sing this Proclaimers song to me.&lt;br /&gt;(It's ridiculous and I have no idea why I'm thinking about this right now,&lt;br /&gt;but strange things don't seem all that strange at the moment because I just got back from watching Bruno...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I wake up, well I know i'm gonna be,&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next to you&lt;br /&gt;When I go out, yeah I know I'm gonna be&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you&lt;br /&gt;If I get drunk, well I know I'm gonna be&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you&lt;br /&gt;And if I haver, Yeah I know I'm gonna be&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna be the man who's havering to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I would walk 500 miles&lt;br /&gt;And I would walk 500 more&lt;br /&gt;Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles&lt;br /&gt;To fall down at your door&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I'm working, yes I know I'm gonna be&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna be the man who's working hard for you&lt;br /&gt;And when the money, comes in for the work I do&lt;br /&gt;I'll pass almost every penny on to you&lt;br /&gt;When I come home(When I come home), well I know I'm gonna be&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna be the man who comes back home to you&lt;br /&gt;And if I grow-old,(When I grow-old) well I know I'm gonna be&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna be the man who's growing old with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I would walk 500 miles&lt;br /&gt;And I would walk 500 more&lt;br /&gt;Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles&lt;br /&gt;To fall down at your door&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;da da da (da da da)&lt;br /&gt;da da da (da da da)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Uh Da&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;da da da (da da da)&lt;br /&gt;da da da (da da da)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Uh Da&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I'm lonely, well I know I'm gonna be&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you&lt;br /&gt;And when I'm dreaming, well I know I'm gonna dream&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna Dream about the time when I'm with you&lt;br /&gt;When I go out(When I go out), well I know I'm gonna be&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you&lt;br /&gt;And when I come home(When I come home), yes I know I'm gonna be&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna be the man who comes back home with you&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna be the man who's coming home with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I would walk 500 miles&lt;br /&gt;And I would walk 500 more&lt;br /&gt;Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles&lt;br /&gt;To fall down at your door&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;da da da (da da da)&lt;br /&gt;da da da (da da da)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Uh Da&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;da da da (da da da)&lt;br /&gt;da da da (da da da)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Uh Da&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;da da da (da da da)&lt;br /&gt;da da da (da da da)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Uh Da&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;da da da (da da da)&lt;br /&gt;da da da (da da da)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da Da Da Dun Diddle Un Diddle Un Diddle Uh Da&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I would walk 500 miles&lt;br /&gt;And I would walk 500 more&lt;br /&gt;Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles&lt;br /&gt;To fall down at your door&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-6861402828197818335?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/6861402828197818335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=6861402828197818335' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/6861402828197818335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/6861402828197818335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/07/500-miles.html' title='500 miles'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-1539485383555859859</id><published>2009-07-11T15:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T15:49:11.869-07:00</updated><title type='text'>rant</title><content type='html'>Alright so I've got to do this.&lt;br /&gt;Today at Boulevard park I was sitting, having a pleasant time in the sunshine with Maryann and Evan behind me slack-lining merrily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then.&lt;br /&gt;Two beautiful black women walk into the park, and immediately the group of middle-aged white men sitting at a table near me, eating their steak, began saying things like "oooooh, look at that. come over here ladies. damn." and so on. One, I swear to god, was making smoochy faces towards them.&lt;br /&gt;It took every fiber of my body not to go over there and curse them out.&lt;br /&gt;I hardly ever get mad at people, and I hardly curse, but seriously?! Can you be so oblivious? or can you really be such a jerk that you shamelessly propagate sexism and racism all at once?...when that's exactly what so many people are working so hard to eliminate?!??!!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted so badly to go over there. So badly. If they had just been a notch louder with their comments I would have. If I thought it would make a difference if I yelled at them, I would have. &lt;br /&gt;Instead I thought about how these women had no clue they were being objectified and cried about it...which also helps nothing.&lt;br /&gt;But what can you do with that anger?&lt;br /&gt;Nothing productive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I'll remember how they look and every time I see a man who resembles them I'm going to have a hard time not judging them. And I regret that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-1539485383555859859?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/1539485383555859859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=1539485383555859859' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1539485383555859859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1539485383555859859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/07/rant.html' title='rant'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-4810944216965118657</id><published>2009-07-10T10:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T10:43:50.498-07:00</updated><title type='text'>food.</title><content type='html'>I dreamt of helping an old lady down a steep slope and along a muddy path into a muddy cave.&lt;br /&gt;It was strange and very vivid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I've really decided to cook things now. I'm doing it cheaply since I can't seem to find a job, but also making exciting things. Turns out I've got quite a few ingredients in my cabinets I forgot about. :)&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I made a black eyed pea soup with spinach, shallots, sweet onion, garlic, fresh basil, tomato sauce, and paprika. It was surprisingly delicious. I also made my first good loaf of bread.&lt;br /&gt;Today I'm going to make a polenta dish with eggplant and zucchini.&lt;br /&gt;I'm also going to make carrot muffins and possibly biscotti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily I'm planning for a potluck tomorrow night so I won't have to eat it all. Plus I've got a friend whose offered up her stomach for my endeavors.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-4810944216965118657?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/4810944216965118657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=4810944216965118657' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/4810944216965118657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/4810944216965118657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/07/food.html' title='food.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-8389526872695444685</id><published>2009-07-08T10:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T11:19:35.004-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the forecast.</title><content type='html'>Whenever something great happens, soon after something not great happens.&lt;br /&gt;Whenever I feel an overwhelming happiness, soon after I feel an overwhelming sadness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm beginning to think everything in life balances out in the end, so if you experience a concentrated amount of great the equilibrium is off and to correct itself you have to experience the not so great until the balance is back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For instance, I had a great four days--was around awesome people, walked in the sun for hours, had two serendipitous meetings, and saw earth-trembling fireworks--then came back to Bellingham and have been generally unhappy. It's been pouring outside the whole time. I can feel the pressure of the sky on and in my body. It's pushing down on my brain making it hard to think, and weighing down my legs and arms so any activity is difficult. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this is the third day of rain, so if the theory is correct, and the world centers around me and my emotional experience, i predict it should stop raining tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-8389526872695444685?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/8389526872695444685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=8389526872695444685' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8389526872695444685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8389526872695444685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/07/forecast.html' title='the forecast.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-6902526217002153893</id><published>2009-06-29T23:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T23:33:02.864-07:00</updated><title type='text'>poetry night</title><content type='html'>Tonight I went to poetry night. I haven't been in something like eight months and I regret not having gone all that time. It's such a beautiful thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listening to some of the poems felt like listening to prayer.&lt;br /&gt;This poem was read and I liked it so hopefully you do too:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wild Geese by Mary Oliver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You do not have to be good&lt;br /&gt;You do not have to walk on your knees&lt;br /&gt;for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.&lt;br /&gt;You only have to let the soft animal of your body&lt;br /&gt;love what it loves.&lt;br /&gt;Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile the world goes on.&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain&lt;br /&gt;are moving across the landscapes,&lt;br /&gt;over the prairies and the deep trees,&lt;br /&gt;the mountains and the rivers.&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,&lt;br /&gt;are heading home again.&lt;br /&gt;Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,&lt;br /&gt;the world offers itself to your imagination,&lt;br /&gt;calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--&lt;br /&gt;over and over announcing your place&lt;br /&gt;in the family of things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-6902526217002153893?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/6902526217002153893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=6902526217002153893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/6902526217002153893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/6902526217002153893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/06/poetry-night.html' title='poetry night'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-8625563776101835126</id><published>2009-06-24T10:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T10:10:58.428-07:00</updated><title type='text'>it's pouring outside.</title><content type='html'>Bellingham, I represented you so well while in California. I boasted to everyone about how you've been shining the sun brightly on us all, you've kept us warm and happy. I even told California that her weather was shitty compared to yours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...but then I come back and all you give is rain. Hard, constant rain. You betrayed me Bellingham with your flip-flopping summer weather. Make a decision why don't ya?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And last night I had horrible horrible nightmares. Four of them, in a row. I'd wake up after one and realize it wasn't real, feel better, fall back asleep and dream up something else terrible. Wake up and do the same thing. Four times.&lt;br /&gt;I think it's your fault Bellingham. The oppressive rain has washed away my good dreams.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-8625563776101835126?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/8625563776101835126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=8625563776101835126' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8625563776101835126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8625563776101835126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/06/its-pouring-outside.html' title='it&apos;s pouring outside.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-3212828781492934334</id><published>2009-06-23T09:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T09:30:20.861-07:00</updated><title type='text'>sprinkles poem</title><content type='html'>a few nights ago I dreamt I was in a dark room with a large group of people, all sitting on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;everyone was really mellow or bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i got up and stood in the corner, held a cupcake with frosting and sprinkles in my hand, and began to recite a poem.&lt;br /&gt;the poem was me saying the colors of every single sprinkle on the frosting.&lt;br /&gt;i said each color intently, speaking them slowly with a low voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...i thought that was pretty funny when i woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. Alisha's wedding was stellar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-3212828781492934334?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/3212828781492934334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=3212828781492934334' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/3212828781492934334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/3212828781492934334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/06/sprinkles-poem.html' title='sprinkles poem'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-8845700425702094936</id><published>2009-06-17T09:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T10:28:48.930-07:00</updated><title type='text'>california dreaming</title><content type='html'>I totally dreamt about the art department.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was set in the space at Western, but everything was larger. The walls were higher, the rooms were bigger, and the gallery spaces were more complex and attractive.&lt;br /&gt;We were all working on our last projects. I was doing something with wood. A sort of long train-like piece.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went into the department in the evening to work on it. I was happy to be devoting time and energy to the solo effort of this project, and it was almost finished. Everything was bright white and beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked past this one huge gallery space with windows and all, David and Taylor were there working on something together. I walked past, figuring I'd talk to Taylor later. I was with friends and was busy talking about our art projects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later I was in a class with Sharron. She decided she'd take us downtown because she wanted to buy a new bike and she was extremely excited about it.&lt;br /&gt;Her vehicle to get down there was had a hearth in the backseat. We sat around it. There was a stone over the fire that she was heating to do some arty thing. We watched her work, then she left the fire going as we drove downtown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember the bike buying what not, but after that I was at a house. It was dark. I was outside on the dewy cold lawn.&lt;br /&gt;Details are blurry but at one point there was a woman lying on the ground. She came out of the woods. She was like a ghost zombie and I believe I ate part of her.&lt;br /&gt;Then there were other people-an older man, and other people were there.&lt;br /&gt;Pretty much the rest of my dream was terrible, horrifying cannibalism.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-8845700425702094936?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/8845700425702094936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=8845700425702094936' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8845700425702094936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8845700425702094936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/06/california-dreaming.html' title='california dreaming'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-3656497625645977803</id><published>2009-06-09T21:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T21:48:54.693-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a wonderful accident</title><content type='html'>today during our installation critique a fellow student, speaking about the bed in my house, meant to say "break the bed" and instead said "bake the bread."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so perfect.&lt;br /&gt;so funny.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-3656497625645977803?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/3656497625645977803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=3656497625645977803' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/3656497625645977803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/3656497625645977803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/06/wonderful-accident.html' title='a wonderful accident'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-993589996167056109</id><published>2009-06-09T10:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T10:19:02.484-07:00</updated><title type='text'>rock climbing</title><content type='html'>I hate it when I type out a dream, then it won't post and I have to type it again.&lt;br /&gt;It looses all of its charm!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway,&lt;br /&gt;last night I dreamt I was walking on a Wizard of Oz-esque path with my brother Shaun. The bricks were yellow, the setting made entirely of endless hills in every direction, all lit by a blue-green tone. It was surreal. Nobody else was there.&lt;br /&gt;I looked down to the side of the path and noticed there was a valley that also served as a water drain. I decided to explore down there while he continued to walk along the path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The grass down there was thick, and large patches were steeped in moist mud. It was slippery and I had to be careful. I continued walking down there for a long time, until I reached one of those concrete tunnels that allows the water flow to continue through land. I realized, reaching that point, that I was now in a place where the path was at least two stories above me. I'd have to either climb the moist mud or the large tan boulders that now lined the walls of the valley.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to climb the rocks, and it wasn't until I reached the last one that I realized what a predicament I put myself in.&lt;br /&gt;I could fall down, easily. The rock could dislodge from the wall. For all I know this could be a fragile rock that crumbles under weight. (I remember thinking Maryann would know...) I paused at that last rock thinking these things and thinking about how high I was and how I should be terrified, but instead I was relatively calm and accepting of whatever was going to happen.&lt;br /&gt;The prospect of death or pain was okay with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I was fine. I reached over that last rock and held onto a pole on the other side, pulling myself up and over and rejoined Shaun on the path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything was unusually calm in that dream, so calm it was unsettling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later I sat across from Shaun at a restaurant and we bonded over some kind of American food like hamburgers. We talked about when he was younger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like this dream must mean something because the whole rock climbing thing sounds like a metaphor. But what is it a metaphor for? I feel like there are a lot of problems that need surmounting right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-993589996167056109?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/993589996167056109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=993589996167056109' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/993589996167056109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/993589996167056109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/06/rock-climbing.html' title='rock climbing'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-8061624233483646674</id><published>2009-06-06T12:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-06T12:33:10.630-07:00</updated><title type='text'>art show, photos to come.</title><content type='html'>Last night was great.&lt;br /&gt;The art opening went really well. Tons of people came and I got a lot of great comments about my house.&lt;br /&gt;This one man came up to me and told me his lover's mother makes fabric people.&lt;br /&gt;No kidding?! So I made an awesome contact with this man and I'll go look at his mom's art one of these days at his studio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I talked to him for a good time about keeping up inspiration in life. His advice was travel, having a lover that supports your art endeavors and getting rid of the friends that don't support you. It was funny to have him tell me that. Apparently he's had friends who were a real negative influence in his life, so stopping communication with them helped him keep up with his art. He looked only slightly embarrassed to admit that.