<?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-1034511738719974779</id><updated>2012-02-16T05:15:55.307-08:00</updated><category term='relationships'/><category term='bucket list'/><category term='personal'/><category term='life'/><title type='text'>This Is My World</title><subtitle type='html'>thoughts of my cluttered mind.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12029813946266213753</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ht-ZJkG1Iys/TwFBzoPIeWI/AAAAAAAAADs/l4pQtDBOKNg/s220/Photoon10-9-11at405PM4.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1034511738719974779.post-3046402488524459414</id><published>2012-01-06T20:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-16T21:44:22.107-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal'/><title type='text'>Tell Me How You Really Feel. Things No One Else Sees.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I feel really misunderstood sometimes. There's so much going on in my head that no one knows about because I keep pretty much everything locked inside. I don't really express how I feel to anyone. I don't know why. I guess it's partly because I've grown up pretty anti-social. Up until high school I didn't really have any real friends. I had people I would talk to in school just because they were there. I would call them my friends, but of course I knew otherwise. The period of time between 6th to 8th grade was one of the worst periods of my life. I was a nobody. I felt so completely alone. I was pretty much any outcast people would talk to just because I was around. I was also a very closed off kid because I hated absolutely everything about my life. At that time we were still living in the projects and home life wasn't much better than school. But I guess I have to be grateful for all of it because that isolation I felt was what got me involved in writing in the first place and what got me so into reading and music as well. Then high school I wasn't very social either, but I had opened up a bit and actually let people get close to me. Freshman year was horrible. I had very very low self-esteem. I had a few friends, one of them being one of my current best friends, but still I hated life then too. Junior year was a horrible year too. I had so many conflicts during that year that I don't even remember because I blocked it all out. Senior year wasn't all that great either, but at least I had a few friends that made it bearable. The only time in high school that was actually good was sophomore year. It was the only time I could look back on and have good memories. But all of these years piled together of isolation and terribly bad self-esteem made me into who I am today. I'm a lot stronger because of them. Now in college I have made genuine friends and have good memories throughout the years. Freshman and sophomore years were the best. Junior year was a disappointing year, very few things were actually good about it but still the good times could out-way that. But still even with all the evolving I've down since high school I still feel detached sometimes. I still feel like there's still a wall between me and everyone else that I just can't break down. I've just been so used to being a loner it's hard to truly let anyone in. Even my closest friends don't know me well enough. I hide basically everything from everyone. What everyone knows about me is just barely scratching the surface of what makes up me. And still even with all the evolving I still have that nagging bit of self-consciousness left. I'm not nearly as self-conscious as I used to be, but still it's there. It comes about mostly when it comes to 'crushes' which actually are a lot less frequent than they used to be. I used to be a 'crush-a-holic' as one of my friends deemed me long ago. All in my quest to finding who I've been waiting for (see following post). I still crush a lot, but rarely goes past initial attraction anymore. But anyway, I always get sidetracked. I sometimes feel like I'm not good enough. There's quite a few things about myself I'd like to change, minor things but still things. And overall just sometimes I just don't think I'm all that attractive. I feel like I just have a weird look that wouldn't appeal to very many people. I especially hate it when I see some completely gorgeous guy and I'm completely invisible. It sucks. Big time. It sucks even more that I have all these pretty friends. I'm not saying I'm ugly. I know that I'm not. I just don't think I'm good enough... sometimes, not always. And then personality-wise I definitely don't think I'm good enough. This is mostly due to the fact that I absolutely suck at conversation the majority of the time, a relic of my anti-social times. I feel like even if I were to attract someone eventually they would just get bored and find someone else. There's only so much sarcasm and wit a person can take. And then of course my friends are loved by everyone they come in contact with. Figures.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1034511738719974779-3046402488524459414?l=melmartii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/feeds/3046402488524459414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/tell-me-how-you-really-feel-things-no.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/3046402488524459414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/3046402488524459414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/tell-me-how-you-really-feel-things-no.html' title='Tell Me How You Really Feel. Things No One Else Sees.'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12029813946266213753</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ht-ZJkG1Iys/TwFBzoPIeWI/AAAAAAAAADs/l4pQtDBOKNg/s220/Photoon10-9-11at405PM4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1034511738719974779.post-8036000349130396245</id><published>2012-01-06T19:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-16T21:44:32.905-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><title type='text'>Lost Without You (Whoever You Are)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Ever since I can remember I'd dreamt of finding love. From a very young age finding that one true love became my obsession. It's the one thing in life I knew I really wanted. I've always felt like there was a part of me missing and I just had to find this other person to feel complete. I know a lot of people feel the same way, but I don't think anyone feels it as strongly as I do. I don't think anyone wants it as much as I do. Over the years I've mistakenly thought many of the guys I've encountered could be the piece I was missing. Thinking back on all of them now I see how delusional I was. No one I've met has come even close to what I'm searching for. I have very high standards. A lot of people think it's dumb to be this way, but it's really the only way I know to be. I have tried lowering my standards and just taking in someone I could have but every time it ends badly. I don't want just anyone. When I try to take in someone that I know deep down isn't the one I'm searching for I become annoyed with them very easily and very quickly. I've hurt quite a few guys because of this. I really don't mean to and I hate that I do, but I don't know how to handle it. I'm a complicated person. I don't like hurting people's feelings so I won't tell someone (usually) straight out that I don't like them, I just string them along. It's a horrible habit. Eventually I'll either be so obnoxious to them they'll go away on their own or I'll distance myself from them until they disappear. I dislike conflict. Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked. The point is, I only want one person. I have an idea in my head of who I'm looking for and I want nothing less. I feel like he is out there. I just wish I knew when he is going to walk into my life. Every now and then I think maybe someone I met could be 'him' and then I'm tragically disappointed when they end up being a completely different person than I originally thought (one particular case I have in mind right now- a boy in school my friends and I deemed 'pipe dude'- so tragically wrong about that one). Every now and then I get so frustrated by not having this person I'm searching for in my life I literally become depressed by it. It may seem silly, but you aren't in my head so who are you to judge. There's so much in my life I'm unhappy with. There's so much of my past that I want to forget but can't. I really truly feel that if I were to find this person everything would be so much better. Things that are hard to deal with now would be easier with this person by my side. Sometimes I worry I might not be able to find this person. It scares me that I might not be able to because every part of my being is waiting for him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1034511738719974779-8036000349130396245?l=melmartii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/feeds/8036000349130396245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/lost-without-you-whoever-you-are.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/8036000349130396245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/8036000349130396245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/lost-without-you-whoever-you-are.html' title='Lost Without You (Whoever You Are)'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12029813946266213753</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ht-ZJkG1Iys/TwFBzoPIeWI/AAAAAAAAADs/l4pQtDBOKNg/s220/Photoon10-9-11at405PM4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1034511738719974779.post-4870592609150941259</id><published>2012-01-06T16:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T19:30:48.727-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>Alexithymia</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote class="tr_bq"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #8e7cc3;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;This is a term coined by psychotherapist Peter Sifneos in 1973&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;to describe a state of deficiency in understanding, processing, or describing emotions. The word comes from the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ancient_Greek" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; text-decoration: none;" title="Ancient Greek"&gt;Ancient Greek&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;words λέξις (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;lexis&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;, "diction", "word") and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thumos" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; text-decoration: none;" title="Thumos"&gt;θυμός&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;thumos&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;, "soul, as the seat of emotion, feeling, and thought") modified by an&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Privative_a" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; text-decoration: none;" title="Privative a"&gt;alpha-privative&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;, literally meaning "without words for&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emotions" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; text-decoration: none;" title="Emotions"&gt;emotions&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote class="tr_bq"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;- Taken from the source of all knowledge, wikipedia.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Baskerville; line-height: 18px;"&gt;I have this problem. I had no idea it was a legit problem. I can understand and process emotions just fine, but I can not for the life of me express emotions to people. This causes a lot of problems in relationships. I can't tell someone how I feel about them. I'd had quite a few boys get ticked off at me because I refused to tell them how I felt. It wasn't because I just didn't want, I really just didn't know how to. The most I can say is "I like you." Don't ask for explanation because you will get none.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1034511738719974779-4870592609150941259?l=melmartii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/feeds/4870592609150941259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/alexithymia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/4870592609150941259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/4870592609150941259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/alexithymia.html' title='Alexithymia'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12029813946266213753</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ht-ZJkG1Iys/TwFBzoPIeWI/AAAAAAAAADs/l4pQtDBOKNg/s220/Photoon10-9-11at405PM4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1034511738719974779.post-6826973535255874218</id><published>2012-01-04T19:45:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-16T21:44:48.351-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><title type='text'>My Thoughts On Relationships and Sex</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I feel like too much emphasis is put on sex these days. You can't see any show now that doesn't