<?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-4771998912650894747</id><updated>2011-07-08T01:21:11.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tessellating Words</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Lynnette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17772263488355141189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SFCblPhceZI/AAAAAAAAANk/ncAkrsApJQI/S220/Photo+69.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4771998912650894747.post-2008548162098538566</id><published>2011-06-19T16:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-19T16:22:57.784-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Next Steps</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6KrU6Ygy5Sg/Tf6EZjxV9VI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/BkBljMRDtEo/s1600/44449823_ln79ye0K_c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 179px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6KrU6Ygy5Sg/Tf6EZjxV9VI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/BkBljMRDtEo/s320/44449823_ln79ye0K_c.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620074959638754642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've come to the realization that no one actually reads this shit. so, what i've decided to do, is start writing down some of the most incredible memories from my childhood.  this way, when something funny comes to mind, i can jot it down and have a growing library of hilarious, childhood stories, that will live on, via this digital archive. i'm switching things up. i'm not writing this for you. i'm writing this for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4771998912650894747-2008548162098538566?l=tessellatingwords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/feeds/2008548162098538566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4771998912650894747&amp;postID=2008548162098538566' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/2008548162098538566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/2008548162098538566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/2011/06/next-steps.html' title='Next Steps'/><author><name>Lynnette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17772263488355141189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SFCblPhceZI/AAAAAAAAANk/ncAkrsApJQI/S220/Photo+69.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6KrU6Ygy5Sg/Tf6EZjxV9VI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/BkBljMRDtEo/s72-c/44449823_ln79ye0K_c.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4771998912650894747.post-3780361449366504021</id><published>2009-12-30T10:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-30T12:47:09.368-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Computroning</title><content type='html'>The only way for people to truly relate to what I have to say and have been saying is for me to keep things honest and real.  I often struggle with the reality of who I really am and who people want me to be.  For the most part, I don't care about the perceptions or the clamoring chatter.  I care about my family and they are the only reason for the filter.  But, through this medium, I find that I can drop the filter and be free to talk openly and honestly about the reality of what my life is, has been and will become. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone asked me what I wanted to do, what would make me happy.  I want to talk with people, explore ideas, share, mentor, be creative be with creatives.  I want success, riches, fortune and no fame but rather acknowledgment for doing something truly great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want love, lust and passion.  I want laughter, companionship and honestly. I want fashion, music, art and culture. I want the world to be at my finger tips and I don't want to have to settle for one or the other.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't I have it all?  Does money buy happiness?  If it could buy me all the things I want, if it could provide me the lifestyle that allowed me to be and do all the things my heart longs for, then yes, it can buy me happiness.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be an art director.  I want to be a friend.  I want to be true.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4771998912650894747-3780361449366504021?l=tessellatingwords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/feeds/3780361449366504021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4771998912650894747&amp;postID=3780361449366504021' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/3780361449366504021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/3780361449366504021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/2009/12/computroning.html' title='Computroning'/><author><name>Lynnette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17772263488355141189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SFCblPhceZI/AAAAAAAAANk/ncAkrsApJQI/S220/Photo+69.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4771998912650894747.post-8742931556292957327</id><published>2009-04-15T10:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T10:31:07.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Looking for Change</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;"It doesn't interest me who you are and how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not look back."&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SeYZisx7LPI/AAAAAAAAAUs/LVNVITtx4xY/s1600-h/84307219.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SeYZisx7LPI/AAAAAAAAAUs/LVNVITtx4xY/s400/84307219.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324971693338995954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I have been living in NY for a total of 2+ years now and each of my experiences has been so unique and what is amazing to me, is to think of how much I've changed over the course of those years.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think of where I was in 2006 and I never imagined that I would be where I am today.  As I have maintained friends, made new ones and lost a few along the way, I have lived my life to the fullest.  Recently a dear friend of mine, made the most amazing life decision and accomplishment and moved away from the city.  