&lt;br /&gt;I stepped next door to see his paintings and was there for a good time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I went back to our gallery I had a text message, someone was calling me, and the moment I stepped in everyone was like "where were you?! we were trying to find you! someone spilled wine on your house."&lt;br /&gt;oh, man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so I went in the house and there was an enormous red wine stain on my bed. it was sort of my fault for having made a bed of cardboard. It looked solid, so of course somebody was bound to sit on it.&lt;br /&gt;I quickly flipped the sheet so I could cover the stain with the pillow, but there was still stain showing.&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, I had wrapped a wine bottle in fabric so I placed it beside the stain.&lt;br /&gt;Not at all what I wanted. This was supposed to be a throwback to childhood and fantasy. Alcohol doesn't fit in the concept at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyway, oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish family could have been there, because I really feel that fabric installation and what nots is what I'm really into and possibly the direction I'll continue to take. Having the show felt somewhat significant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I'm gonna take thorough photographs of everything in the space though, so it'll be like you (family that is reading this...)were there. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-8061624233483646674?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/8061624233483646674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=8061624233483646674' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8061624233483646674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8061624233483646674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/06/art-show-photos-to-come.html' title='art show, photos to come.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-6453702891490584391</id><published>2009-06-05T10:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T10:39:54.281-07:00</updated><title type='text'>today</title><content type='html'>is gonna be a good day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna:&lt;br /&gt;go to the gym&lt;br /&gt;paint&lt;br /&gt;bake&lt;br /&gt;attend our art opening&lt;br /&gt;and celebrate Maia's birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yeah, i strongly doubt it could become a bad day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so far all the strangers i've encountered seemed particularly happy, so hopefully this is a widespread good day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-6453702891490584391?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/6453702891490584391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=6453702891490584391' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/6453702891490584391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/6453702891490584391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/06/today.html' title='today'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-5372847496614739120</id><published>2009-06-04T08:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T08:31:56.141-07:00</updated><title type='text'>camping?</title><content type='html'>I dreamt there was this guy, who I know, that had a major crush on me.&lt;br /&gt;We were camping and he and his friend came out of the tent, his friend telling me that while he was in there he was compiling a list of all the reasons why he likes me, and all the things that make me awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was more than flattered, walked up to him, stood a few centimeters from his face and kissed him. But when I did I put my arms at his waist and pinched his sides. He screamed in pain!&lt;br /&gt;He jumped back and said something like "I'm a really emotional person. You just touched my scars and I need to think about this. I'm sorry. I just need some time."&lt;br /&gt;He retreated back into his tent, and I left feeling totally bewildered and guilty for hurting him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later we three and a bunch of other people were in a log cabin with large windows. It was dusk and really peaceful. He forgave me and everything was alright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man, my subconscious is really full of herself...thinking boys are hiding out in tents writing about me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-5372847496614739120?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/5372847496614739120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=5372847496614739120' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5372847496614739120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5372847496614739120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/06/camping.html' title='camping?'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-8526961651097348521</id><published>2009-06-03T14:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T14:27:06.102-07:00</updated><title type='text'>wrapping things up.</title><content type='html'>I guess it hasn't really been a week yet, but still...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been working on my installation piece a lot the past few days and it's finally coming together and it's exciting. I want to make more homes of fabric.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hardly at home these days. It feels great. Being home is nice sometimes I guess, but really only for sleeping. And even that is more fun to do at other people's places.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my last painting based on family is almost done. I was so worried about it until today, when something I did with the composition worked and it's coming together too! Such a good feeling.&lt;br /&gt;The canvas is exploding with people.  So far I've got Alisha, Shaun, Madison, Sebrina, and Justin in there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it's just a matter of wrapping up these, the tinman drawing, and the ten page paper.&lt;br /&gt;Then. &lt;br /&gt;Yeah, then, it's all over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll post photos of these things when they're complete.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it's time to head back downtown and sew some more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-8526961651097348521?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/8526961651097348521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=8526961651097348521' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8526961651097348521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8526961651097348521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/06/wrapping-things-up.html' title='wrapping things up.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-617852748988529106</id><published>2009-05-31T11:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T12:20:45.560-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the lion king</title><content type='html'>When I woke up I was singing "I just can't wait to be king" with Simba. I kept tacking on the words, "of the world" at the end though.&lt;br /&gt;The dream was yellow, everything covered in a film of warmth.&lt;br /&gt;And we were all happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-617852748988529106?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/617852748988529106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=617852748988529106' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/617852748988529106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/617852748988529106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/05/lion-king.html' title='the lion king'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-8068803833471480128</id><published>2009-05-30T09:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T10:14:09.157-07:00</updated><title type='text'>blegh.</title><content type='html'>I keep waking up sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night in my dream I was sitting in a living room with my lap top. It was raining heavily outside. I was searching recipes for something chocolatey--french silk pie specifically. I wasn't finding that recipe. Frustrated I continued to search for something that would require a similar amount of steps. Something I could lose myself in as a form of therapy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided all of this sadness is my way of freaking out about life changing. It's like this juggling act with school projects, relationships, and post-graduation plans. And I keep dropping the balls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best solution: stop thinking or feeling. It's time to do schoolwork like a robot.&lt;br /&gt;It's also time to listen to Man in the Mirror.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-8068803833471480128?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/8068803833471480128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=8068803833471480128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8068803833471480128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8068803833471480128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/05/blegh.html' title='blegh.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-591917632142647700</id><published>2009-05-28T07:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T07:52:11.459-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a couple of near memories</title><content type='html'>I know I dreamt of China last night, but I can't remember anything that happened.&lt;br /&gt;The only reason I remember that is because I'm reading this npr article about a controversial book detailing the horrors underlying China's modern day society, horrors that are hidden from and denied by the current generation. Reading the article I could feel I was in China last night. A little weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I know I dreamt of a professor nagging me about sentence structure, being a real jerk about it. I remember defending myself, saying the sentence needed to be broken into two as I had it. Otherwise it was a ridiculous run-on that nobody could ever follow. I remember getting passionately angry at her for not agreeing with me. I felt she was just being contrary for the hell of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-591917632142647700?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/591917632142647700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=591917632142647700' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/591917632142647700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/591917632142647700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/05/couple-of-near-memories.html' title='a couple of near memories'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-4640915002675533766</id><published>2009-05-26T13:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T13:44:32.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'>quotes</title><content type='html'>I'm cleaning and found this quote I meant to share like a month ago:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There are times he closes his eyes and sinks into a great silence. I cannot tell if he is overcome by melancholy, or if this is simply the switch of some internal mechanism. Once the silence envelops him, I can say nothing until he regains his senses. As he slowly reopens his eyes, he looks at me blankly, the fingers of his hands moving vaguely on his lap as if to divine why I exist there before him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"With the sound turned down, I had gotten confused by the sheer discrepancy between the non-sounds and the reality that would have produced them had they been audible...Which is to say, a waterfall ought to have a waterfall's worth of sound."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, Haruki Murakami&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-4640915002675533766?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/4640915002675533766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=4640915002675533766' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/4640915002675533766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/4640915002675533766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/05/quotes.html' title='quotes'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-3235758377488062500</id><published>2009-05-26T12:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T13:00:07.999-07:00</updated><title type='text'>sasquatch</title><content type='html'>Artists I got to see:&lt;br /&gt;Animal collective!&lt;br /&gt;Devotchka&lt;br /&gt;Bon Iver!&lt;br /&gt;Mos Def&lt;br /&gt;Passion Pit&lt;br /&gt;Blind Pilot&lt;br /&gt;Crystal Castles!&lt;br /&gt;Nine Inch Nails!&lt;br /&gt;The Murder City Devils&lt;br /&gt;St. Vincent&lt;br /&gt;Erykah Badu&lt;br /&gt;Santigold!&lt;br /&gt;Gogol Bordello&lt;br /&gt;Fleet Foxes&lt;br /&gt;Deerhoof&lt;br /&gt;Girl Talk!&lt;br /&gt;The Knux&lt;br /&gt;(The ! indicates they were especially awesome.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things that happened:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;walking on the way to the venue I hear "Carissa!" turn around and see Chelsea, a girl I went to school with in fifth grade. she gave me a big hug and it was cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;applaud with thousands as the clouds finally gave us a short break from the intense heat of direct and prolonged sunshine, and accidentally yelling at the top of my lungs, "Yes! The shadows are covering the sun! Thankyou SHADOWS!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;neighboring tent partying as the sun is rising and the bitter bitter sleep deprived anger a few hours later, attempting to wake them up by yelling next to their tent about the loud obnoxious people. i don't think it achieved anything, but it felt great to allow for a bit of vengeance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thrashing and singing along to nine inch nails.&lt;br /&gt;holding up a lighter to the last song by nine inch nails and quickly pulling my hand down, and telling the stranger beside me, "that hurts". he replied, "yeah." we're so hard core...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;watching an enormous guard struggling with a tiny but determined young guy trying to weasel his way from his grip. i was convinced somebody was going to get hurt, and i think everyone else who stepped back a good ten feet did too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;passing along crowd surfers at girl talk.&lt;br /&gt;dancing like upright sardines at girl talk, literally body contact on every side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;looking down to a few people crouched down in the pit beside us, watching them dip their fingers in tiny bags, rubbing powder on their gums. that was new for me--didn't really think i'd ever see someone doing coke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there's more, but that's a good gist of the weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nine inch nails, santigold, girl talk, and crystal castles were the highlights for sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-3235758377488062500?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/3235758377488062500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=3235758377488062500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/3235758377488062500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/3235758377488062500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/05/sasquatch.html' title='sasquatch'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-1746435059763716430</id><published>2009-05-22T09:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T09:50:09.008-07:00</updated><title type='text'>graffiti</title><content type='html'>Waking to sunshine is one of those things that makes life wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;Another thing that makes life wonderful is waking up after 12+ hours of sleep realizing your waaaaay to realistic nightmares are in fact &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;not real&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;And one more thing is the ridiculous song "this is why I'm hot."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my dream.&lt;br /&gt;I was in a daze, confused and feeling lost. I was at the art department, wandering around unsure of what to do with myself.&lt;br /&gt;I had a pallet and paints. There was a black shiny Audi parked in front of the building. I sidled up next to it and began painting on the hood. Painting! On the hood! I didn't think about what I was doing. I painted my initials, and some flowers. As I painted periodically friends would come by and say hi. We'd chat as though everything was normal. We'd talk about how beautiful and warm it was out and how we're all stressed about our school projects---the norm. They'd comment on what I was painting, complimenting my color choice.&lt;br /&gt;After a long time of painting on this car, I began to realize I may not be able to get the paint off later.&lt;br /&gt;I tried rubbing it off with water and it left this thick residue everywhere. And I realized OMS would probably wear through the car's paint too. I had made a huge mess of this person's car and, being a coward, I just left.&lt;br /&gt;The next day I heard professors talking about what happened. The photography professor, a flamboyant gay man, was telling my installation professor how whoever did that, if they were found out, were gonna be outta here immediately. He made a gesture with his thumb over his shoulder: "Outta here!"&lt;br /&gt;I was terrified.&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't believe how freaking stupid I had been.&lt;br /&gt;And all I wanted to do was go back in time and not be a complete imbecile.&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking through what I would say if I were found out. "I didn't realize what I was doing. I was confused."&lt;br /&gt;Plead insanity?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so not cool. I'm pretty sure for hours of sleep I was worrying about how I would fix my predicament. So close to graduating and I would be kicked out, left to fend for myself without even a bachelor's degree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is scary when you go around terrorizing people's fancy belongings. Don't do it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-1746435059763716430?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/1746435059763716430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=1746435059763716430' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1746435059763716430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1746435059763716430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/05/graffiti.html' title='graffiti'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-312783184363113804</id><published>2009-05-21T17:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T17:56:35.719-07:00</updated><title type='text'>artist statement</title><content type='html'>this is an excerpt from my artist statement for installation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The significance of this work to me lies in what I feel is a disparate&lt;br /&gt;gap between childhood and adulthood. So much of our freedom to imagine&lt;br /&gt;is lost in the cracks of life as we become bombarded by practical&lt;br /&gt;responsibilities and the realities of things like hatred and&lt;br /&gt;prejudice. I'd like to help remind people of the happiness imagination&lt;br /&gt;and innocence brings, offer a brief return to childhood fantasies."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;ideally&lt;/span&gt; this is what i want to express in my art. at the least, it's an aim to attempt.&lt;br /&gt;...plus it gives me the freedom of over-saturation and an explicit absence of any form of negativity.&lt;br /&gt;it's exciting because it could be a fun direction to go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-312783184363113804?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/312783184363113804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=312783184363113804' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/312783184363113804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/312783184363113804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/05/artist-statement.html' title='artist statement'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-1302859155917115200</id><published>2009-05-19T13:52:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T13:59:46.587-07:00</updated><title type='text'>woops</title><content type='html'>as I was saying...&lt;br /&gt;the history of babel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was reading this article about the Guggenheim in New York for class and came across the story the word "babble" orginates.&lt;br /&gt;It's embarassingly exciting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the bible after the flood, the survivors travelled to Mount Ararat where they planned to build a tower that would reach Heaven. God thought the people were too full of themselves, so to punish them for hubris he destroyed the commonality of their languages. Babel=Babble. Because they could no longer communicate they gave up, parted ways, and left the tower unfinished.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-1302859155917115200?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/1302859155917115200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=1302859155917115200' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1302859155917115200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1302859155917115200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/05/woops.html' title='woops'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-2363164970227560257</id><published>2009-05-19T13:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T13:52:52.798-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the history of "babble"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-2363164970227560257?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/2363164970227560257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=2363164970227560257' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2363164970227560257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2363164970227560257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/05/history-of-babble.html' title='the history of &quot;babble&quot;'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-2703461914220256207</id><published>2009-05-19T07:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T08:15:32.400-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Again with the babies</title><content type='html'>Last night I had a baby.