portray sex as a primary part of a relationship. Which sucks because it puts a whole lot of pressure on girls to do it. It makes it seem as if being a virgin is something out of the ordinary. Many of the guys I have talked to are surprised when I tell them I'm a virgin. A few of them compliment me on it because it makes me 'pure.' I was brought up on the belief that sex is supposed to be saved until after marriage. Now, I'm not entirely sure whether that will actually happen, but I sure as hell am not going to hook up with someone just because it's expected or because of infatuated lust. I know a lot of people that few sex as just something to do because you feel like it. I can't have that point of view. To me sex should be special. It should be with someone that you truly love. I respect other point of views of it. I'm not saying that it's wrong for other people to do it, but casual sex just isn't for me. Some guys respect me for it, others don't. For those that don't, good riddance I don't need you in my life anyway. I view even kissing as something intimate as well. I won't kiss just anyone. I actually didn't kiss anyone until just recently. And actually after that person I'm now going to be pickier than I originally was. I get attached very easily. I'm very vulnerable to being hurt. This is one of the main reasons I haven't had a relationship. So many people can't believe that at 21 I still haven't had a relationship. Well, I really just haven't found anyone that I felt I would want to put in the effort of a relationship with. And when I did, it didn't work out. Life happens. I don't think it's that big a deal to be inexperienced. Sure, sometimes I wish I had someone, but I'm not going to date someone just to have someone. If I'm going to date someone I want it to be because we have a genuine connection. I also think the word love is thrown around way too often. I think you can't truly tell if you love someone for at least around 6 months to a year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1034511738719974779-6826973535255874218?l=melmartii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/feeds/6826973535255874218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-thoughts-on-relationships-and-sex.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/6826973535255874218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/6826973535255874218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-thoughts-on-relationships-and-sex.html' title='My Thoughts On Relationships and Sex'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12029813946266213753</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ht-ZJkG1Iys/TwFBzoPIeWI/AAAAAAAAADs/l4pQtDBOKNg/s220/Photoon10-9-11at405PM4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1034511738719974779.post-5373846701702784777</id><published>2012-01-04T19:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T19:29:57.741-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><title type='text'>A Different Time for Romance</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote class="tr_bq"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #c27ba0; font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;“&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;span class="quote" style="margin-top: 0px !important; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;I wanna go back to the generation where “going out” was going on a date, not immediately begin bf/gf. I wanna go back to the generation when a guy had to get permission from the girl’s parents to ask her out. I wanna go back to the generation where a guy would physically call her and talk to her, not text. I wanna go back to the generation where your first kiss would be with someone you’ve been dating for months, not hookup with a guy you meet in a club. I wanna go back to the generation where a guy would give you his varsity jacket. I wanna go back to the generation where a girl can get any guy just by wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of sneakers. I wanna go back to the generation where couples slow danced, not grind. I wanna go back to the generation where love actually made sense…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;One of my friends had this as her status one day on Facebook, and I really liked it. I really do wish romance and relationships was thought of in this way again. Going out should be going out on dates, and by that I mean going out on dates with one person. I'm not into casual dating. I think people need to be friends first, then when they realize they have feelings for each other they date, and then get into a relationship if it seems right. "Love is friendship set on fire." No one ever does it anymore really, but I think it's a sweet idea that a guy should ask permission to date a girl. I respect my family's opinion of people, and I don't think things would work out if my parents didn't approve of a guy. Some people may think that's stupid, but hey that's what I think. For the calling instead of texting, I'm not really all that great in phone conversations I'll admit that, but I would prefer to have a guy call me at least every once in a while and have long conversations over the phone instead of texting. You can't convey the same things through text as you can over the phone. Plus, I'd like to hear his voice. I refer to this kissing situation in my next post, but basically I don't kiss just anyone. Well, no one really has varsity jackets anymore, at least I don't think so. But I do think it's cute if a girl wears her boyfriend's clothes. Now, the part about getting a guy with just jeans and t-shirt that I do think still exists to an extent. Yes, it is true that girls that dress up tend to draw the eye more, but it's entirely possible that a simple dressed girl can get attention as well. I think this one depends more on having a guy know your personality. There are times when I dress very casual in sweatshirts and have been told I look good. It depends on the guy. As far as slow dancing and not grind, well we don't exactly have many opportunities for slow dancing. So I understand this has sort of phased out. &amp;amp; finally love never makes sense no matter the time period.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1034511738719974779-5373846701702784777?l=melmartii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/feeds/5373846701702784777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/different-time-for-romance.