It was a proud moment for me as a long-standing friend, but also a moment filled with loss and I knew that they would be moving away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Transition always presents such a conundrum, but I continue to welcome it.  Without it, I wouldn't be right here, at this very moment, writing this blog entry.  I sometimes try to imagine what my life would be like, had I stayed in Orlando.  I shiver at the thought that I'd be working a mundane job somewhere, making 11 bucks and hour and doing the same thing I had done my entire life --bored and lost. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NYC has made me feel alive.  I have genuinely realized the American Dream and I believe now, more than ever that &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;anyone&lt;/span&gt; can achieve &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;anything&lt;/span&gt; they dream is possible.  No one said it would be easy --they just said it was possible. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately, I've been feeling like its time for something new...time for a change.  I'm not sure what it will bring, but I'm &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;looking for a change&lt;/span&gt;.  I want to feel inspired, motivated and excited again.  The city has a way of draining the life out of its people, but I'm not giving up without a fight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm feeling the winds of change and welcoming it with open arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SeYZyyeX0EI/AAAAAAAAAU0/4p8PzXgBqbI/s1600-h/85580508.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SeYZyyeX0EI/AAAAAAAAAU0/4p8PzXgBqbI/s320/85580508.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324971969745506370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4771998912650894747-8742931556292957327?l=tessellatingwords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/feeds/8742931556292957327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4771998912650894747&amp;postID=8742931556292957327' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/8742931556292957327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/8742931556292957327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/2009/04/looking-for-change.html' title='Looking for Change'/><author><name>Lynnette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17772263488355141189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SFCblPhceZI/AAAAAAAAANk/ncAkrsApJQI/S220/Photo+69.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SeYZisx7LPI/AAAAAAAAAUs/LVNVITtx4xY/s72-c/84307219.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4771998912650894747.post-1562497259265059632</id><published>2008-12-29T13:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-29T13:59:56.095-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Flu Season</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SVlIUxeA0oI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/8LWE5FmTEj8/s1600-h/photo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SVlIUxeA0oI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/8LWE5FmTEj8/s400/photo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285335159409791618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother sent me this lovely picture via her iPhone.  I thought I'd share this with the world....Just in case you weren't already aware of this Health factoid.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4771998912650894747-1562497259265059632?l=tessellatingwords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/feeds/1562497259265059632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4771998912650894747&amp;postID=1562497259265059632' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/1562497259265059632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/1562497259265059632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/2008/12/flu-season.html' title='Flu Season'/><author><name>Lynnette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17772263488355141189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SFCblPhceZI/AAAAAAAAANk/ncAkrsApJQI/S220/Photo+69.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SVlIUxeA0oI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/8LWE5FmTEj8/s72-c/photo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4771998912650894747.post-5678448963609287930</id><published>2008-12-19T08:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-19T09:13:21.573-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Work Health Notice</title><content type='html'>You have to click on the image to view the full size image.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, our co-worker was running a fever and had every intention to come into the office.  Not only did I reply to his email, asking him kindly to not come in, but I proceeded to AIM my boss.  I think the conversation speaks for itself (literally).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here is my Health Notice to all those sick over-achievers out there:  if you are sick, Do NOT go to work!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SUvViMOc-oI/AAAAAAAAAUI/rTyHc0Rhse4/s1600-h/HealthNotice.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SUvViMOc-oI/AAAAAAAAAUI/rTyHc0Rhse4/s400/HealthNotice.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281549771396151938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4771998912650894747-5678448963609287930?l=tessellatingwords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/feeds/5678448963609287930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4771998912650894747&amp;postID=5678448963609287930' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/5678448963609287930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/5678448963609287930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/2008/12/work-health-notice.html' title='Work Health Notice'/><author><name>Lynnette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17772263488355141189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SFCblPhceZI/AAAAAAAAANk/ncAkrsApJQI/S220/Photo+69.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SUvViMOc-oI/AAAAAAAAAUI/rTyHc0Rhse4/s72-c/HealthNotice.