&lt;br /&gt;I was living in this large home, with an unusually long but ordinary hallway, carpeted, with white walls.&lt;br /&gt;I lived in one of the rooms along this hallway.&lt;br /&gt;I was maybe dating? a boy who I didn't really like. He always wanted to go to my ordinary room, but I always said no. He would come over, and we'd sit on this wrap-around couch in the living room. The room was more like a greenhouse, with windows everywhere. It was beautiful, with constant sunshine and the perfect amount of warmth.&lt;br /&gt;We would lay there chatting, but I really didn't like him. At all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A bunch of people came over one night for a potluck. He was there too. I was seated on the couch, he was lying down beside me. I was thinking about how I didn't care that he was there, and kind of wanted him to leave. He was complaining about something.&lt;br /&gt;Then from across the room my mom was walking towards me holding a baby. Katy from the art dept. squealed, "Oh, Carissa, is that your baby?!"&lt;br /&gt;"Yep it is," I said through an immediate smile.&lt;br /&gt;My mom passed the baby on to me. I cradled her.&lt;br /&gt;I don't even know if the guy stayed. I'm not sure what his place in the dream was. He was so unimportant, but so persistently &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;there&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the baby was white. I mention this because she was sooooo white, like bleach baby or something. She was wrapped in blue and could have only been a couple months old, sleeping, with a very squishy face.&lt;br /&gt;She was adorable and all mine.&lt;br /&gt;I had the distinct feeling she and I had a bond nobody could change, and can easily say she was the most important thing in my life. She made me feel whole, powerful, and at ease. It was a kind of love I've never felt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I think this dream is because I watched the Desperate Housewives Finale last night and there's been this one running plot with the threat of a delusional man killing a young boy--son of one of the Housewives. &lt;br /&gt;In last night's episode she ended up tied to a tree while the delusional man sat in a car waiting for the boy's father to drive up the street. The delusional man had the young boy in the backseat. The moment the car drove up, he drove straight into it, with hopes they would all die in the collision. The woman got out of the ropes tying her to the tree and ran, crying desperately, thinking she had just lost her son. Watching that moment I felt, a lot.&lt;br /&gt;That's a kind of loss I don't know if I could handle, and I don't know how anyone does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, thinking about baby love. That's what did it.&lt;br /&gt;That guy though, no idea.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-2703461914220256207?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/2703461914220256207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=2703461914220256207' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2703461914220256207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2703461914220256207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/05/again-with-babies.html' title='Again with the babies'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-2335924532142393989</id><published>2009-05-18T07:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T07:30:05.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>um.</title><content type='html'>I feel like in the night somebody came and poked my eyelids softly but continuously leaving them swollen and now someone else in my belly is trying to ring me out from the inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dreamt I was helping a girl babysit a couple of young girls. We were in one of their bedrooms and the girl I was babysitting with starting making moves on me. I didn't realize at first how strange it was. I didn't really know her-met her a day ago-and she was female, and younger than me. I finally resisted and pushed her away.&lt;br /&gt;Then I was walking along a dark damp city street scattered with late night loiterers. It was uncomfortable.&lt;br /&gt;Everything in that dream was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe she was me and I'm doing something I shouldn't. I need to learn a lesson and push a certain decision/emotion/goal off and go on a late night walk in the city.&lt;br /&gt;But, what decision?&lt;br /&gt;What if I push off the wrong one?&lt;br /&gt;This is silly.&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to school.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-2335924532142393989?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/2335924532142393989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=2335924532142393989' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2335924532142393989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2335924532142393989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/05/um.html' title='um.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-2879036770805341122</id><published>2009-05-17T10:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T10:30:05.937-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the park.</title><content type='html'>Yesterday at Boulevard was ideal, and being one of Katie and I's last visits there together, it was fittingly so.&lt;br /&gt;We sat on the rocks hidden by a couple trees from the masses of people and sunshine.&lt;br /&gt;...It was so hot we chose to sit in the shade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was recording sound for a school project where she'll be playing the sound while reading something she's written. Turned out while we sat there writing notes to each other to communicate so our words wouldn't disrupt the recording of environment, a weasel (or something like it and equally cute) hopped by, two guys our age drove a monster truck toy along the rocks, the train went by, children screamed from joy, girls belly laughed, the waves quietly crashed, and a peace mob paraded behind us.&lt;br /&gt;See what I mean by ideal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She might be leaving a few days after graduation. Leaving, as in moving away to Massachusetts. When she told me that yesterday it broke my heart a little. I'm going to miss her so badly and I thought we'd have time to hang out this summer before I leave for China.&lt;br /&gt;Since she doesn't read these posts I'm gonna go ahead and admit that I'm hoping she doesn't get that job that plans to steal her from me two months too early.&lt;br /&gt;Actually, no. &lt;br /&gt;That's not fair.&lt;br /&gt;I'm hoping they'll realize they don't want her just yet. &lt;br /&gt;Two months, even one month is all I need to feel prepared for good byes.&lt;br /&gt;Less than that might do permanent damage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also the other night I dreamt a sea creature was getting surgery from the Grey's Anatomy cast. He flailed his appendages in the air, one of them I clearly saw waving all around spewing blood &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;like a hose&lt;/span&gt;. It was quite the mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and in last night's dream I was calculating what schoolwork I'd need to do to be ready for Sasquatch next weekend. I had 20 plus 14 drawing assignments to complete. That's a lot and not true.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-2879036770805341122?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/2879036770805341122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=2879036770805341122' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2879036770805341122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2879036770805341122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/05/park.html' title='the park.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-2912192101499806085</id><published>2009-05-14T11:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T11:04:49.759-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a little strange.</title><content type='html'>last night i had a dream with some extreme views of architecture from below. i was viewing myself precariously standing at the edge of a skyscraper...a skyscraper whose image i just saw in my architecture class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;also, for the last hour and a half i've had constant de ja vu.&lt;br /&gt;and, the heinous headache returned from the other day to hang out in my head again for a while.&lt;br /&gt;luckily it's gone, but the moment it went away i felt an overwhelming sadness.&lt;br /&gt;maybe my brain has become dependent on these headaches and now misses them when they leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the point is, today is starting out weird.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-2912192101499806085?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/2912192101499806085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=2912192101499806085' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2912192101499806085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2912192101499806085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/05/little-strange.html' title='a little strange.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-1881799717494480199</id><published>2009-05-13T09:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T09:48:58.321-07:00</updated><title type='text'>starting soon</title><content type='html'>As of now (or as close to now as possible) i'm going to be better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By be better I mean work even harder on art projects, think harder in art history, write and try to speak more clearly, socialize more, and try to smile and laugh as much as possible.&lt;br /&gt;The reason is, I will be done with Western in less than a month. I don't want to look back in a few weeks and regret having been mopey or stupid. There's not enough time for that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So starting right now, I'm going to buy a ticket to see my high-school buddy graduate in exactly a month.&lt;br /&gt;After that, I'm going to roll up my drawing and prepare to paint, then critique it up.&lt;br /&gt;And tonight I hope there's movie night, because I need to get started on that increased socializing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-1881799717494480199?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/1881799717494480199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=1881799717494480199' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1881799717494480199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1881799717494480199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/05/starting-soon.html' title='starting soon'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-2589233628984837210</id><published>2009-05-08T18:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T19:20:09.713-07:00</updated><title type='text'>dear diary,</title><content type='html'>I feel myself becoming a cynic.&lt;br /&gt;It's a tangible shift in my perspective on life and it's strange to be aware of it and not be working to stop it. Maybe it's a maturing situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel a strong doubt that I will possibly find a person, one person, that I want to spend the potential remainder of life with...someone who wants to do the same with me. That seems far-fetched.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when it comes to art. Yes, it's beautiful and inspirational, and still a definite passion of mine. But, at the same time, so much of the world measures success by how many people know your name and/or how much money is made doing what you do. The same goes for art of course, and I don't want to fall into thinking that way too. I don't want to seek fame and push myself on people to get it.&lt;br /&gt;And to make things worse, when I reflect on the art I make, I never feel it's that good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm probably just depressed because life is changing right now and I'm scared. This, hopefully, is completely irrational.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a huge positive in my life right now, and should overpower the previous thoughts though. Sharron, my favorite professor, a woman I absolutely admire and respect, wrote "I am so glad you're in this class" and other general positive comments about my first 15 paintings this quarter. That felt amazing. She's got a show in Monterey at the same time as Alisha's wedding so, fingers crossed, i'll be able to check it out. That would make my summer.&lt;br /&gt;And I know this will seem strange, but I've got some sort of relationship with people who wear round glasses. She does, as does Xu Bing, vice president of CAFA, another artist I look up to...Maybe when my sight goes I'll wear round glasses too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-2589233628984837210?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/2589233628984837210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=2589233628984837210' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2589233628984837210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2589233628984837210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/05/dear-diary.html' title='dear diary,'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-7767837333082841567</id><published>2009-05-04T20:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T20:05:06.092-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My potential employers</title><content type='html'>My favorite wording on their website:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q: What will I eat?&lt;br /&gt;A: Don't freak out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In addition to the Water Park there are other parks throughout the city.  The most interesting of which is Chong Hong Park which is also know as "Cartoon Street".  It's pathways and entrance are lined with &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;generic cartoon characters&lt;/span&gt; and in the summer there are regular traditional dance performances.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-7767837333082841567?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/7767837333082841567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=7767837333082841567' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/7767837333082841567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/7767837333082841567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-potential-employers.html' title='My potential employers'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-1969443217434832936</id><published>2009-05-04T18:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T18:55:55.555-07:00</updated><title type='text'>dismemberment.</title><content type='html'>Last night I dreamt I accidentally tore off a fellow painter's arm. It left a bloody sinuous socket.&lt;br /&gt;I ran off to find somebody who could schedule him a surgery to sew it back on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took me forever. I was in a huge office building, stopping at many cubicles, speaking with many bored and perturbed office ladies, all of them saying no or being otherwise engaged and unwilling to speak with me.&lt;br /&gt;I was frantic.&lt;br /&gt;I found someone to speak to. As I pleaded her to pencil my friend in for an "emergency medical surgery" she was preoccupied with a pile of papers at her desk. She was scratching notes and numbers while I begged her. A man came into my peripheral who was clearly in agony. He was old and fragile and had a skin disease. The woman, upon seeing him, said that sorry, she couldn't help me because this man was worse off and needed the surgery more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went back to meet Austin in a small dimly lit room with a television and lazy boy. He was seated slumped in the chair with the tv blaring something nonsensical. It was a depressing scene. It felt he had been there for weeks, a sloth in front of the tv.&lt;br /&gt;I sat down beside him to deliver the bad news.&lt;br /&gt;He had bandaged his arm back onto his shoulder and I asked whether it was attached at all under the gauze. He said no.&lt;br /&gt;He seemed to have surrendered to his sad situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty sure I ended up finding him a surgery, but it wasn't any time soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw him today and told him this dream.&lt;br /&gt;He just sort of smiled throughout, so once I finished explaining it I quickly ducked away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-1969443217434832936?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/1969443217434832936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=1969443217434832936' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1969443217434832936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1969443217434832936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/05/dismemberment.html' title='dismemberment.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-2695641537363393637</id><published>2009-05-04T06:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T06:51:56.705-07:00</updated><title type='text'>art is just a dream.</title><content type='html'>Last night I dreamt I was making art for exhibitions. They were student exhibitions but the art was incredible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reflecting on my art, it's like I was a slightly less famous, female version of Matthew Barney. I had the multiple textures thing going, with gelatinous sculpture, and the animals sculpted of something else.&lt;br /&gt;I had one installation with some sort of metallic instruments screwed to off-lime green gelatinous hoses that reached to the ceiling.&lt;br /&gt;The metallic instruments rested on a table, and under the table were two animals facing either direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember the process of getting myself and the art there--baggage, tickets, airplane, anxiety and all. And I remember, walking through the exhibition when it was finally all ready, thinking how profound my piece was and hoping people would spend enough time looking at it to understand.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-2695641537363393637?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/2695641537363393637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=2695641537363393637' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2695641537363393637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2695641537363393637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/05/art-is-just-dream.html' title='art is just a dream.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-5131794490121988062</id><published>2009-05-03T10:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T10:51:35.434-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a list.</title><content type='html'>1. Yesterday I went to the library to pick up some books I had on hold. The lady had an enormous smile on her face. She said, "Everytime I see your name I smile...My name is Clarissa Mannsfield."&lt;br /&gt;Whoa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Yesterday I read in the book Hard-Boiled Wonderland, by Haruki Murakami, a passage that was exactly what I dreamt a few nights ago:&lt;br /&gt;"The woman jiggled a metal fitting in the corner, and presently a portion of the facing wall began to open inward lifting up like the door of the trunk of a compact car. Through the opening it was pitch black, but I could feel a chill, damp air blowing...Stepping into the total blackness wasn't my idea of fun, but I toughened up my nerve and planted one foot inside the gaping hold. I crouched forward to duck head and shoulders through, coaxing my other foot along...I stook there dumbfounded, as if I'd been hit by a blunt object, overcome by the chilling realization of my utter helplessness...I felt for the flashlight switch and sent a welcome beam of light straight out across nowhere."&lt;br /&gt;(Not exactly the same, but eerily so.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. It poured and poured and was windy windy all night long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. The Shins concert from outside the black plastic covered gates. We ended up with better seats under shelter than the people inside, standing in the rain, who paid money...to stand in the rain.&lt;br /&gt;We left early too. The shins are okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. This kind of sickness makes me hear everything weird, so it's like I've been living in a bubble, or inside the television set broadcasting my life. I don't feel like I'm directly interacting with anyone or anything.&lt;br /&gt;But at the same time I'm super sensitive to taste...so I'm living through my tongue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I haven't started any of the many things I need to get done yet. None of them. I've tried printing my article, but it failed. I've tried reading other things, but nothing comes through. I haven't tried painting, that scares me.&lt;br /&gt;But today is the day I will do things, no matter how they turn out, because it is Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I'm not sure what this list is. It was weird things that happened yesterday. Now I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Maia is sitting on my couch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-5131794490121988062?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/5131794490121988062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=5131794490121988062' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5131794490121988062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5131794490121988062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/05/list.html' title='a list.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-5118144412962320645</id><published>2009-05-01T15:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T16:06:26.924-07:00</updated><title type='text'>codeine dreams</title><content type='html'>my dreams involved being in an enormous mall on a secret mission to find something hidden in a dark tunnel behind a vault.&lt;br /&gt;It was scary and strange and dangerous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It ended with me running through the mall as fast as I could, running from a man, presumably my lover but also my enemy.&lt;br /&gt;I ran into a special portion of the mall made of entirely gold jewelry shops, where he bought me earrings to catch and subdue me.