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/5373846701702784777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/5373846701702784777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/different-time-for-romance.html' title='A Different Time for Romance'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12029813946266213753</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ht-ZJkG1Iys/TwFBzoPIeWI/AAAAAAAAADs/l4pQtDBOKNg/s220/Photoon10-9-11at405PM4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1034511738719974779.post-4084907967324980734</id><published>2012-01-03T21:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-16T21:45:09.292-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>What If...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;What if none of this is real? What if you were to wake up one day and realize nothing you thought was reality was actually reality? What if you were a completely different person that you thought? I've thought of this so many times. Many people do; especially I think if you're unsatisfied with your life. Someone I really do feel like none of this is real. I have a hard time sometimes taking things seriously because the world doesn't make sense if you really think about. Why do things work they way they do? I don't know how to explain it in words the way it seems in my head. Another part of this would be reincarnation. Some people think it's impossible, but I think it's entirely possible. Why can't it? What if the way your life goes now is in direct correlation with the way you were in a past life? &amp;amp; yet again thing that goes along with all these things is ghosts. I believe in ghosts. I've heard stories from people I trust. I think it's possible that souls cling to the Earth. Sometimes I wish I would see a ghost and be able to interact with one just because it'd be fascinating to find out how it is. I know, it's weird but what can I say I'm a weird kid. Sometimes I wish I could really just slip into my dream world for a while too. Sometimes my dream world is so much better than the real world. Sometimes I'm so much happier in my dream world than I am in the reality.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1034511738719974779-4084907967324980734?l=melmartii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/feeds/4084907967324980734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/what-if.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/4084907967324980734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/4084907967324980734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/what-if.html' title='What If...'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12029813946266213753</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ht-ZJkG1Iys/TwFBzoPIeWI/AAAAAAAAADs/l4pQtDBOKNg/s220/Photoon10-9-11at405PM4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1034511738719974779.post-4986416549897544236</id><published>2012-01-03T10:45:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T19:26:57.779-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bucket list'/><title type='text'>The Bucket List [1]</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Go to a shooting range: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;This has always just seemed like a really cool idea to me. Test my accuracy, test my strength.&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;I know a few people that have done it and it's supposed to be really intense because the guns are powerful and loud.&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Learn to scuba dive: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I'm absolutely terrified of swimming because I'm terrified of drowning. With scuba diving I figure at least you have any oxygen tank going down with you.&amp;nbsp;Plus it would just be really cool to swim with the fish deep down under in the depths of the water.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #c27ba0; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Go to the MoMa, Guggenheim, Smithsonian: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I love museums and these are three of the most famous museums near me. I've been to the MET and the Museum of Natural History. I love art. I'm not all that savvy in art, but I can still appreciate it's amazing qualities.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Go to a dive-in movie: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;This is mostly because they're not really around anymore. A friend mentioned that there's one somewhere in upstate New York I think. I really want to go just for the experience. I'd prefer to go with a boy just because any time you see it movies it's as usually as a date.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Go to a film festival: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;As a movie junkie this had to be on the list.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1034511738719974779-4986416549897544236?l=melmartii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/feeds/4986416549897544236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/bucket-list-explained-part-9.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/4986416549897544236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/4986416549897544236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/bucket-list-explained-part-9.html' title='The Bucket List [1]'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12029813946266213753</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ht-ZJkG1Iys/TwFBzoPIeWI/AAAAAAAAADs/l4pQtDBOKNg/s220/Photoon10-9-11at405PM4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1034511738719974779.post-5224724033328325897</id><published>2012-01-03T10:44:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T19:26:49.790-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bucket list'/><title type='text'>The Bucket List [2]</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Go to the village halloween parade: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I've heard it's insanely cool. As a New Yorker and someone that absolutely adores the city, I feel like I'm obligated to go to the Halloween parade in the Village at least once. I want to get together a really cool costume and head out with a group of friends and experience Halloween in this really cool way with hundreds of other people.