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4771998912650894747.post-604176529648273388</id><published>2008-12-06T17:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T19:15:58.821-08:00</updated><title type='text'>CONTINUITY</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;Uninterrupted connection, succession, uninterrupted duration or continuation especially without &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;essential&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt; change.&lt;/center&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a project manager at an &lt;a href="http://siite.com/" target="_blank" class="text12pink"&gt;Interactive Design Agency&lt;/a&gt;, I'm always hearing about, talking about it and perhaps, even reminding people to maintain continuity in their designs.  I got to thinking about the meaning and began asking myself, "How does maintaining continuity in our lives, effect us?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While enjoying a nice nosh and a cup of joe with a close friend, I listened, as she divulged about a tumultuous relationship she had been dealing with.  She explained the history and how difficult it was becoming for her to move away from the lingering ties between them.  As I listened to the story, I kept hearing an underlying theme that seemed to existence throughout their relationship.  She was &lt;strong&gt;maintaining continuity&lt;/strong&gt; in her relationship and now  faced with the challenge of breaking away from the pattern. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do we &lt;strong&gt;exist&lt;/strong&gt; in these unbroken, consistent patterns because its easier than facing the occasional heartbreak?  Are we afraid to feel lost or without direction?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've heard people say, they are afraid of feeling, but I would be more afraid to not feel.  Regardless of what it may be, pain, joy, sadness, loss... I maintain that for now, the continuity in my life will be an unbroken pattern of &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;awareness&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/i&gt;.  So that I might never allow myself to be trapped in the fear of something new.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4771998912650894747-604176529648273388?l=tessellatingwords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/feeds/604176529648273388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4771998912650894747&amp;postID=604176529648273388' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/604176529648273388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/604176529648273388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/2008/12/continuity.html' title='CONTINUITY'/><author><name>Lynnette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17772263488355141189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SFCblPhceZI/AAAAAAAAANk/ncAkrsApJQI/S220/Photo+69.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4771998912650894747.post-7104053025065834342</id><published>2008-10-24T21:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T10:35:12.275-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When you least expect it.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SeYay70Ge6I/AAAAAAAAAVE/rSq7-MSHQ_A/s1600-h/85743460.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 138px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SeYay70Ge6I/AAAAAAAAAVE/rSq7-MSHQ_A/s200/85743460.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324973071764192162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found what I was looking for...when I wasn't looking and of course, the timing was off.  I think its safe to say that the feeling was mutual.  It's also safe to say that it was and still is a test of patience.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting what you want isn't always the easiest thing but its always worth it and I'm definitely willing to wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the mean time, I'll enjoy a nice slice of pumpkin pie, dinosaur soup and smile just knowing.  That's enough for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4771998912650894747-7104053025065834342?l=tessellatingwords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/feeds/7104053025065834342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4771998912650894747&amp;postID=7104053025065834342' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/7104053025065834342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/7104053025065834342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/2008/10/when-you-least-expect-it.html' title='When you least expect it.'/><author><name>Lynnette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17772263488355141189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SFCblPhceZI/AAAAAAAAANk/ncAkrsApJQI/S220/Photo+69.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SeYay70Ge6I/AAAAAAAAAVE/rSq7-MSHQ_A/s72-c/85743460.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4771998912650894747.post-81058424252110759</id><published>2008-09-01T20:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T22:13:04.728-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A foreshadowing hindsight</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;I feel bright when you stand near.  I know what I am when you are here.  My place becomes so clear.  - &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/lightsnoise " target="_blank" class="text12pink"&gt;The Lights&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose the &lt;i&gt;no regrets&lt;/i&gt; way of living goes hand in hand with the &lt;i&gt;lessons learned&lt;/i&gt; philosophy.  I myself, have done my best not to feel that regret should ever be a part of life's equation.  I suppose that every experience we have, good and bad, can ideally, leave us having learned something profound that makes us the wiser.  Yet, I don't think this is always the case.  In fact, I think often times, we find ourselves making the same mistakes... over and over again.  We just find new ways to make them.  Are there clues along the way that lead us to find these newly disguised mishaps or are we seeking them out...further perpetuating the cycle of regret?