&lt;br /&gt;It worked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite scene in the dream was when a man opened the vault on an otherwise innocent white mall wall. He opened it to a dark tunnel that went on forever. At the end of it was our goal, was the thing we (a group of us) intended to get. We needed &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;it&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Maryann held a flashlight to the tunnel and it beamed a line of light all the way to through the tunnel hitting something golden. That was &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;it&lt;/span&gt;, and I remember feeling terror in anticipation of needing to crawl into the deep darkness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up sweating and feeling out of it.&lt;br /&gt;These past few days I've felt the closest to what a crazy person must feel like, and I think the sickness combined with the evening ritual of codeine syrup is likely actually making me crazy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-5118144412962320645?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/5118144412962320645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=5118144412962320645' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5118144412962320645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5118144412962320645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/05/codeine-dreams.html' title='codeine dreams'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-7749820926068505916</id><published>2009-04-28T16:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T16:24:44.298-07:00</updated><title type='text'>phlegm.</title><content type='html'>I've been dreaming, but not posting.&lt;br /&gt;My mind has been on other things, like school, school, school, friends, the sunshine, and now a stupid cough...which has got me realizing just how uncommon a cough is for me.&lt;br /&gt;And how grateful I am for that, because it hurts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to the clinic today on campus. Was there 3 hours, and had to wear a face mask the whole time. The swine flu thing has some justified fears wafting around. It was an interesting experience though being the only one in a waiting room of peers, trying to do my homework and not paying any mind to how unusual I looked with that ginormous mask plastered over my face, only allowing my eyes and hair to be seen.&lt;br /&gt;It was probably unsettling to them. It was just warm and stuffy for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I don't have the flu. They checked, so I'm not going to die.&lt;br /&gt;And now I'm just counting down the hours until I can drink some of this codeine cough medicine they gave me. I've put all of my hopes into this bottle of medicine because no sleep for two nights of coughing has made me near desperate for this magical substance that I assume will knock me out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I've realized how impatient I am with sickness. Maybe it's because I'm young. Or maybe it's just because I'm an impatient person.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;But what I do know is anytime i'm sick I try to tell myself it's in my head, that i'm not actually sick and can go to the gym, can go work on things, can go dance...then realize i'm having these thoughts while half-asleep with a pounding headache and hoarse cough every two minutes, otherwise motionless on the couch. No, Carissa, you cannot go out dancing tonight. &lt;br /&gt;This impatience I'm afraid is going to make for a difficult aging process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, Katy and I are still looking for jobs in China. I applied to a few more the other day and haven't heard anything back yet.&lt;br /&gt;We're aiming for Tianjin or Xiamen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-7749820926068505916?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/7749820926068505916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=7749820926068505916' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/7749820926068505916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/7749820926068505916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/04/phlegm.html' title='phlegm.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-5506324988436731239</id><published>2009-04-21T20:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T20:54:16.451-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Salvador Dali on a game show!</title><content type='html'>http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iXT2E9Ccc8A&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-5506324988436731239?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/5506324988436731239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=5506324988436731239' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5506324988436731239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5506324988436731239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/04/salvador-dali-on-game-show.html' title='Salvador Dali on a game show!'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-3787926024774953611</id><published>2009-04-20T17:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T17:56:53.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'>man,</title><content type='html'>I hate disappointment because it's all my fault, and it just plain sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of it, right now I'm super sad and want out but seem to have got myself stuck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-3787926024774953611?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/3787926024774953611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=3787926024774953611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/3787926024774953611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/3787926024774953611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/04/man.html' title='man,'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-8370965469815342765</id><published>2009-04-19T21:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T21:46:57.942-07:00</updated><title type='text'>tree</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/Sev9XP-feUI/AAAAAAAAAb8/h1x_BOjA61k/s1600-h/huggingtree.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/Sev9XP-feUI/AAAAAAAAAb8/h1x_BOjA61k/s320/huggingtree.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326629560163203394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/Sev9XJhPQxI/AAAAAAAAAb0/dR1KIIHjPsg/s1600-h/huggingtree3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/Sev9XJhPQxI/AAAAAAAAAb0/dR1KIIHjPsg/s320/huggingtree3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326629558429893394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/Sev9Ww3rQxI/AAAAAAAAAbs/ncEXZyBlDsg/s1600-h/huggingtree4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/Sev9Ww3rQxI/AAAAAAAAAbs/ncEXZyBlDsg/s320/huggingtree4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326629551813116690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight Katie helped me clothe the tree.&lt;br /&gt;And that's how it looked about two hours ago.&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-8370965469815342765?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/8370965469815342765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=8370965469815342765' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8370965469815342765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8370965469815342765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/04/tree.html' title='tree'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/Sev9XP-feUI/AAAAAAAAAb8/h1x_BOjA61k/s72-c/huggingtree.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-322732706683842807</id><published>2009-04-19T14:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T14:23:40.415-07:00</updated><title type='text'>art, art, art.</title><content type='html'>I'm almost done sewing the clothes together. Today/tonight I'm gonna try putting it on the tree, fingers crossed I measured well and it'll work out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I've found a place for my sculptures. This e-mail was going around the art department about an art auction raising money for a local middle school. So, I'm gonna contribute the washing machine, freezer, and dreamspace.&lt;br /&gt;I suppose it's not professional since I wouldn't be making any money off of them, but I think it's a good solution.&lt;br /&gt;I'd really like someone to have them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really feeling this fabric thing. It's surprisingly un-crafty even though the materials would be considered so. I just need to stick with it and not flake out so that ideas will progress.&lt;br /&gt;All I'm wondering now is whether once I move to China it'll still seem appropriate. I mean, one of the major reasons I'm doing this is because of the excessive amounts of clothes that go unused here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. I feel like a crazy person right now, really really crazy. I think it's because of the weird sleep schedule I've fallen into.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-322732706683842807?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/322732706683842807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=322732706683842807' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/322732706683842807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/322732706683842807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/04/art-art-art.html' title='art, art, art.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-5507005252664615555</id><published>2009-04-17T10:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-17T10:39:36.487-07:00</updated><title type='text'>catch-up.</title><content type='html'>I haven't posted in a while, but that doesn't mean I haven't blogged.&lt;br /&gt;I just failed to upload them before they became completely irrelevant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I flipped out. Mom, Maia, Rochelle, and Jeremy can attest to that.&lt;br /&gt;But after talking with mom who is much more at ease than me pretty much all of the time, then putting on a Popsicle dress, I calmed down.&lt;br /&gt;Got to see a sweet artist speak about her art.&lt;br /&gt;Then went straight home and began sewing clothes together to fit a local tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alisha called while I was doing that, and of course I had to tell her what I was doing when she asked "what's up" and of course I got a laugh and some sisterly teasing. She suggested not just wrap clothes around a tree, but makes clothes for a tree, with sleeves and all. I thought about that (first I might add ;)) and may do it if this works out. She also suggested adding a belt...I don't know about that Alisha. Tacky!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, talked to her for a good long hour or so. It's so cool when you've got a sibling you can talk to and get along with...one that occasionally made you want to destroy things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later watched some Spaced, a British show. Parents, you'd probably like it. Not sure what was really happening. 4 episodes in and the plot hadn't thickened yet, but it was still entertaining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH MY GOD. I just remembered that last night in my dream Oprah called me. She called me accidentally thinking it was an old friend of hers. She needed help with some issue, and decided I could help her even though I wasn't who she had expected. She came to where I was and Maryann, Vanessa, and I, as we tried not revealing or awe, walked her around town, giving helpful pointers.&lt;br /&gt;She was really short.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-5507005252664615555?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/5507005252664615555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=5507005252664615555' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5507005252664615555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5507005252664615555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/04/catch-up.html' title='catch-up.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-12548795112068258</id><published>2009-04-13T06:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T07:07:04.613-07:00</updated><title type='text'>not so good dreams.</title><content type='html'>I think it's funny that after posting all of that about relationships I had a dream of confessing my love to someone.&lt;br /&gt;Er, actually, now that I think about it, I'm not sure if I ever actually confessed it.  I was about to at least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat with his friend talking and eventually he asked what was going on with he and I. I admitted to my feelings, and the friend was so happy. We sat there for a while, him smiling, me surprised and encouraged that he was smiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;the guy&lt;/span&gt; came over. There was a table with bottles covering it. I was trying to arrange it in a certain way to take a photograph. It was wobbling all over the place. I turned to do something and he had cleared the table, thinking that was helpful. I got slightly annoyed and told him that's in fact the opposite of help, but at the same time felt appreciative of his effort, and didn't really care at all because I loved him too much.&lt;br /&gt;Then we went walking somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;Busy streets with vendors and a public vegetable market.&lt;br /&gt;We stopped at one to buy some noodles. There were cots set up in front of the vendor to lie down in while you ate, so I lied down and waiting for the order. He came and lied down beside me. It felt perfectly comfortable but also not, because I felt I may never be able to say something to him...and if that was true, then I shouldn't anyway. It was a calm but unsettling realization.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later I was in a room with a sort of shallow platform built into the wall twenty feet above the ground. It was attached to a slide.&lt;br /&gt;I climbed up on something to get on it. I navigated with difficulty onto and across the thing, nearly falling the entire time, my legs dangling over the edge.&lt;br /&gt;That was pretty scary and pointless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, right before waking, I had a really disturbing dream. A guy I didn't love, or really even care about at all, got me pregnant. A thousand thoughts ran through my mind, all revolving around anxiety and hatred and guilt. I didn't want a baby yet. It ruined every plan. And not with him! I was sitting on my bed. He was walking back into the room, arrogantly and completely unaware of the situation he put me in, and there was another guy-a man-standing in my room beside me. He was trying to console me. He was level-headed and supportive, but I sat there screaming all of the horrible things this meant.&lt;br /&gt;After a good long whirlwind of terror I finally convinced myself I had been dreaming and it was okay. I could just wake up and everything would be fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm awake and thankfully not pregnant with in illegitimate and unwanted baby, nor troubled by the secret love I can't admit, or dangling from a twenty foot ledge.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-12548795112068258?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/12548795112068258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=12548795112068258' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/12548795112068258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/12548795112068258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/04/not-so-good-dreams.html' title='not so good dreams.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-4582359359768465405</id><published>2009-04-12T17:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T17:59:47.464-07:00</updated><title type='text'>another post.</title><content type='html'>Another project: putting clothes on trees. i'm not sure the way it's going to work yet. i'm thinking of going out and measuring "good" trees and sewing the clothe together at home, then going out and wrapping them and sewing the edges together around the tree at night.&lt;br /&gt;the idea of a sort of secret vandalism is exciting, and i've already got Maia and Jeremy somewhat interested in joining me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thought: i'm reading this book with the word LOVE plastered across it's front in huge bold letters. the reason i'm reading this book, chock-full of cynicism and praise of rational thought over emotion, is to remind myself to think of love soberly. that is difficult.&lt;br /&gt;i tend to love people, sometimes i'm afraid, too easily. i daydream about the things we can do together in the future, the way every detail will happen. i relish in the thought of loving the things about them that go unappreciated.&lt;br /&gt;and recently i've found myself wanting someone to build a tiny fortress of a relationship with. reflecting on it, i'm afraid the reason is to feel more secure with my move to China...maybe i want someone to love that will either a)come on the adventure with me, or b)wait eagerly for my return.&lt;br /&gt;this is a self-centered and foolish reason for wanting a relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another awesome thing that happened: Maia and i are currently at the Swan Cafe. a few hours ago we arrived and were talking about culture shock. she asked where i lived before coming here. i told her Leavenworth for a summer, and then we laughed for a while, joking about how crazy that place is. there was a guy sitting to my left. maia mentioned red necks in small town America. she asked if there were red necks in leavenworth. i said i don't know, if there are they're disguised: red necks in bavarian clothing.&lt;br /&gt;the man took an opportunity to enter our conversation a couple minutes later, and said before leaving, "and by the way, i love that "red necks in bavarian clothes comment, i'm gonna tell my buddy that one!"&lt;br /&gt;nice.&lt;br /&gt;spread the imagery.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-4582359359768465405?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/4582359359768465405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=4582359359768465405' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/4582359359768465405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/4582359359768465405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/04/another-post.html' title='another post.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-5915092623657739707</id><published>2009-04-11T11:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T11:57:18.408-07:00</updated><title type='text'>gotta get thru this</title><content type='html'>Daniel Bedingfield:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b4eMyOzD9UI&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch it, listen to it, wiggle and shimmy to it, and love it.&lt;br /&gt;That's a command.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, back to work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-5915092623657739707?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/5915092623657739707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=5915092623657739707' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5915092623657739707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5915092623657739707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/04/gotta-get-thru-this.html' title='gotta get thru this'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-7658356550200873218</id><published>2009-04-10T18:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T18:46:22.900-07:00</updated><title type='text'>and life goes on, as usual.</title><content type='html'>Last night my dream consisted of a hideous rash on my legs--big bright bumpy red spots covering them both, each bump with a thistle protruding out the middle.&lt;br /&gt;I sat on the floor, resting on a bare wall, legs stretched out in front of me, pulling the thistles out and discarding them to the side.&lt;br /&gt;Disgusting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also was determined to kill a man. I waited for him in a hallway, stumbling around trying to find the proper weapon, finding mostly duds or toy guns. Aware none of them would work, I still stood at the end of the hall with a door slightly ajar in front of me to hide behind, legs bent, prepared to pounce or shoot.&lt;br /&gt;I was really going to kill him.&lt;br /&gt;Disturbing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in real life, last night I watched a portion of Silent Hill...probably the reason for my icky dreams.&lt;br /&gt;Also, went to see a rock/metal band made of mostly friends. They were awesome, and next time I'll do the full-on head banging with my mane like Glenn suggested. That would be incredibly fun, at least for a few minutes.&lt;br /&gt;After that we went to 80s night. I ran into an old "friend." That portion of the evening I could have done without. But we made some new friends so it was fun overall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then today, oh today. I've got this art history reading to wade through. Seriously, wade, like through some gelatinous substance. Jello. No, something more sticky. Maple syrup, the really thick kind, dripped straight from the tree into a jar.&lt;br /&gt;The thing is I literally spent 6 hours reading that article. It's a total of 30 pages and I'm not done yet. 6 hours! That is insane. Have I become a sloth, moving at the speed of,if I may use the same metaphor, maple syrup?&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully not. I'd rather say it's a personally unprecedented determination to try to understand everything in this class. It's a stupid confidence thing I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A stupid confidence thing that I unfortunately really need at the moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-7658356550200873218?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/7658356550200873218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=7658356550200873218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/7658356550200873218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/7658356550200873218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/04/and-life-goes-on-as-usual.html' title='and life goes on, as usual.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-1996458168757397823</id><published>2009-04-08T23:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T23:57:24.119-07:00</updated><title type='text'>goodnight.</title><content type='html'>when i was a child i used to think about monsters before falling asleep, and now i think about moving to china.