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Visit the walk of fame: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Every movie junkie has to do this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Take cute pictures in a photo booth: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I don't really know. I've just have always thought this was really cute. I want to have a box of memories with a boyfriend and this has to be in it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Visit the Wizarding World of Harry Potter: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I'm a Harry Potter fanatic. What else can I say? This would just be so much fun for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #c27ba0; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Go snowboarding/skiing: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;This scares me a lot. I'm scared of falling and getting injured. But this looks like so much fun.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1034511738719974779-5224724033328325897?l=melmartii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/feeds/5224724033328325897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/bucket-list-explained-part-8.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/5224724033328325897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/5224724033328325897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/bucket-list-explained-part-8.html' title='The Bucket List [2]'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12029813946266213753</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ht-ZJkG1Iys/TwFBzoPIeWI/AAAAAAAAADs/l4pQtDBOKNg/s220/Photoon10-9-11at405PM4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1034511738719974779.post-727842897620543306</id><published>2012-01-03T10:44:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T19:26:41.745-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bucket list'/><title type='text'>The Bucket List [3]</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Visit a walk-through aquarium: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I just think this would be really cool. To see the animals swimming all around. It would feel like you're in there with them. I love animals, I always have. Going to the zoo is one of my favorite things to do, so I think I'd really enjoy this too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Visit the Taj Mahal: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I read in a book one day that if you kiss at the Taj Mahal you'll know if he's the one. I want to test that out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Have someone win me a giant stuffed animal: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Well, I just think this really cute. There's a fair that goes on two blocks down from my house every summer and I always go and I always wish I had someone to win me something. I also really want to go to a big carnival one day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Go to the Chocolate Museum in Spain: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;SO COOL! That is all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1034511738719974779-727842897620543306?l=melmartii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/feeds/727842897620543306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/bucket-list-explained-part-7.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/727842897620543306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/727842897620543306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/bucket-list-explained-part-7.html' title='The Bucket List [3]'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12029813946266213753</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ht-ZJkG1Iys/TwFBzoPIeWI/AAAAAAAAADs/l4pQtDBOKNg/s220/Photoon10-9-11at405PM4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1034511738719974779.post-3286433102562775235</id><published>2012-01-03T10:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T19:26:32.974-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bucket list'/><title type='text'>The Bucket List [4]</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #76a5af; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Attach a lock to a love bridge: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I saw a post on the love bridge on a blog somewhere once. I don't remember what blog it was, but I thought it was really cool&amp;nbsp;&amp;amp; romantic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #76a5af; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Ride a roller coaster: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I'm terrified of heights. This would be a really big accomplishment for me. But it's one of those adrenaline things that I just need to experience at least once.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;See a play on broadway: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I saw the Nutcracker once way back in 6th grade and I thought it was amazing. I love theater. I never get to go and I really wish I could.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b4a7d6; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Go to a concert: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I'm a music fiend. I need to go to many many concerts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1034511738719974779-3286433102562775235?l=melmartii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/feeds/3286433102562775235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/bucket-list-explained-part-6_03.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/3286433102562775235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/3286433102562775235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/bucket-list-explained-part-6_03.html' title='The Bucket List [4]'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12029813946266213753</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ht-ZJkG1Iys/TwFBzoPIeWI/AAAAAAAAADs/l4pQtDBOKNg/s220/Photoon10-9-11at405PM4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1034511738719974779.post-5444529455432509430</id><published>2012-01-03T10:42:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T19:26:20.442-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bucket list'/><title type='text'>The Bucket List [5]</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Learn to play guitar/drums/piano: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I've always been really interested in instruments. A lot of the time I like certain songs mainly because of the background, not really even listening to the lyrics or even the singer themselves.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #c27ba0; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Go into an airport and buy tickets for a random flight: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I need to do this one day on a whim. Be spontaneous. It would be awesome.