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a moment of Deja Vu that set me on a wild discovery of thoughts and emotions, I didn't even know I was capable of feeling.  I realized in that moment, that I was standing on the ledge, waiting to dive into another regret.  But this time it was different.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time &lt;strong&gt;a foreshadowing hindsight&lt;/strong&gt; set in and allowed me to see clearly.  Usually the red herring comes somewhere between the middle and the end.  This time, it was right there, staring me in the face, from day one.  This time, if I perpetuated the cycle of regret, it would be a willing and conscious decision and I would have absolutely no one or nothing to blame but myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there I was, faced with the choice to take the plunge or walk away.  I could see the signs and run or pretend that this time it would be different, maybe even normal.  The reality of it is, I know it won't be.  So I step back and take this opportunity to remember the  "lessons learned" and apply them.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hindsight only matters, if you are able to  recognize the foreshadow it becomes.  I was able to recognize it and walk away and I'm feeling lucky the &lt;i&gt;regret&lt;/i&gt; was there to provide me the &lt;i&gt;lesson learned.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4771998912650894747-81058424252110759?l=tessellatingwords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/feeds/81058424252110759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4771998912650894747&amp;postID=81058424252110759' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/81058424252110759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/81058424252110759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/2008/09/foreshadowing-hindsight.html' title='A foreshadowing hindsight'/><author><name>Lynnette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17772263488355141189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SFCblPhceZI/AAAAAAAAANk/ncAkrsApJQI/S220/Photo+69.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4771998912650894747.post-8661832777660868289</id><published>2008-08-04T20:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T20:41:31.381-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes it finds you...</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;"Tuck the moon into the ground, turn this bedroom upside down tonight...took my faith and I breathed it out, walked right through a cloud of flashing lights...bright lights."  - &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/ErinMcCarley/" target="_blank"&gt;Erin McCarley&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SKkRP7z2GaI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/xgOXBvq5Q6U/s1600-h/000_1400.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SKkRP7z2GaI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/xgOXBvq5Q6U/s200/000_1400.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235735007245769122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eight months have quickly come&lt;/strong&gt; and gone and I find myself looking back and remembering how it all began.  I look back at Christmas of 2007 and I remember the immense pain and loss I felt, as I set out to start a new journey in New York City.  I knew nothing would ever be the same and yet I held onto the hope that it would.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a walk down to the water today (East River) and took in the captivating view....yet again.  I'm convinced it will never get old.  There is something so powerful about sitting at the edge of the river, looking out into the the world's greatest, concrete menagerie. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SKkPgx4GSPI/AAAAAAAAAQI/5SuIhg15hwo/s1600-h/licPier.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SKkPgx4GSPI/AAAAAAAAAQI/5SuIhg15hwo/s200/licPier.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235733097613773042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Millions of people, unleashed and held prisoner to the hopes, aspirations and dreams, that they're unwilling to relent. I am, after all, just one out of 1.6 million people living in this great rising metropolis and fully aware that I too, have been captured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do believe that we can set out to make our dreams happen.  I also believe, that sometimes, it finds you.  For a year of my life, I believed that I had set out to fulfill the desires of my heart in NYC...and what I learned, was that the desires, I never knew I had, found me.  I wound up working in a new industry, I never knew I loved.  I wound up meeting new people, I never knew I was missing.  I would up making new relationships...I never knew I longed for.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SKkT1gmUtPI/AAAAAAAAAQo/eRtM32a77KA/s1600-h/friends.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SKkT1gmUtPI/AAAAAAAAAQo/eRtM32a77KA/s400/friends.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235737851799581938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the truth is, there are absolutely remnants of my yesterdays, that linger in my heart, in my mind and in the depths of my soul.  They are the ghosts of who I was, where I've been, and will always be a part of who I've become.  I will never watch Saturday Night Live and not remember the countless nights I spent laughing til' I was nearly in tears with my best...I'll never &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SKkU5VD-GlI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/SJQwhyNLdDI/s1600-h/n921946_39493260_1790.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SKkU5VD-GlI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/SJQwhyNLdDI/s200/n921946_39493260_1790.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235739016933808722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;watch a Red Sox game or enjoy a bowl of real (and I mean REAL) chowdah and not reminisce about a life I thought was mine.  I'll never listen to the waves or feel the blades of grass beneath my feet and not remember the Florida I grew to love and eventually hate.  