&lt;br /&gt;i'm not sure which is scarier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on another note, there is more to life than this (as Bjork might sing).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-1996458168757397823?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/1996458168757397823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=1996458168757397823' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1996458168757397823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1996458168757397823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/04/goodnight.html' title='goodnight.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-5924870211646414400</id><published>2009-04-08T19:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T19:21:52.832-07:00</updated><title type='text'>new project.</title><content type='html'>I plan to build a house using the same method as the washing machine, freezer, and dreamspace.&lt;br /&gt;It'll be a small house.&lt;br /&gt;I want to put it in the greenspace in front of the art building, then live in it for a week or longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like it's a safe installation since it's on campus, and being in front of the art building makes it especially so...but still, I'm totally excited about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be collaborating with Maia, and for the nights she doesn't want to sleep with me I'm going to ask other friends to...because i'm sure it'll be a little scary in there at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm as excited about this as the dreamspace, so hopefully it'll come out okay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-5924870211646414400?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/5924870211646414400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=5924870211646414400' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5924870211646414400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5924870211646414400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/04/new-project.html' title='new project.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-5357227778259961422</id><published>2009-04-07T18:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T19:10:10.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I had a moment,</title><content type='html'>this morning, in my Architecture and Museums class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were discussing a quote from an article read for class and she wrote the quote: "Ideology represents the imaginary relationship of individuals to their real conditions of existence."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She offered it up as a sort of explanation to help us think about the term "ideology." I spoke first, giving my convoluted and spastic interpretation of it's meaning.&lt;br /&gt;And it felt fantastic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last quarter I couldn't fully grasp anything we were studying in the same professor's class. And now, in this presumably more difficult course, I'm getting it, and speaking in class. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the moment was, in part feeling giddy and excited about the beginnings of a discussion on existential though, and part a feeling of accomplishment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leaving class today I overheard two guys behind me: "Man, I am not understanding a word in that class dude."&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, me neither."&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to whip around and say "hey! it's okay! that's exactly how i felt every class last quarter...just read the sentences over and over until they make some sense. sometimes i have to read them four times until i understand, but it's totally worth it. you won't feel so out of place and depressed. try it, really."&lt;br /&gt;but reality got the better of me, and I kept walking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-5357227778259961422?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/5357227778259961422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=5357227778259961422' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5357227778259961422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5357227778259961422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-had-moment.html' title='I had a moment,'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-2537426298105471385</id><published>2009-04-07T07:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T08:25:41.836-07:00</updated><title type='text'>floating</title><content type='html'>dream:&lt;br /&gt;last night i was on campus. i was either holding something that floats or i was standing on something that levitates. it was unclear, but either way i was floating around red square holding it/on it. i was just looking around.&lt;br /&gt;i noticed a picnic table with a group of people sitting posed for a picture on it. A young boy looked nearly exactly like Jeremy but younger. I was like, "whoa" in my mind.&lt;br /&gt;Then I saw Jeremy was behind him, so it was his younger brother, and there was an older lady and man, and a girl, so I assumed they were posing for a family photo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I saw this lady wandering towards me with the same facial hair as Jeremy, and his younger brother. I looked to the right and saw a few more people with that same hair drawn onto their faces. I thought, "there must be some facial hair celebration today I didn't know about."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I floated away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I floated over the stairs exiting red square and up the brick path. I realized if I moved my arms in a certain way I could make it go higher. I did that and gradually went up and up. I looked down at the people below, all watching me, stunned at my new skill.&lt;br /&gt;Then I lost control. It kept going higher and higher without me directing it. I held on tight. My grip was getting moist with sweat. I looked around me and I was past the height of the all the buildings and trees, approaching the clouds. I wanted to break it or let myself off but I knew I would fall to a painful death, so instead I held on and went higher and higher until I didn't exist anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, I was in this labyrinth of a home with family. I went to use the bathroom, which had plastic sheet walls. As I left, Chris was there. He was really upset about something, then I saw Jeremy was there too. He was trying to make Chris feel better about some girl problems he was having. They finished their conversation and Jeremy patted him on the back, then he and I walked down the hall to another room where my family was.&lt;br /&gt;The things that happened are mostly still really fuzzy, but I do remember being in a room with Jeremy and my sister. He was lying on a mattress on the floor under blankets, back propped up against the wall. She was seated on a chair with her legs crossed, leaning down towards him. And I was sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed. I was mostly listening and my sister was mostly questioning. She asked him what he planned to do with his life. And the reply was simply, "make web comics." &lt;br /&gt;All the while they were talking I had my hand rested on his foot. (Which is strange because of my general dislike for feet.)&lt;br /&gt;But that contact allowed us to communicate without words. When he answered her question I communicated happiness and support and he responded with calmness and confidence. &lt;br /&gt;My sister at first was doubtful, but then she realized that was silly, and smiled.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-2537426298105471385?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/2537426298105471385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=2537426298105471385' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2537426298105471385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2537426298105471385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/04/floating.html' title='floating'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-7641927600766558459</id><published>2009-04-06T00:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T00:40:20.292-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the semi truck.</title><content type='html'>Today I tried painting the dream I had last night. It was an epic failure.&lt;br /&gt;The dream was kinda cool though...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was with a crowd of people, all of them friends, maybe school mates.&lt;br /&gt;I looked up in the sky to watch the clouds roll by. Everything was relaxed and serene.&lt;br /&gt;As I looked, appreciating the beauty, I saw a semi-truck flying up, exactly in my line of vision. It didn't have wings, but it was flying.&lt;br /&gt;It flew nearly straight up, sped up and continued, then screeched to a halt. Slowly the semi did a flip like a jet might in a airflight show. It became a truck with an extended back, carrying a bunch of large tires. I could see the tires because now the truck was upside down thousands of feet above me.&lt;br /&gt;Then after a moment of being still up there, it plummeted to the ground. All I could see was the stream of color it left behind as it fell.&lt;br /&gt;Watching this incited terror in me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a breathe, I turned to a girl on my right and said "Did you see that?" still shell shocked, speaking timidly.&lt;br /&gt;She hadn't. I explained it to her and she flipped out. At first she was carefree and didn't believe me, then it hit her. I was telling the truth.&lt;br /&gt;This was a disaster and it was serious. I woke up feeling the dread.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only other dream I remember from this weekend was of chewing on an eraser that I bought the day before. I was frustrated as I knawed on it.&lt;br /&gt;The next day, I went to use it, remembered the dream, then coincidentally struggled for a long time with taking the &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;two&lt;/span&gt; plastic wrappings from off it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-7641927600766558459?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/7641927600766558459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=7641927600766558459' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/7641927600766558459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/7641927600766558459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/04/semi-truck.html' title='the semi truck.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-8723380225460035259</id><published>2009-04-02T08:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T08:23:17.382-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i wish i could fly.</title><content type='html'>Dream:&lt;br /&gt;I was outside waiting for a friend to be done with her security guard shift for the day.&lt;br /&gt;I was all dressed up. To enjoy the sunshine, I lied down on a raised curb beside the sidewalk on a small downtown street.&lt;br /&gt;A group of old friends including Chase Bartee, and his brother Jordan, came out of the restaurant beside where I was.&lt;br /&gt;They didn't see me, but I watched them eagerly. I haven't seen either of them since tenth grade.&lt;br /&gt;They came outside, looked up at the restaurant, went back in and I saw them levitate to the second floor.&lt;br /&gt;I went in after them, hoping to join them at their table, but it was impossible.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't have levitation skills like them.&lt;br /&gt;Sadly, I went back outside to lie back down in the sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-8723380225460035259?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/8723380225460035259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=8723380225460035259' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8723380225460035259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8723380225460035259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-wish-i-could-fly.html' title='i wish i could fly.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-1008460157283582018</id><published>2009-04-01T07:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T07:34:58.398-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This happens occasionally, and it's happening right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got something to say, something I'm sure of, but I'm afraid as soon as I speak it, the words will unravel.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-1008460157283582018?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/1008460157283582018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=1008460157283582018' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1008460157283582018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1008460157283582018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/04/this-happens-occasionally-and-its.html' title=''/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-4407437498464459108</id><published>2009-03-31T14:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T14:27:49.394-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a new mantra.</title><content type='html'>this will be the running mantra in my brain until June 13th:&lt;br /&gt;EVERYTHING WILL BE OKAY. EVERYTHING WILL BE OKAY. EVERYTHING WILL BE OKAY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that should help,&lt;br /&gt;hopefully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because right now i'm wavering between a deathly fear of what's to come, and a pleasant recognition that this is it for at least a year.&lt;br /&gt;if the two were put in a boxing ring the first would claim victory 9 out of 10 rounds. you might even say the first would likely open a can of spaghetti on the second's ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...i didn't sleep very much last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;will it really be okay?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-4407437498464459108?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/4407437498464459108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=4407437498464459108' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/4407437498464459108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/4407437498464459108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/new-mantra.html' title='a new mantra.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-4472207275266683896</id><published>2009-03-30T11:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T11:34:14.639-07:00</updated><title type='text'>man pelting tiny metal objects.</title><content type='html'>I was in a mall with a group of friends on some trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to the stairwell after hearing there was a crazy person throwing nails and coins at people from a few flights up.&lt;br /&gt;We descended a few flights and then began to get pelted by the tiny metal objects. One of the guys in the group and I were walking alone together down the stairwell. He took my hand for the first time and we linked fingers. He knew I was scared and the time was right. But still, I joked with him, saying "Isn't this a little intimate?!" (and you know how in dreams everything is extra dramatic...well it felt like we were descending to our doom, so it was even more touching and my joke was even more awkward.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We continued descending, trying to stay close to the walls so we were struck fewer times by things.&lt;br /&gt;I remember specifically seeing a large coin hit the floor and a large nail, then thinking how badly they could've hurt if I hadn't dodged them so well.&lt;br /&gt;After a long pelting, one of the girls and I escaped.&lt;br /&gt;We went out an Emergency Exit and crawled along the mossy rocks of the seashore as far as we could. It was frigid and misty. We went a long ways, then climbed up onto the grass. We continued to crawl frantically. The grass wasn't misty, but completely wet.&lt;br /&gt;I looked back to the stairwell and at the top there was a glass balcony. The crazy person lived there. He came out onto the balcony and pulled out a long gun. He hoisted it onto his shoulder and began focusing the aim on us.&lt;br /&gt;There were couches scattered throughout the field so we hid behind the closest. Trembling in fear, crouched behind the couch together with his aim on us...that's how I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-4472207275266683896?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/4472207275266683896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=4472207275266683896' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/4472207275266683896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/4472207275266683896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/man-pelting-tiny-metal-objects.html' title='man pelting tiny metal objects.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-7443627360712040721</id><published>2009-03-30T01:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T02:07:02.734-07:00</updated><title type='text'>borrrrrrrring.</title><content type='html'>I haven't been sleeping well recently.&lt;br /&gt;Actually, that's a lie. I've been sleeping very well, but as I lay down to bed each night, I wish it were hours earlier and I wasn't falling asleep past 2 am every "evening."&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I decided to try sleeping earlier, but instead I've been flipping and flopping in bed for a couple of hours.&lt;br /&gt;I just watched an ENTIRE episode of Star Trek. Usually they put me to sleep like a lullaby, warm milk, and a good hard knock over the head.&lt;br /&gt;But no, the full thing. And I enjoyed it. ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I'm going to post about my day in hopes that it will bring a needed finale for my brain to relax and let me sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was great.&lt;br /&gt;I woke up to sunshine and soon after Shaun, Leila, and baby came over. We chatted for a bit, then went on a walk with Katie to boulevard park because the freaking sun was out!...eh hem...finally.&lt;br /&gt;And while they were here I realized I'm jealous of baby because she looks good in a double chin.&lt;br /&gt;And I'm bitter towards baby because she won't look me in the eye when I'm trying to tell her a story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, so we walked and that was good fun.&lt;br /&gt;Then we were nearly blown off the boardwalk by the arctic chill winds, but forged on to the park, then back home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got back Shaun and I took the ginormous painting of leila down to the car and found it definitely was too big to fit. So Shaun ended up tying it to the top, which was entertaining, strapped down with a tarp and rope.&lt;br /&gt;They took my pile of art to keep, I threw away the art to throw away, and now my apartment is nearly devoid of any art. It's very different and now I realize how important art is in life.&lt;br /&gt;But I'm glad. It'll make moving so much easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We hung out some more, then they left. I was feeling anxious to get back into the sunshine, so I did. I went on an aimless walk towards downtown, ran into Jon Zeller who is off to China soon. That was a tinge serendipitous because on the way I was thinking I'd stop in at the cafe where he works to see if he's working so I could chat about China with him.&lt;br /&gt;Then went to the co-op for sick people provisions, and as I left ran into Gwen who was about to go meet up with Katie, William, and Mary. We made plans to meet up in 20 so I could go hang out with the bunch too, I saw Maia briefly, then rode with Gwen to Katie's.&lt;br /&gt;It was strange how that aimless walk turned out to be perfectly orchestrated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God this post is dull.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hanging out with them all was fun. We went to Casa, then to Mallards, then to buy balloons which unfortunately were a migraine and a half to blow up.&lt;br /&gt;So instead we played Scategories.&lt;br /&gt;William had to go home to get the game so while Katie, Gwen, and William were gone Mary and I brainstormed a prank to surprise them with.&lt;br /&gt;We decided to set up Katie's tent in the kitchen then get in it.&lt;br /&gt;The tent was wonky and deflated because we didn't have dirt or stakes to support the walls with. We turned off all the lights and got in it. They came home and assumed we had left, turned on the lights, and surprise!...we were in the tent.&lt;br /&gt;It was actually really hilarious. Mary was rolling on the floor laughing.&lt;br /&gt;But you probably had to be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, so we played the game and it was jolly and fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I need to stop typing because this post is boring as is. More is less Carissa. This is more, not less.&lt;br /&gt;But, I'm wide awake and it just turned 2 am.&lt;br /&gt;:(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-7443627360712040721?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/7443627360712040721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=7443627360712040721' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/7443627360712040721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/7443627360712040721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/borrrrrrrring.html' title='borrrrrrrring.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-5607376746499370614</id><published>2009-03-27T10:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T11:04:47.802-07:00</updated><title type='text'>furious subconscious.</title><content type='html'>Last night my dreams were aggressive.&lt;br /&gt;I yelled at David Wall for being a jerk in class. He was speaking, loudly, will the professor was trying to show us all something. The rest of us were quiet and obedient, but he was blabbing away.&lt;br /&gt;So, I yelled across the room, "David! Why don't you just shut up for once and pay some respect. God!"&lt;br /&gt;He succumbed to the power of my voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I was on a plane with a really annoying guy who tagged along with me and my friends. He was complaining like nobody's business, writhing around in his seat uncomfortable, and picking on the Chinese ladies sitting beside him.