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Ride random trains and get off at random stops: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Again, being spontaneous would just be really a lot of fun.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Create a milkshake at millions of milkshakes: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Just a fun thing to do. I used to work at Carvel and always had fun creating random flavors. Inventing something cool and tasty milkshake would be great.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #93c47d; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Have someone make me breakfast in bed: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Romantic movies are such a pain. They create all these situations that hopeless romantics end up craving. This is just another one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1034511738719974779-5444529455432509430?l=melmartii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/feeds/5444529455432509430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/bucket-list-explained-part-6.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/5444529455432509430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/5444529455432509430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/bucket-list-explained-part-6.html' title='The Bucket List [5]'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12029813946266213753</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ht-ZJkG1Iys/TwFBzoPIeWI/AAAAAAAAADs/l4pQtDBOKNg/s220/Photoon10-9-11at405PM4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1034511738719974779.post-8759077839798873044</id><published>2012-01-03T10:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T19:26:09.623-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bucket list'/><title type='text'>The Bucket List [6]</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;Backpack through Europe:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I have an intense desire to travel and see what the world has to offer. Backpacking throughout Europe is just one small part of it. I want to try different foods of different cultures. I want to take in the traditions and cultures of other countries. I want to meet all the variety of people all around the world.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6fa8dc; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Party on a cruise ship: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;This just recently made it into my bucket list. Before I wasn't so interested in partying, but now I can see it'd be fun.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;"&gt;Receive a dozen red roses:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;What girl doesn't want this?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f6b26b;"&gt;Have a romantic proposal:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I've thought of the different ways a proposal can happen millions of times. I don't know what the best proposal would be like. I think that's because the best proposal is completely unique, and something the man would have to come up with to take my breath away. I think the fortune cookie proposal is nice. The proposal in the movie Serendipity with the small boxes inside bigger boxes is really sweet as well. But I want something completely unique.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #c27ba0; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Go camping: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;This is just an adventure I think would be really cool. I'd be creeped out beyond belief, but I think it would be really fun with the right person or group of people. It basic horror movie scenarios, but hopefully it wouldn't come to that.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1034511738719974779-8759077839798873044?l=melmartii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/feeds/8759077839798873044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/bucket-list-explained-part-4.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/8759077839798873044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/8759077839798873044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/bucket-list-explained-part-4.html' title='The Bucket List [6]'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12029813946266213753</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ht-ZJkG1Iys/TwFBzoPIeWI/AAAAAAAAADs/l4pQtDBOKNg/s220/Photoon10-9-11at405PM4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1034511738719974779.post-5257259615354100978</id><published>2012-01-03T10:41:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T19:25:59.318-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bucket list'/><title type='text'>The Bucket List [7]</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #bf9000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Kiss under the stars/stargaze:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ead1dc; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;This is another romantic thing as many of these bucket list things seem to be. I think this one is probably one of my favorites of romantic things to do with a boyfriend. You can't really see stars all that much in New York. I want to find an isolated place where you can.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;"&gt;Have a night picnic at the park:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Getting tired of the romantic things yet? What can I say, I'm a hopeless romantic at heart. I've actually had dreams of this happening, and I want it to actually happen one day. I need a boyfriend that can cook. Mostly because I don't know how to cook, but also because I think it's really cute when a boyfriend cooks for his girlfriend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;"&gt;Kiss on the beach at sunset/sunrise:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Yes, another romantic thing. I'm getting them all in here on the list. Every romantic thing couples can do, I want to do.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;"&gt;Have a song written and sung to me:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I have a thing for musicians, and artists too. Seriously, if I had a boy write and sing a song for me I would most likely start crying.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #c27ba0;"&gt;Go on a road trip:&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Who doesn't want to go on a road trip with their closest friends? Singing along, probably out of tune, to a playlist of the songs with the highest energy. Stopping at random places to try fast-food joints, take crazy stupid pictures, and all else that's involved in the adventure.