And...I'll never come home to Long Island City and forget what it was supposed to be.  I will however, thank God every single day, for what it has become and what it holds.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, while I long to, "travel through a republic (Cambridge) a town (Brookline), and a city (Boston)*," I know that when it happens, &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SKkWpmnWEqI/AAAAAAAAARY/AAsGzyf13G0/s1600-h/n921946_39492962_3224.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SKkWpmnWEqI/AAAAAAAAARY/AAsGzyf13G0/s200/n921946_39492962_3224.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235740945790931618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;it will be from a new perspective, with a new heart and new life...that will, indeed be mine.  It won't be the life I thought I wanted...but nonetheless, a life I now know, I want someday.  I guess sometimes...it finds you.  I realize that when it does, you cannot let it go.  Maybe it doesn't come with the person, place, shape or form, that you originally hoped for...but the core of the dream remains the same.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SKkXAfoq-vI/AAAAAAAAARo/yjODxUs_xhY/s1600-h/n921946_39492963_3533.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SKkXAfoq-vI/AAAAAAAAARo/yjODxUs_xhY/s320/n921946_39492963_3533.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235741339054439154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;*excerpt by Michael Holley, author or &lt;i&gt;Red Sox Rule &lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4771998912650894747-8661832777660868289?l=tessellatingwords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/feeds/8661832777660868289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4771998912650894747&amp;postID=8661832777660868289' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/8661832777660868289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/8661832777660868289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/2008/08/sometimes-it-finds-you.html' title='Sometimes it finds you...'/><author><name>Lynnette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17772263488355141189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SFCblPhceZI/AAAAAAAAANk/ncAkrsApJQI/S220/Photo+69.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SKkRP7z2GaI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/xgOXBvq5Q6U/s72-c/000_1400.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4771998912650894747.post-3126847355022342657</id><published>2008-07-12T08:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T23:33:28.726-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You're so vain, you probably think this blog is about you.</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;i&gt;Everything in life has its purpose, find its reason.&lt;/i&gt; -Ziggy Marley&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;It suddenly dawned on me that &lt;/b&gt;there may be people who will discover this blog and presume its about them.  Well, to those people, you could not be more incorrect.  Its about life, my life and my experiences and serves only as an outlet for myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sit here, writing again and thinking about the where I've been, where I'm going and who I hope to be when I get there, I cannot help but ask myself If I'm happy. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SHmhA9cHK4I/AAAAAAAAAPw/0avBQxv3eLI/s1600-h/99695624_1e25b01102.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SHmhA9cHK4I/AAAAAAAAAPw/0avBQxv3eLI/s200/99695624_1e25b01102.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222382280777345922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  I know I feel happy, but am I truly satisfied?  Are we ever really satisfied or do our achievements leave us wanting more from life and more from ourselves?  As August looms and I think about the passing year, I cannot help but wonder if the progress I'm making in my life is sinking in.  I think about that classic flick called "Groundhog Day" and I find myself relating.  Every day, I do the same thing, over and over again.  But does it mean anything?  And if so, what?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;6:00 am&lt;/b&gt; - Wake up.  Brew coffee.  Brush Teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;6:30 am&lt;/b&gt; - Walk Fenway (My adorable Boston Terrier pup).  Avoid over-zealous, morning talkers in an attempt to not be late to work...again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;7:00&lt;/b&gt; am - Shower. Fix Hair.  Get dressed. Make-up optional.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;7:45&lt;/b&gt; am - Attempt to eat breakfast.  This usually equates to a bowl of Kashi w/Soy milk, oatmeal with blueberries or a piece of fruit from the stand on Vernon and 49th...if I'm lucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;8:30&lt;/b&gt; am - Walk to the Subway&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;9:00, 9:10, 9:27, 9:36 am&lt;/b&gt; - Work. *The various times reflect the mystery that is the subway system in NYC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;10:00 am&lt;/b&gt; - Make second cup of coffee at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;10am - 3pm&lt;/b&gt; - Fast-paced blur of emails, client calls and the occasional psychotic laugh fest amongst my co-workers and myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;3 pm&lt;/b&gt; - Lunch.  I rotate between Guy &amp; Gallard, Wild Greens, CPK, or iced water.  Depending on how fat I feel that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;4-6pm&lt;/b&gt; - More fast-paced blurs of emails, client calls, project deadlines and even more psychotic laughter amongst my co-workers and myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;6 pm&lt;/b&gt; - Get on Subway to head home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;6:30-7:30 pm&lt;/b&gt; - Finally home.  Play with Fenway.  Change out of work clothes.  Walk Fenway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;8pm &lt;/b&gt; - Make Dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;9-10 pm &lt;/b&gt; - Eat dinner.  Clean up the kitchen  Watch meaningless, yet entertaining reality television.  