&lt;br /&gt;I got angry at him too. I told him out for being a self-centered jerk and informed him he needed to be patient like the rest of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I argued with a professor for not being fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read this article yesterday that said when you're angry you shouldn't let it out in cathartic actions like yelling or throwing dishes because it won't solve the problem. It'll make you angry more often...I never yell or throw things. I think my catharsis wreaks it's wrath in my dreams. &lt;br /&gt;Things is, I didn't think I was angry about anything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-5607376746499370614?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/5607376746499370614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=5607376746499370614' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5607376746499370614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5607376746499370614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/furious-subconscious.html' title='furious subconscious.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-4357305025172641636</id><published>2009-03-26T13:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T13:18:06.969-07:00</updated><title type='text'>why is this so hard?</title><content type='html'>i've got piles of art around my apartment right now. lots of them. large piles.&lt;br /&gt;i'm attached to everything. i learned something making each one, and want to keep it around.&lt;br /&gt;i know it sounds stupid but they're a part of me, and&lt;br /&gt;Dagnabit! I don't want to get rid of any of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, it's so necessary if i want to ever leave this place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there's a heap in front of me i'm going to throw away today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm taking pictures of everything first for documentation, but it feels more like photographing a piece of me as i shove it in a coffin and stuff it in the ground. forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i seriously am on the verge of tears right now. maybe i should take a break that isn't just posting on a blog, only exacerbating my overly emotional reaction to this purge...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-4357305025172641636?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/4357305025172641636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=4357305025172641636' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/4357305025172641636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/4357305025172641636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/why-is-this-so-hard.html' title='why is this so hard?'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-3219953416577990644</id><published>2009-03-25T17:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T17:36:57.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'>30 days</title><content type='html'>I feel depressed.&lt;br /&gt;The show I just watched was terribly sad, a 30 days episode about jail. It made me think about how completely useless many of the jails are, and how society has failed so many people, and plain wishing drugs just didn't exist.&lt;br /&gt;It's incredible that somebody could spend 15 to 50 in and out of jail.&lt;br /&gt;And that somebody could be grateful to be in jail so they can finally get off heroine.&lt;br /&gt;And that there really isn't any help for many people either while they're in jail or the day they step out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid this show has put me in a bad mood, wanting to shake my fist at "the man" because I don't have a solution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yuck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-3219953416577990644?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/3219953416577990644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=3219953416577990644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/3219953416577990644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/3219953416577990644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/30-days.html' title='30 days'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-2213272026868820945</id><published>2009-03-24T23:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T23:13:21.724-07:00</updated><title type='text'>dreaming Katie's life now.</title><content type='html'>I had this dream last night that I'm unwilling to post,&lt;br /&gt;but, this is insane:&lt;br /&gt;I told Katie the dream this evening and she told me an aspect of my dream was her reality recently.&lt;br /&gt;Whaaaaaaat?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are so on the same wavelength. Always.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-2213272026868820945?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/2213272026868820945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=2213272026868820945' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2213272026868820945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2213272026868820945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/dreaming-katies-life-now.html' title='dreaming Katie&apos;s life now.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-1429074475415419226</id><published>2009-03-23T23:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T23:52:41.733-07:00</updated><title type='text'>bwahahahaha!</title><content type='html'>I feel like an ENORMOUS dork lying in bed in the dark cracking up.&lt;br /&gt;I'm here doing internet things, and I tried changing my status on facebook to "Carissa Mann may be moving to the city which is, most importantly, the world's largest sunglasses manufacturer."&lt;br /&gt;That is normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is not normal, and is HILARIOUS, is that I accidentally posted it on a friend's wall, a friend I hardly know.&lt;br /&gt;So, essentially it's as though, out of the blue, I said to him, "may be moving to the city which is, most importantly, the world's largest sunglasses manufacturer."&lt;br /&gt;As though he knew what the hell I was talking about!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep imagining myself saying this out loud to him. Random. Weird. and way too funny to keep to myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-1429074475415419226?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/1429074475415419226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=1429074475415419226' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1429074475415419226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1429074475415419226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/bwahahahaha.html' title='bwahahahaha!'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-3049397187937937391</id><published>2009-03-23T19:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T19:27:56.748-07:00</updated><title type='text'>beautiful.</title><content type='html'>Today I woke up and joined Leila and Marzieh in the living room.&lt;br /&gt;Leila and I spoke for hours about all sorts of things while Marzieh slept on her chest, occasionally jiggling and grunting. Then we went on a walk in the mild Seattle mist.&lt;br /&gt;It was a pretty awesome day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And after Shaun got home from work they spoke about plans to move to Denver. I went on another walk with an inch think ipod of theirs in tow, and after the mist became heavier walked back. The topic of moving was still in the air went I got back.&lt;br /&gt;Leaving Washington. That means none of us will be living in this state any longer...at least once I move this summer. That's crazy, and I suppose the beginning of a new era for the Mann family.&lt;br /&gt;Related to Denver, they spoke about the possibility of getting a dog.&lt;br /&gt;Which made me think about the husky I so desperately want to have one day.&lt;br /&gt;I mean seriously, how could you resist these eyes? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/SchD1v0LbsI/AAAAAAAAAbk/Ifp_14EZ7Ho/s1600-h/Siberian_Husky_heterchromia_edit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 146px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/SchD1v0LbsI/AAAAAAAAAbk/Ifp_14EZ7Ho/s320/Siberian_Husky_heterchromia_edit.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316573950758317762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-3049397187937937391?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/3049397187937937391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=3049397187937937391' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/3049397187937937391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/3049397187937937391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/beautiful.html' title='beautiful.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/SchD1v0LbsI/AAAAAAAAAbk/Ifp_14EZ7Ho/s72-c/Siberian_Husky_heterchromia_edit.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-518518805609527309</id><published>2009-03-22T13:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T13:12:04.143-07:00</updated><title type='text'>babies.</title><content type='html'>I got to Seattle yesterday afternoon, and hung out with Justin, Shaun, Leila, and baby Marzieh.&lt;br /&gt;So far I've learned babies are calmed by black and white images, they look cute in layers of color and pattern with an emphasis on the leggings and gigantic cheeks, Marzieh's first word will most likely be "irrelevant" or something equally fluent, how to bathe a baby without drowning it or causing infection, and that carl sagan can help you sleep after being woken by the crying of the aforementioned cute baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd say that's a lot for less than 24 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I'm taking a few minutes to be by myself while the socializing continues in the living room with Alex and Amelia who are also going to be raising a baby soon.&lt;br /&gt;It's a little weird being around people not &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; much older than peers raising the next generation. And though I know it's years away, I can feel now that it's something I certainly want to do too and am absolutely not dreading it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-518518805609527309?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/518518805609527309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=518518805609527309' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/518518805609527309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/518518805609527309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/babies.html' title='babies.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-8424758616255588256</id><published>2009-03-20T09:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T09:58:14.707-07:00</updated><title type='text'>this is weird.</title><content type='html'>but I am copying and pasting from my mother's e-mails onto this blog.&lt;br /&gt;I want them to be documented here for safe keeping so I can come back to see them later.&lt;br /&gt;Plus, I wanted you guys to see this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Jose's wife Georgette commented on our tea set a while ago and was hoping we could find her one from china. Well, she and Jose came by a couple of weeks ago to see if we could provide any work for Jose because he needed to desperately send money to family in Mexico - his nephew has disappeared and his wife is left with a small baby and trying to find out if he's been killed or taken as a soldier - it's really scary and out of control there right now. Anyway, she asked if we had had any luck finding a tea set. So, we went online and bought one for her, and didn't exactly lie, but when we gave it to her we said that our son was in the country on a business trip from china so that she wouldn't think we had just bought it for her. When we gave it to her, and told her she didn't owe us anything, that it was a gift, she said "You don't understand, you have fulfilled a childhood dream of mine!" which I sort of thought she was just being nice, then today she called and said "When I was growing up we were extremely poor and I would look in magazines and see these beautiful china dolls and would dream about someday having a real chinese tea set, and now you guys have made that dream come true, you can't imagine how much that means to me." and then she went on to tell me about the table she has it sitting on and how proud of it she is, it's just all been too much. And it has nothing to do with money, cause she has worked 20 plus years as a teacher, she could easily have spent $30 to buy a tea set.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;anyway, that's our tea set story, it makes me realize how much we have in life to be thankful for"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"'bought myself some pants with holes in the crotch.' - really???????&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I hope this is a typo!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-8424758616255588256?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/8424758616255588256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=8424758616255588256' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8424758616255588256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8424758616255588256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/this-is-weird.html' title='this is weird.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-7741144595893849877</id><published>2009-03-19T08:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T09:04:35.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm almost done!</title><content type='html'>This quarter was tough, next is going to be tougher, and this break is absolutely necessary.&lt;br /&gt;Which makes me absolutely grateful for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to begin celebrating before the last final, I hung out with two verrrry cool people in my life last night. Continuing with the celebration, I am waking up to Boys II Men and Kanye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Mom, they've got fabric tea sets (and fabric tool sets) for kids...but I may do it anyways, because it's still a fantastic idea.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-7741144595893849877?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/7741144595893849877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=7741144595893849877' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/7741144595893849877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/7741144595893849877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-almost-done.html' title='I&apos;m almost done!'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-3469947857935958307</id><published>2009-03-18T10:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T10:59:56.798-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ghanaian girl</title><content type='html'>I dreamt I was on the coast with my family, a dog, and some extra people. All adults.&lt;br /&gt;We were sitting on this structure made of many layers of docks, some creaky and small, some entire platforms. Shaun had a very long fragile stick that he loved. He set it down for a moment and somebody picked it up and accidentally snapped it.&lt;br /&gt;They left it there for him to find, too ashamed to admit their fault.&lt;br /&gt;Shaun found it and was annoyed. He searched around trying to find the culprit, while I watched, knowing who had done it. I felt guilty, but also powerless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later I was living in a wooden cabin. There was a communal living space. It must have been a college setting because we were learning things and making things. There was a white room that I entered with a huge fabric sculpture in it. It was a project I was working on. I leaned into it, and looked down. I was meant to figure out how to sew it a specific way to follow the guidelines of the project. David Wall came over and looked. He gave me some advice and then left. I was grateful and began doing more work on it. I was scraping fur off of the fabric with a razor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then an African girl came in the white room where I was working. She was wearing a head wrap, long sleeve shirt, and a skirt that reached her feet. Her skin was almost black. We began talking and she expressed a concern that she wasn't happy being there. We spoke about her reasons, and finally she admitted to really hating Bellingham and everything about it. I suggested she move to Seattle because, I assumed Ghana, where she was from, must have been "more of a hustle bustle city like Seattle is" compared to here. She said "actually no, I lived in a village." "Oh. Well, still, you would probably like Seattle better." Then I advised she look into transfering because that wouldn't be too complicated and she wouldn't need to spend a bunch of money moving far away, or applying, and she wouldn't have to suffer staying here any longer.&lt;br /&gt;She appreciated the advise. While we spoke we exited onto the porch. She told me it was newly added to the cabin. She explained that was why the mother and two kids looking at us timidly through the window pane to our side weren't coming out onto the porch. They were nervous of it, and didn't trust it.&lt;br /&gt;I thought that was very odd, and primitive, then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-3469947857935958307?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/3469947857935958307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=3469947857935958307' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/3469947857935958307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/3469947857935958307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/ghanaian-girl.html' title='Ghanaian girl'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-2435252564654813444</id><published>2009-03-17T19:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T19:35:50.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'>continued.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/ScBdLbD3SbI/AAAAAAAAAbc/_hEEd42Azfs/s1600-h/refreezerator2-carissamann-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/ScBdLbD3SbI/AAAAAAAAAbc/_hEEd42Azfs/s320/refreezerator2-carissamann-1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314350011121093042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/ScBdLPKDYEI/AAAAAAAAAbU/C1d9hPAmZkE/s1600-h/refreezerator_carissamann.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/ScBdLPKDYEI/AAAAAAAAAbU/C1d9hPAmZkE/s320/refreezerator_carissamann.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314350007925825602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So these are what I've done for my sculpture class (excluding the bottles which were for experimental drawing, and including the dreamspace from before).&lt;br /&gt;I'm most excited about this freezer.&lt;br /&gt;And am planning to continue with soft sculpture made of used clothing next quarter in installation. I may play with the idea of creating entire settings using these materials (without the wooden frames). Settings like people seated a table with coffee, that sort of thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If there's anything you would like to see re-created in fabric let me know, and I might try. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-2435252564654813444?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/2435252564654813444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=2435252564654813444' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2435252564654813444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2435252564654813444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/continued.html' title='continued.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/ScBdLbD3SbI/AAAAAAAAAbc/_hEEd42Azfs/s72-c/refreezerator2-carissamann-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-4160779574904021804</id><published>2009-03-17T19:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T19:30:01.933-07:00</updated><title type='text'>this quarter's art</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/ScBa0c7yOFI/AAAAAAAAAbM/fAMaztj4Qy8/s1600-h/carissamann-refreezerator.jpg.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/ScBa0c7yOFI/AAAAAAAAAbM/fAMaztj4Qy8/s320/carissamann-refreezerator.jpg.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314347417463830610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/ScBazoLqp1I/AAAAAAAAAbE/M_FrFZwX86k/s1600-h/carissamann-washyourwashingmachine3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/ScBazoLqp1I/AAAAAAAAAbE/M_FrFZwX86k/s320/carissamann-washyourwashingmachine3.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314347403303364434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/ScBazervNQI/AAAAAAAAAa8/oDQR3A2Ggmo/s1600-h/carissamann-washyourwashingmachine.jpg.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/ScBazervNQI/AAAAAAAAAa8/oDQR3A2Ggmo/s320/carissamann-washyourwashingmachine.jpg.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314347400753526018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/ScBazEXMkXI/AAAAAAAAAa0/I0FP3PxFcek/s1600-h/carissamann-sew,bottles.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/ScBazEXMkXI/AAAAAAAAAa0/I0FP3PxFcek/s320/carissamann-sew,bottles.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314347393688047986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-4160779574904021804?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/4160779574904021804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=4160779574904021804' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/4160779574904021804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/4160779574904021804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/this-quarters-art.html' title='this quarter&apos;s art'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/ScBa0c7yOFI/AAAAAAAAAbM/fAMaztj4Qy8/s72-c/carissamann-refreezerator.jpg.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-1813187323941303869</id><published>2009-03-17T12:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T12:16:24.839-07:00</updated><title type='text'>China!</title><content type='html'>I'm totally actually going to move there. For serious.&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to live with Katy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I don't know what city.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I need to keep realistic about this. I need to remember it takes time to settle in, it takes time to learn Chinese, it takes time to feel comfortable teaching English. &lt;br /&gt;And I probably will be apart from an art world for a while. Remember that, Carissa, remember that...you can get back to it. You can visit Beijing, you can work on things on your own. It will work out. And it will be a fantastic adventure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, I'm kind of excited about this. And kind of absolutely terrified.