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1034511738719974779-5257259615354100978?l=melmartii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/feeds/5257259615354100978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/bucket-list-explained-part-3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/5257259615354100978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/5257259615354100978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/bucket-list-explained-part-3.html' title='The Bucket List [7]'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12029813946266213753</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ht-ZJkG1Iys/TwFBzoPIeWI/AAAAAAAAADs/l4pQtDBOKNg/s220/Photoon10-9-11at405PM4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1034511738719974779.post-5831789433448800797</id><published>2012-01-03T10:41:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T19:25:47.008-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bucket list'/><title type='text'>The Bucket List [8]</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #c27ba0; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Bungee jump/skydive/rock climb:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #c27ba0; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;All things that terrify me, but all things give an extreme adrenaline rush that I crave. These are things on pretty much anyone's bucket list. It's things that you wouldn't normally do because it's so out of your comfort zone, unless you're an adrenaline junkie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Kiss in the rain: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Another one of the romantic things. It's in so many movies. It's supposed to be so sweet. I see it happening after a big fight, and after making up the big romantic kiss in the rain happens. I don't know why, but I just want it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Ice skate in Central Park: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Just something everyone does. I've never been ice-skating and I'm sure I'd fall and bust my ass several times, but I want to do it anyway. It looks like it's fun with a big group of friends, or as a couple. In Central Park or Bryant Park I want to go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #93c47d; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Epic snowball-paintball-watergun-ballon fight:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #93c47d; font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The best thing to do with a big group of friends. This really needs no explanation. It's just awesome. It's a whole lot of fun, especially if you have a group of friends that's extremely competitive.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a2c4c9; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Direct/produce my own movie: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I watch movies and I'm fascinated with how things are created. I want to make something that people will talk about. Camera angles, story lines, and casting the right people to really make an impact. I'd love to be involved with all of it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1034511738719974779-5831789433448800797?l=melmartii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/feeds/5831789433448800797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/bucket-list-explained-part-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/5831789433448800797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/5831789433448800797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/bucket-list-explained-part-2.html' title='The Bucket List [8]'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12029813946266213753</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ht-ZJkG1Iys/TwFBzoPIeWI/AAAAAAAAADs/l4pQtDBOKNg/s220/Photoon10-9-11at405PM4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1034511738719974779.post-1420812390001849646</id><published>2012-01-03T10:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T19:25:34.219-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bucket list'/><title type='text'>The Bucket List [9]</title><content type='html'>On my personal tumblr I have my bucket list posted. I originally posted it after I was looking through pictures on weheartit &amp;amp; came across some posts from perfectbucketlist’s tumblr &amp;amp; decided to put together a bucket list of my own. Now, I feel like explaining why I want to do a few of these things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Lay out just to find shapes in the clouds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;This one comes from the hopeless romantic part of me. I want to do this one day with a boyfriend. Just lay out somewhere talking and picking out outrageous shapes in the clouds. I've seen in a few movies and I've seen it in a lot of pictures as well. It's cute and sweet and it's something I've always wanted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6fa8dc;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Have&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;perfect valentine’s day: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I've never had a good Valentine's Day because I've never had a valentine. Everyone makes such a big deal about Valentine's Day. They make the day a big deal. Romantic comedies are constantly showing off the day as one of the most special days in a relationship. I want this. I want to go to a nice special dinner. Or have a valentine surprise me with something amazing and sweet.&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f6b26b; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Have my fairytale wedding:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;So this is another of the hopeless romantic things. Ever since I was little I've dreamed of the perfect wedding. The dress, the church, the cake, the decorations, and of course the husband. Everything coming together to form the perfect day. The most important and special day of your life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #d5a6bd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Meet Johnny Depp: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Johnny Depp has been my favorite actor since I was around 10 years old and could actually realize what good acting was. I've been completely infatuated with him since then as well. He's absolutely amazing. Meeting him would make my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #bf9000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Own a horse farm:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I adore horses. They're beautiful. I've always had a soft spot for animals. I have three horses I'd name in particular in mind: Persephone- a brown female horse; Pegasus- a male white horse; and Midnight- a male black horse.