Fall asleep mid-episode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;12 am &lt;/b&gt; - Wake up and realize I've fallen asleep.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;12:05 am&lt;/b&gt; - Turn off the tele.  Fall back asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where do we find purpose in our day in and day out? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find myself feeling so lucky everyday as I think about everything I have around me and yet, I cannot tame that feeling of wanting more.  I cannot stop feeling unsatisfied with what I have achieved.  I find myself longing for something even greater than my mind can grasp.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SHmhjuXKDoI/AAAAAAAAAP4/DqTQ8PLvQc0/s1600-h/movement.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SHmhjuXKDoI/AAAAAAAAAP4/DqTQ8PLvQc0/s200/movement.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222382878025453186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  How can someone who has an amazing job that makes them happy, a stunning apartment, a loving family, a breathtaking view and so much more still be left desiring more?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can we really, ever, feel satisfied with life or will we always find ourselves longing, desiring, relentlessly wanting more from life...never truly feeling complete?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4771998912650894747-3126847355022342657?l=tessellatingwords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/feeds/3126847355022342657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4771998912650894747&amp;postID=3126847355022342657' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/3126847355022342657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/3126847355022342657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/2008/07/youre-so-vain-you-probably-think-this.html' title='You&apos;re so vain, you probably think this blog is about you.'/><author><name>Lynnette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17772263488355141189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SFCblPhceZI/AAAAAAAAANk/ncAkrsApJQI/S220/Photo+69.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SHmhA9cHK4I/AAAAAAAAAPw/0avBQxv3eLI/s72-c/99695624_1e25b01102.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4771998912650894747.post-7759176456844267418</id><published>2008-06-25T21:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-26T20:03:58.371-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ties that Bind</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;" We're so far from where we were, but there's no reason for giving up.  All this stuff is just bad luck.  So please don't lose your confidence in me."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SGRRswiLfeI/AAAAAAAAAOo/oUoglS14xz0/s1600-h/sb10069175i-001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SGRRswiLfeI/AAAAAAAAAOo/oUoglS14xz0/s200/sb10069175i-001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216384097786232290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;In life we discover&lt;/b&gt; people and build relationships that we believe will last a lifetime.  We develop friendships so true and honest, that our minds cannot foresee them ever ending.  I recall, even now, conversations I had with my best friend growing up in elementary school and middle school.  Lindsay and I would talk about graduating high school and moving into an apartment together.  We wanted to be roommates through college. We would talk about growing older and getting married.  We had planned out our entire lives as best friends to the point where we believed our own children would grow up to friends just the way we were.  We were the manifestation of the movie &lt;i&gt;Beaches.&lt;/i&gt;  The reality of it, is that Lindsay and I never even made past high school.  By the time I was a Sophomore in high school, she and I didn't even talk.  How is it that the ties that bind a friendship, something that seems so real and so genuine, can cease to exist in an instant?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SGRQ1mzBDqI/AAAAAAAAAOg/Ck1VDvTCMzQ/s1600-h/200297992-001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SGRQ1mzBDqI/AAAAAAAAAOg/Ck1VDvTCMzQ/s200/200297992-001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216383150279691938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who initiates the death?  I suppose some people move away and life gets the best of their friendships.  I suppose there are those who decide  to break away, in attempt to turn their lives around....I suppose they initiate the death.  I hope I never find myself forgetting or losing the true friendships I've been fortunate enough to find.  I never want to turn my back on those who invested their lives in me.  I hope I can continue to share my life and my joy with those people, and also, that they can share their successes and joys in life with me.    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SGRSt4jrV2I/AAAAAAAAAOw/wFel7rXxHqA/s1600-h/l_07b9c9436acf5845e09b5b0a2613e7dc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SGRSt4jrV2I/AAAAAAAAAOw/wFel7rXxHqA/s200/l_07b9c9436acf5845e09b5b0a2613e7dc.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216385216631494498" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life's to short to be spent giving up on people or giving up on people and friendships.  Its better spent mending, building and sharing love, and laughter with people who are connected to you.  Don't take friendship for granted or the people who have been a friend to you because there is nothing truer, or more amazing than genuine, sincere, and unconditional friendship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SGRVk6WImRI/AAAAAAAAAO4/iN7ej5ORZio/s1600-h/72934818.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SGRVk6WImRI/AAAAAAAAAO4/iN7ej5ORZio/s200/72934818.