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-1813187323941303869?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/1813187323941303869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=1813187323941303869' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1813187323941303869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1813187323941303869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/china.html' title='China!'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-5936091509243136977</id><published>2009-03-16T09:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T10:04:06.619-07:00</updated><title type='text'>just dreamin'</title><content type='html'>I dreamt I had to play a part, in a huge play, but the full character of the my role hadn't been revealed to me yet.&lt;br /&gt;I was in a room with ladies who were setting me up with a disgusting man. The man was clearly unworthy of my character so I treated him as such.&lt;br /&gt;Then another, rambunctious man walked into the same little room--which was now a bathroom. As he walked in I was putting on more layers of makeup. Powder was flying through the air and I tried ignoring his presence by looking into the mirror at my eyes, putting eye shadow on.&lt;br /&gt;He was very assertive, and male chauvinist, but he was charming. He sat down in a swivel chair and pulled me down to sit on his lap. I was wearing a Victorian style dress with frills and layers. We fit perfectly seated together. It was extremely comfortable.&lt;br /&gt;He swiveled us around the room, pointing at paintings that he'd done which portray the superiority of the male gender. (He was an actor from the Upfront that I recognized. I remember thinking I wanted to tell him after our skit how much I enjoyed his show a couple months ago.) I felt my character should be angry at him for his pompousness, but I didn't know any of my lines so I mostly stayed silent and let him go on and on.&lt;br /&gt;He tried feeding me one of my lines but I didn't know it at all. It felt terrible not knowing anything while he was streaming off paragraphs.&lt;br /&gt;So I continued to sit there with him, and he began pointing out how terrible a few paintings done by women were, and how they were devoid of the masculinity that makes it powerful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At another point I had to walk to an appointment. It was a long ways away from town, but I spoke with my parents over the phone and they said they would pick me up. So I went ahead. It was night by the time the meeting was done. I had to go to the gym they referred me too. As I walked from the office to the gym I realized it was already 11 pm, and my parents wouldn't be able to pick me up. But it was pitch black outside and there were hardly any street lamps. I was scared walking down the sidewalks but did it anyways. I arrived at the gym and there was a group of men loitering outside smoking cigarettes around a small raised garden box. They were all intimidating.&lt;br /&gt;I called my parents and dad answered. I woke him up and he said "No Carissa! Of course we can't pick you up out there. That's too far. That would take us at least an hour!" then he hung up.&lt;br /&gt;I clearly was upset, and unsure of how I would get home. I couldn't walk the whole way back. I wanted to call back and say that instead I'll sleep on the steps outside the gym and how I'm sure they'd love to know their daughter is on the streets like a homeless person, but I didn't.&lt;br /&gt;The men began to harass me. Not physically, but with their words. They were making seriously crude remarks about an abstract woman, but then they would look my direction and smirk. It was horrible. I stood there letting them do that for a while,&lt;br /&gt;then it was the next day,&lt;br /&gt;and my parents along with hundreds of people came to the gym.&lt;br /&gt;We were told to line up single file around a vast swimming pool and do certain stretches.&lt;br /&gt;We all were getting bored, so all of a sudden a middle-age woman, wearing a baby yellow full body bathing suit, across the pool from me began to belt out a song. She was not a good singer, but she was bored enough not to care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-5936091509243136977?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/5936091509243136977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=5936091509243136977' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5936091509243136977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5936091509243136977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/just-dreamin.html' title='just dreamin&apos;'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-5372458120634881858</id><published>2009-03-14T17:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T18:08:52.557-07:00</updated><title type='text'>askfsnflsdf</title><content type='html'>This is pretty personal, and may seem inconsequential, but along with everything else in my life, I am posting this thought:&lt;br /&gt;I am so happy to genuinely say I am friends with someone I used to date. I didn't think I would every be in this place. I always assumed it couldn't work, and others advised me of how terrible it would be, but no. It works. He's my friend, and that's all. And it's awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I need to note how great it was to work in the sculpture studio for eight hours yesterday afternoon&gt;evening with Maia, and later Glenn and Matt.&lt;br /&gt;Art finals can be really sweet when sewing fake food with friends around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dreams were really choppy and insubstantial because of that damn Monster drink I had when we were working in the studio, so I don't have anything to add in that respect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's all for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-5372458120634881858?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/5372458120634881858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=5372458120634881858' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5372458120634881858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5372458120634881858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/askfsnflsdf.html' title='askfsnflsdf'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-9090113551129013189</id><published>2009-03-13T12:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T12:32:30.031-07:00</updated><title type='text'>to justify listening to Scream.</title><content type='html'>This shouldn't get to me as much as it is, but I don't feel trusted by me real-estate company. Should I need to feel trust from a corporation to be happy? Probably not.&lt;br /&gt;But I do need it, I need it from everyone, and I've heard corporations are considered humans under the law, so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why Landmark won't you trust my judgment? Why won't you listen to me and agree I don't owe you any more money than I've already paid? I don't owe you 200 dollars! I swear it! And more importantly, why don't we talk anymore?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything was dandy this morning, I felt so free and happy, walking through the sunshine with a promising day ahead, sending in an art application with hopes of being accepted, then Landmark. Landmark ruined it all, and all I want to do is scream out my frustration.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'll just listen to this song instead. It will surely make it all better:&lt;br /&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vNl2Pm9-7Vk&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-9090113551129013189?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/9090113551129013189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=9090113551129013189' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/9090113551129013189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/9090113551129013189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/to-justify-listening-to-scream.html' title='to justify listening to Scream.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-4816936564429791968</id><published>2009-03-10T21:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T21:52:12.441-07:00</updated><title type='text'>tonight, tonight (referencing Smashing Pumpkins, incase that wasn't clear.)</title><content type='html'>Today must be the full moon,&lt;br /&gt;because I went to Wal-Mart, and the perfect place for out of the ordinary is on the night of a full moon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was maybe the third time I've been into a Wal-Mart, first time in Bellingham.&lt;br /&gt;And I realized it is the only place here I haven't felt a part of an overwhelmingly racially homogeneous town. There were hispanic and Chinese people there. Seeing them first made me happy, you know, to see people that weren't exactly like me, then it made me angry and sad and self-conscious because all i could think of was the economic divide that breaks up this town racially. Scratch that: breaks up this &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;country&lt;/span&gt; racially.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a far less serious and depressing note, after we--Rochelle and I--were done shopping as we drove home I exasperated, "we should drive somewhere, just keep driving to...somewhere."&lt;br /&gt;"Okay!" Rochelle responded quickly and eagerly.&lt;br /&gt;"But I mean like another state." I said skeptical her eagerness would follow.&lt;br /&gt;"Let's go to Oregon!" she replied clearly actually into the idea.&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"or we could drive Chuckanut!" she continued, offering a more realistic destination.&lt;br /&gt;"Okay."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we drove off into the night, didn't find Chuckanut Drive, but found some other road. We drove and drove, listening to Classical music. I watched the moon and recorded the sound of us on our miniature road trip on my new Wal-Mart voice recorder. It was art.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-4816936564429791968?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/4816936564429791968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=4816936564429791968' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/4816936564429791968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/4816936564429791968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/tonight-tonight-referencing-smashing.html' title='tonight, tonight (referencing Smashing Pumpkins, incase that wasn&apos;t clear.)'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-5420708118947753730</id><published>2009-03-09T20:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T20:47:47.574-07:00</updated><title type='text'>it's a record!</title><content type='html'>FOUR posts in ONE day...&lt;br /&gt;that's a little much. I agree, but I have to post a link to this video that Evan made. He used a rinky dink very old camera that only records at 20 second intervals.&lt;br /&gt;(I'm in it too! for like a split second.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check it out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.facebook.com/ext/share.php?sid=69165476784&amp;h=I04Q9&amp;u=VV3nr&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-5420708118947753730?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/5420708118947753730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=5420708118947753730' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5420708118947753730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5420708118947753730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/its-record.html' title='it&apos;s a record!'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-6622156950877522632</id><published>2009-03-09T17:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T17:58:28.121-07:00</updated><title type='text'>these things are cool:</title><content type='html'>1. Rainn Wilson talking with Oprah about God and religion:&lt;br /&gt;http://www.oprah.com/article/spirit/inspiration/pkgoprahssoulserieswebcast/20090309_oradio_oss_rwilson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Glenn, wearing a plaid shirt, leaning out of a moving vehicle pointing at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. The fact that I didn't die after getting on stage this morning for the monologue. (I stood there, looked out at the lights and all that came out was "shit" in replacement for my forgotten first line.&lt;br /&gt;But after a moment, I remembered, and from remembering on it went really well. It actually felt fantastic once I started. I almost want to audition for a spring quarter play...maybe? maybe...&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;maybe&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. That this is my third post today. I love this bloggin' thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-6622156950877522632?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/6622156950877522632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=6622156950877522632' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/6622156950877522632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/6622156950877522632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/these-things-are-cool.html' title='these things are cool:'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-880636825261921026</id><published>2009-03-09T07:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T07:23:31.356-07:00</updated><title type='text'>wait a second...!</title><content type='html'>"Is that SNOW outside my window????!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, indeed it is."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-880636825261921026?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/880636825261921026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=880636825261921026' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/880636825261921026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/880636825261921026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/wait-second.html' title='wait a second...!'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-6145604403774460424</id><published>2009-03-09T07:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T07:22:04.209-07:00</updated><title type='text'>maybe i should rename the blog "my dreams: often boring, sometimes not."</title><content type='html'>Justin (my oldest brother) and I had to swim together across a lake 6 times before we could eat at this group luncheon event.&lt;br /&gt;He rode on my back for one of the laps and it was surprisingly easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A group of friends were organizing old clothes. An enormous heap of old clothes which were resting in a living room sized crate. I stood watching for a while, but then Moe suggested I make another clothes sculpture, so I got in and began shoving piles of clothes to the side to build the walls of the structure.&lt;br /&gt;A young Chinese boy and girl were playing around the crate while I was working and, trying to focus, their play was annoying me.&lt;br /&gt;I told them to please be quiet and they wouldn't listen.&lt;br /&gt;I took the boy aside, held his arm, and put my face down to his. I said "you really need to calm down, boy."&lt;br /&gt;"But you're doing it wrong! I don't want you to do it that way anymore! I want you to do it differently. Don't build those triangles like you did on my last one! That's boring!"&lt;br /&gt;"Okay." Fair enough, I thought.&lt;br /&gt;Apparently the last clothing sculpture I made was for him, and he thought I was making this one for him too. Selfish boy.&lt;br /&gt;Little did he know, I was actually making it for his &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; twin sister&lt;/span&gt; who, of course, he had an ongoing rivalry with.&lt;br /&gt;I continued to build, then my alarm went off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the ten more minutes I opted to sleep I waded through a space filled with blown up colored balloons.&lt;br /&gt;And now I'm realizing how freaking sweet that would be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. today i've got to perform a monologue and i'm nervous about it. i've tried the lying to myself bit, but that hasn't worked. I actually am nervous.&lt;br /&gt;it's my first monologue.&lt;br /&gt;thank goodness it's for my first class.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-6145604403774460424?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/6145604403774460424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=6145604403774460424' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/6145604403774460424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/6145604403774460424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/maybe-i-should-rename-blog-my-dreams.html' title='maybe i should rename the blog &quot;my dreams: often boring, sometimes not.&quot;'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-2899032381026568727</id><published>2009-03-08T09:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T10:07:30.171-07:00</updated><title type='text'>sleep laughter</title><content type='html'>I was sitting at a restaurant with Brice, Vanessa, and some other people. Vanessa was telling a story and I was looking at her. She was sitting on my left. It was about some family member that may be at the music show we were going to after dinner. The story was essentially that whenever they see each other her aunt laughs hysterically and in a peculiar manner...so then Vanessa imitates her laugh. It's pretty much just a loud and repetitive laugh. I think it's the funniest thing on Earth and laugh along with her.&lt;br /&gt;Then I try to imitate the laugh myself and it comes out sounding like the sputtering of a bad exhaust pipe. Vanessa gives me a really-Carissa?-that-was-terrible look and I crack up!&lt;br /&gt;Out. Loud.&lt;br /&gt;I wake up from my own laughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later I was visiting Sebrina, Justin, and Madison in their new apartment. It was at the top of a very steep hill made of apartments. They lived in a basement with a view of the ocean. Madison was really good at climbing down stairs. One instant she'd be next to you, the next, at the bottom of a long flight of stairs looking up with glee and pride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also I was walking with two people on a dark sidewalk. There was somebody following us. Occasionally they would beam a bright flashlight on our backs, and continue following us. I turned around and gripped arms, allowing them to carry me so I could look straight at the person while they beamed their light. I thought it may intimidate them away. But it didn't. They followed us for a really long time, and eventually I suggested we go faster because it felt they were catching up with us. And I noted, they look stubby, so I'm sure they can't move fast. &lt;br /&gt;We began to run.&lt;br /&gt;We ran for a long time,&lt;br /&gt;I was following the woman in the group who was a superhero of sorts.&lt;br /&gt;Following her, we had to run horizontally across a brick wall, and jump into a two inch wide slot in such a way our bodies would fit through.&lt;br /&gt;It was terrifying and exhausting, but we eventually lost the person,&lt;br /&gt;or at least,&lt;br /&gt;I woke up before they found us...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-2899032381026568727?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/2899032381026568727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=2899032381026568727' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2899032381026568727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2899032381026568727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/sleep-laughter.html' title='sleep laughter'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-8120725799593262657</id><published>2009-03-07T18:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T19:00:35.956-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Today in Fairhaven,</title><content type='html'>a young girl asked me if I had a baby.&lt;br /&gt;It was weird.&lt;br /&gt;I felt like I should, and almost lied to her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-8120725799593262657?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/8120725799593262657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=8120725799593262657' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8120725799593262657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8120725799593262657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/today-in-fairhaven.html' title='Today in Fairhaven,'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-6524752966851717705</id><published>2009-03-06T11:10:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T11:14:21.855-08:00</updated><title type='text'>sometimes dreams crack me up.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/SbF14SsSscI/AAAAAAAAAak/C8w6bDatE_c/s1600-h/sleeping-beauty-castle-at-disneyland.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/SbF14SsSscI/AAAAAAAAAak/C8w6bDatE_c/s320/sleeping-beauty-castle-at-disneyland.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310155045597262274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dreamt of receiving a frantic e-mail from Taylor pleading me to help him escape Disneyland.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-6524752966851717705?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/6524752966851717705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=6524752966851717705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/6524752966851717705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/6524752966851717705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/sometimes-dreams-crack-me-up.html' title='sometimes dreams crack me up.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/SbF14SsSscI/AAAAAAAAAak/C8w6bDatE_c/s72-c/sleeping-beauty-castle-at-disneyland.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-7795178988909962247</id><published>2009-03-05T18:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T19:13:45.521-08:00</updated><title type='text'>surreal.</title><content type='html'>I fainted today and was convinced for a moment I was going to die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a severe pain in my lower back, got off the couch, walked across the room, then keeled over in pain. I tried to find a position on the floor that would make it stop. It wouldn't. I kept moving positions and nothing would work. I began to sweat and cry. Recognizing being on the floor wasn't helping any, I got up and walked back towards the couch,then opened my eyes and saw I was on the floor with two chairs and a lamp fallen over beside me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got up, fell onto the couch, and lied there for a moment. My ears were buzzing really loudly to the point of not being able to hear anything else.