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1034511738719974779-1420812390001849646?l=melmartii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/feeds/1420812390001849646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/bucket-list-explained-still-in-progress.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/1420812390001849646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/1420812390001849646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/bucket-list-explained-still-in-progress.html' title='The Bucket List [9]'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12029813946266213753</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ht-ZJkG1Iys/TwFBzoPIeWI/AAAAAAAAADs/l4pQtDBOKNg/s220/Photoon10-9-11at405PM4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1034511738719974779.post-4057525414271678078</id><published>2012-01-02T12:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-16T21:45:37.508-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal'/><title type='text'>Less Than You Deserve</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;I'm incredibly lost. I don't know what to think. I think God put limitations on my life for a reason. If I didn't have those limitations I feel like I'd be in a never-ending whorl-wind of confusion because I'd have more freedom to go out, meet people and do things I'd probably regret in the end. With my current situation I don't know whether or not I should pursue things and try to make it work or let it go. Then I have other things going on and it may be wrong, but what else am I supposed to do. I can't be expected to be strung along forever. As much as I want things to go back to the way they started, when it seemed as if we were on the right track, I don't think that's going to happen. That doesn't stop me from recapping the times with you over and over in my head. The first time getting close to someone means a lot. The first person means a lot. I don't want to let it go, but I guess it's not really up to me. In the beginning you were so worried about losing me, and now it ends up you're the one that's walking out on me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1034511738719974779-4057525414271678078?l=melmartii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/feeds/4057525414271678078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/bloggin-everyday-in-new-year-probably.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/4057525414271678078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/4057525414271678078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/bloggin-everyday-in-new-year-probably.html' title='Less Than You Deserve'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12029813946266213753</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ht-ZJkG1Iys/TwFBzoPIeWI/AAAAAAAAADs/l4pQtDBOKNg/s220/Photoon10-9-11at405PM4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1034511738719974779.post-4760291478606394122</id><published>2012-01-01T21:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-16T21:45:49.422-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal'/><title type='text'>For You.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="line-height: 19px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;So it’s a new year. I’m sincerely hoping that 2012 will be - to use the highly overused phrase - “my year.&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;” Last year was complicated. It had it’s ups and downs. And it ended on a sour note. I have all these feelings bottled up inside me that I wish I could just release, but for consequence of bad repercussions I retrain. There’s quite a few people that could use a good talking to. Although, only &lt;/span&gt;one&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;stands prominent in my mind. This is some of what I’d like to say to him..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="line-height: 19px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Dear asshole:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="line-height: 19px; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I want to hate you for making me feel this way. You’re a complete ass for saying all of what I now assume is &lt;u&gt;bullshit&lt;/u&gt; to me and then now acting as if I don’t exist. You made me believe you. You made me want to be with you. You made me want to trust you. I let you closer to me than anyone else has ever been able to. And for that I hate you&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;. I know you say you have your issues, but that doesn’t excuse how you treat me. If you knew it was going to be an issue you never should of started anything with me in the first place. I regret ever getting close to you. I regret ever speaking to you. Because of you the wall I put between myself and guys is higher&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt; than ever. If you, who I barely really knew, were able to get to me, then I’m much emotionally vulnerable than I originally thought. Perhaps my attachment to you is mostly physical. That thought has crossed my mind. But at least some part of me has to be emotionally attached as well because if I wasn’t, not having you around and not hearing from you wouldn’t bother me half as much as it does. I wouldn’t miss you half as much as I do. You’re an asshole. I wish I could hate you. It would be much easier to get over you. It would be much easier to forget you.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1034511738719974779-4760291478606394122?l=melmartii.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/feeds/4760291478606394122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/for-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/4760291478606394122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1034511738719974779/posts/default/4760291478606394122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melmartii.blogspot.com/2012/01/for-you.html' title='For You.'/><author><name>Melissa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12029813946266213753</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ht-ZJkG1Iys/TwFBzoPIeWI/AAAAAAAAADs/l4pQtDBOKNg/s220/Photoon10-9-11at405PM4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