&lt;br /&gt;That and the pain went away after a couple more minutes,and then I cried. hard.&lt;br /&gt;And called my parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to see the doctor, who is also the man I used to work for as a receptionist. Everyone at that clinic are beautiful and they treated me like family. It was the most pleasant doctor experience you could possibly have.&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting some tests done, but essentially, the doctor said the fainting was because of the pain, but he doesn't know the reason for the pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not worried anymore knowing I've got a doctor that cares. And feel physically absolutely fine, but it was a really scary afternoon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-7795178988909962247?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/7795178988909962247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=7795178988909962247' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/7795178988909962247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/7795178988909962247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/surreal.html' title='surreal.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-8395296655851837985</id><published>2009-03-05T07:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T07:20:23.633-08:00</updated><title type='text'>thankyou dad.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/Sa_tnB3TmaI/AAAAAAAAAac/O8uI8g4u-tw/s1600-h/myferrets!.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 264px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/Sa_tnB3TmaI/AAAAAAAAAac/O8uI8g4u-tw/s320/myferrets!.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309723740464191906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my father just sent me this photo.&lt;br /&gt;these are the two young kits, the &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;unexpected&lt;/span&gt; offspring of Bandit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;aren't they the cutest things you've ever seen????&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-8395296655851837985?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/8395296655851837985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=8395296655851837985' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8395296655851837985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/8395296655851837985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/thankyou-dad.html' title='thankyou dad.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/Sa_tnB3TmaI/AAAAAAAAAac/O8uI8g4u-tw/s72-c/myferrets!.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-2349965110303576462</id><published>2009-03-05T06:34:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T06:41:37.912-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i just remembered some dream.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/Sa_kZINHAoI/AAAAAAAAAaU/B2weUf2VRIs/s1600-h/ferret.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 274px; height: 277px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/Sa_kZINHAoI/AAAAAAAAAaU/B2weUf2VRIs/s320/ferret.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309713606043435650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sweet!&lt;br /&gt;I had a ferret.&lt;br /&gt;I was living by myself in a perpetually dark apartment, and spent a lot of time on the floor, with my ferret.&lt;br /&gt;It had dark fur with a white stripe across its eyes-the cutest kind of ferret there is. (just like the one in the picture, and just like Bandit, the ferret I had living in Israel)&lt;br /&gt;It was super nice. So nice that a friend came to visit and I explained to her in length how nice it was, in comparison to other ferrets I've owned.&lt;br /&gt;It didn't bite. It's claws were soft, and it snuggled. It was perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a stuffed animal that I whipped around on the floor to get the ferret excited and hopping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man was it adorable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-2349965110303576462?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/2349965110303576462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=2349965110303576462' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2349965110303576462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2349965110303576462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-just-remembered-some-dream.html' title='i just remembered some dream.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_i4prCzPi75I/Sa_kZINHAoI/AAAAAAAAAaU/B2weUf2VRIs/s72-c/ferret.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-783575047614330917</id><published>2009-03-05T06:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T06:31:09.214-08:00</updated><title type='text'>yuck.</title><content type='html'>I feel totally poopy right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my alarm went off my immediate response was a voice of reason in my head saying "nope. your alarm clock is wrong. it is not the time it says it is, nor time for you to wake up."&lt;br /&gt;But that voice was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;And my next thought was "why do I feel so inexplicably sad right now?"&lt;br /&gt;And I don't know why. I must have had some crazy sad dreams because I really feel like I could cry right now, for no clear reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day will get better. I'm sure of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-783575047614330917?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/783575047614330917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=783575047614330917' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/783575047614330917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/783575047614330917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/yuck.html' title='yuck.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-5718583912888305400</id><published>2009-03-03T20:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T21:03:06.904-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm having a moment</title><content type='html'>This is silly.&lt;br /&gt;Sparked by a completely innocent chat now I'm feeling all confused and muddled in my brain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm only an undergraduate so I've got the excuse of young age and inexperience to shield me from the judgment of others...but that shield doesn't work against myself.&lt;br /&gt;So I feel like I should know what I'm doing with my art.&lt;br /&gt;But I don't.&lt;br /&gt;And that's stressing me out.&lt;br /&gt;And it shouldn't.&lt;br /&gt;But I simply, can't help it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some times there are &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;these&lt;/span&gt; times, when there's nothing I can do to tell myself it's okay even though I know it is.&lt;br /&gt;What I need is someone or something else to reassure me, it really is okay...&lt;br /&gt;You don't have to figure it ALL out. &lt;br /&gt;ever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-5718583912888305400?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/5718583912888305400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=5718583912888305400' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5718583912888305400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/5718583912888305400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-having-moment.html' title='I&apos;m having a moment'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-1412836768928193419</id><published>2009-03-03T06:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T06:49:16.573-08:00</updated><title type='text'>good morning Bellingham</title><content type='html'>so the fast went well yesterday. i've taken the chance to cut back on coffee so most of the day was somewhat unfocused with a looming headache and need for sleep.&lt;br /&gt;but i wasn't terribly hungry...and i guess even if i were, that's not the point?&lt;br /&gt;anyway,&lt;br /&gt;it feels really good to have committed to something fully, to have a strict schedule, and to see that the sun is rising earlier and setting later every day.&lt;br /&gt;it's about time that you come out to play sun, it's about time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on another note, Maia came over last night to watch the film Lost in Beijing with me. we did that, and were terribly disturbed. everyone in that film is screwy and all they do is disrespect themselves and each other the ENTIRE film. i kept finding myself gawking at the laptop screen in shock and disapproval. Maia's face was composed but clearly focused intently on their misdeeds.&lt;br /&gt;anyway, if you want to watch four Chinese people constantly being jerks to one another, you should watch it. otherwise, don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maia slept over because busing home in the evenings is never fun. She slept in my dreamspace, I on the futon because of this early morning noise. I was awake most of the night for some reason, lying there happily awake. I really have no clue why. But the whole time, and now, after waking, I feel a comfort in knowing a friend is here.&lt;br /&gt;I hope she's having interesting,&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; memorable&lt;/span&gt; dreams right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-1412836768928193419?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/1412836768928193419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=1412836768928193419' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1412836768928193419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/1412836768928193419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/good-morning-bellingham.html' title='good morning Bellingham'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-9042223091552950865</id><published>2009-03-02T05:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T06:31:31.894-08:00</updated><title type='text'>where i will get my MFA.</title><content type='html'>Firstly, I am awake earlier than 6 am. That is not crazy, because I'm doing the Baha'i Fast, which means only eating and drinking before the sunrises and after the sunsets. Also, sleep wasn't happening because of the INSANE bluster outside and the CRAZY COOL imagery I had in this dream:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was going to check out a new university I planned to attend. Really stoked on it, I entered nervously ecstatic, but that changed quickly.&lt;br /&gt;The walls were pristine white and tiled floors shiny with a recent buffing. No students were in sight and it was silent. The ceilings were high, with classical detailing...which I'll admit was beautiful, but not the familiar grunge of an art school I was expecting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to find the art department and there were no signs anywhere. The campus felt vast. I went into one of the classrooms as a group of students were taking their seats. The professor was seated at a desk in the front of the room. It was clearly a geology class--the professor was lanky with a curly poof of hair and he made nervous gestures paired with erratic eye movements.&lt;br /&gt;I stood in line with a few others waiting to speak with him as he jotted things down on a pile of papers on his desk.&lt;br /&gt;Feeling urgency, I skipped a couple people in line, leaned in towards him, and said "Excuse me! &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Where&lt;/span&gt; is the art department?" with an attitude that has only come from my mouth in real life with my parents, when i'm grumpy.&lt;br /&gt;"Oh. young lady. i have no idea! does this school even have an art department???" he replied genuinely unsure.&lt;br /&gt;"uh. yeah?"&lt;br /&gt;Then he went on to continue writing things on papers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left, feeling frustrated and rejected. Looking around I could tell it would take a lot to get along with the students around me. A lot. I wasn't their type, and they weren't mine. They were all too clean---is what I remember thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I continued searching down the white halls passing by blank after blank poster board, and went outside. My mom was with me, in a wheelchair? she was also someone else...She suggested to walk through the garden and see if it was on the other side.&lt;br /&gt;I did, and found it.&lt;br /&gt;But.&lt;br /&gt;There were three different gate entries to get into the art complex and I didn't know how to get into any of them. They each required a different puzzle or special maneuver. Finally after a few tries, I got into the metal door by pushing at a particular angle.&lt;br /&gt;Immediately upon walking in I knew this was the place for me. People were wearing lose sweaters and each had their own mess of a hairdo and loose walk that communicated they could care less. I walked up to the main building which was a medieval bell tower. A man was standing there. I introduced myself. He was friendly, and the dean of the department. Students around were smiling.&lt;br /&gt;I walked through a hall and came to door, passed through it, and saw an entire &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;building facade made with play-doh&lt;/span&gt;. It was the coolest. thing. ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and this school. I remember having the distinct understanding it was in Australia...even though upon waking I realize that's not a place i've considered going for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later I overheard Barack Obama explaining to a few men how important the oval office is. How he must do everything in there, including get his daily exercise, eat his picnics, and make his decisions. A very important place, he repeated, then turned to enter and close the door behind him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. this oatmeal is terrible.&lt;br /&gt;note to self: must find better morning food.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-9042223091552950865?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/9042223091552950865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=9042223091552950865' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/9042223091552950865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/9042223091552950865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/where-i-will-get-my-mfa.html' title='where i will get my MFA.'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-2159558498643039904</id><published>2009-03-01T12:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T12:37:07.281-08:00</updated><title type='text'>pregnant in China</title><content type='html'>I slept twelve entire hours last night. That's a lot. And now I feel hazy with a thick fog of something lingering on my brain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I remember some dream stuff.&lt;br /&gt;I was pregnant and Leila (my sister-in-law) was with me. We were in a doctor's office and I thought, "How did I end up here? I guess it's too late to make plans to give birth at home!" A man came in with the regular doctor garb and as I lay on a table with my knees up and legs spread he picked up something off the counter. He turned and I saw it in his hand. While he spoke with Leila I gawked at this thing. It looked like a nightguard for your teeth but four times bigger and with a handle and clamp. He saw me looking and made a comical face that expressed he knew it was a crazy contraption but that's just the way it is with birthing...&lt;br /&gt;So he came over to me and propped me open with it. This would create an easier canal for the baby to travel through. But, baby wasn't ready.&lt;br /&gt;I lied there waiting for baby to come out but she was still. I didn't have any contractions. We were all bored, so we went on our way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later I was still pregnant, but now in China.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later my parents and I were traveling by car through a rough rocky landscape. We stopped in a few places and had a tour guide, a creepy creepy tour guide, who kept explaining how people had died in a variety of locations. A few other people were with us. At one point I sat on a moist rock just above the beginning of an enormous waterfall. The mist was covering me, but I could see that three young people were in the water at the edge of the waterfall. The tour guide was speaking and suddenly, the young boy dove straight into the water, in effect killing himself as he plunged to the depths of the fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later we were arriving in China. We entered a large square and went straight to a passport control office at the other end. A woman showed us each individually a bronze object which meant we had to sign something, then give her a dollar. Then we were set. I may have still been pregnant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Leila, I think I dreamt about your pregnancy. But I also think pregnancy was a symbol here of a new beginning, since it was sort of paired with dreams of China...interesting)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-2159558498643039904?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/2159558498643039904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=2159558498643039904' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2159558498643039904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/2159558498643039904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/03/pregnant-in-china.html' title='pregnant in China'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-6870747497845220001</id><published>2009-02-28T15:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-28T15:17:29.840-08:00</updated><title type='text'>also</title><content type='html'>Tennessee Williams:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Speak out the broken language of your hearts and we'll supply the sense where it seems to be needed."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Knocking down walls&lt;br /&gt;          with two&lt;br /&gt;             blue&lt;br /&gt;               brutal&lt;br /&gt;                  bare fists&lt;br /&gt;                     clenched over quicksilver&lt;br /&gt;could ever-(&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;tenderly&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;      could certainly never-enclose&lt;br /&gt;such longing as was my sister's!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How much less night,&lt;br /&gt;fearlessly stating with stars-&lt;br /&gt;         that breathless inflection&lt;br /&gt;                                Forever?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-6870747497845220001?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/6870747497845220001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=6870747497845220001' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/6870747497845220001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/6870747497845220001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/02/also.html' title='also'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1849198918029175980.post-6167375840786509120</id><published>2009-02-28T10:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-28T10:42:47.749-08:00</updated><title type='text'>last night</title><content type='html'>was pretty cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was Glenn's birthday recently so we went to see some live music then dance. We joined forces with Riley who was also celebrating his birthday. Riley was on ecstasy so it was really interesting speaking with him. (mom, dad, don't worry. just don't. i've never dropped any kind of drug...it's actually the first time i've even been around someone on E) Anyway, at one point I was standing beside him and he looked over at me with a continued eye contact for about a minute and said "Carissa, you're a gorgeous enigma" and I first laughed awkwardly, then said "What?" so he repeated. Then I said "Awwww, thanks, I don't really know what that means but..."&lt;br /&gt;"That means you're a mystery. You're so shy, but then you talk and you have interesting things to say."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh. Thanks!" then I patted him on the shoulder and said, "I know it's the ecstacy talking, but thanks."&lt;br /&gt;"No. no. I've thought this before."&lt;br /&gt;"Haha, okay. thanks."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we all went to hear the band.&lt;br /&gt;Which by the way was amazing. They really blew my mind. They were like jazz and funk and metal all at once. They're a local band called Jill Brazil, you should listen on myspace, they're soooooo good: http://www.myspace.com/jillbrazil&lt;br /&gt;Of course they're better live than on myspace, but still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after that, Bryce, Glenn and I couldn't stop saying "amazing" "so good" "awesome" then went to dance. It was super fun dancing with Glenn doing his hippy-like wiggle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, the night was fun.&lt;br /&gt;Now I need to plan my last quarter at Western, and figure out some Tesol business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I'm feeling self conscious and weird about the way i've been writing on this blog. it's become a really egotistical thing, but i guess that's that. hopefully it doesn't make me seem like a jerk that only cares about herself.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1849198918029175980-6167375840786509120?l=babygoodsmule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/feeds/6167375840786509120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1849198918029175980&amp;postID=6167375840786509120' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/6167375840786509120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1849198918029175980/posts/default/6167375840786509120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://babygoodsmule.blogspot.com/2009/02/last-night.html' title='last night'/><author><name>Carissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03774325916028047922</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/_i4prCzPi75I/SmlPII1tDLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/5W5iJxDOrm0/S220/DSCF1222.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