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216388361027623186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4771998912650894747-7759176456844267418?l=tessellatingwords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/feeds/7759176456844267418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4771998912650894747&amp;postID=7759176456844267418' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/7759176456844267418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/7759176456844267418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/2008/06/ties-that-bind.html' title='The Ties that Bind'/><author><name>Lynnette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17772263488355141189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SFCblPhceZI/AAAAAAAAANk/ncAkrsApJQI/S220/Photo+69.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SGRRswiLfeI/AAAAAAAAAOo/oUoglS14xz0/s72-c/sb10069175i-001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4771998912650894747.post-8733765336344102869</id><published>2008-06-23T16:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-27T20:12:46.379-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tonight, it seems like ages ago...</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;"Tension is to be loved.  It is like a passing note...to a beautiful chord."&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SGA466hrXiI/AAAAAAAAAOA/ke3x9DBktMU/s1600-h/2484042029_024a71795e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SGA466hrXiI/AAAAAAAAAOA/ke3x9DBktMU/s200/2484042029_024a71795e.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215230953289113122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;New York City.&lt;/b&gt; One of the most populated cities in the States and yet it has a reputation for being one of the loneliest places in the world.  Or is it?  I think I learned that this city isn’t lonely—in fact I believe its filled with a million souls that long for something more.  During my first NY tryst, I lived in an apartment alone.  The first week was exciting.  The second was boring.  The third was just sad.  From there on out I learned to fill my life with meaningless activities until I met people that were worthy of investment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;About one month into my stay, it hit me on a Sunday morning that my new roommate was settled in and that we had now been living together for about a week.  It dawned on me that I had avoided her to no avail because I didn’t think she was the type of person I wanted to be friends with.  What I failed to notice was that I wasn’t alone anymore because I was by myself.  I was alone because I didn’t know the first thing about living in love.  I walked past my living room, past my couch and perched upon the window ledge of my living room.  It was at this moment, as I sat there staring out at the financial district of NY that, I had grown very fond of my roommate.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SGU3jUzAFjI/AAAAAAAAAPA/3CfJr-eLzUk/s1600-h/LongIslandGantryCrane1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SGU3jUzAFjI/AAAAAAAAAPA/3CfJr-eLzUk/s200/LongIslandGantryCrane1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216636823396161074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn’t because we were together all the time in fact, we didn’t even hang out that often.  It was the fact that there was a living, breathing human being fast asleep on my couch that made set my soul at ease.  It was the fact that she and I were more alike that I ever realized.  It was the fact that she opened her heart and her life to me with no hesitation and I was better for having her in my life.  It was then, on that window ledge, overlooking the city,  that I learned about loneliness, love and gained a tiny minuscule of knowledge about life.  It isn’t the place that grows lonely or weary—it’s something inside.  &lt;br /&gt;You can be surrounded by a million people and I was.  Tonight, it seems like ages ago, but I was alone because I didn't know how to love.  I could not feed my soul with laughter, conversation, or love because I didn't know how.  I grew weary and I grew lonely. Now I grow in love.  I grow more in love with life and the beauty that surrounds each day.  The person I was exists only in those moments captured by my memories.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4771998912650894747-8733765336344102869?l=tessellatingwords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/feeds/8733765336344102869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4771998912650894747&amp;postID=8733765336344102869' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/8733765336344102869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/8733765336344102869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/2008/06/tension-is-to-be-loved.html' title='Tonight, it seems like ages ago...'/><author><name>Lynnette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17772263488355141189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SFCblPhceZI/AAAAAAAAANk/ncAkrsApJQI/S220/Photo+69.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SGA466hrXiI/AAAAAAAAAOA/ke3x9DBktMU/s72-c/2484042029_024a71795e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4771998912650894747.post-5726892494675520337</id><published>2008-06-16T19:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-19T09:55:39.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Captivating City</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;"You trusted your instincts, but they turned out to be wrong. It won't happen again."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;The good news is,&lt;/b&gt; sometimes our instincts don't lead us astray.  Sometimes, they lead us exactly where we want to be. In the summer of 2006, I followed my then, best-friend to NYC.  It was the best decision I ever made.  The time I spent in NY taught me a lot about life, opportunity and people.  I learned that the saying, "the opportunities are endless," really had truth to it.  I learned that I wasn't the person I always thought I was.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SHbaHG-xfyI/AAAAAAAAAPI/ueMKxhHfP10/s1600-h/nightCity.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SHbaHG-xfyI/AAAAAAAAAPI/ueMKxhHfP10/s200/nightCity.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221600633650511650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;           I was stronger, more driven and aware than I ever gave myself credit for.  I learned that the people who were supposed to be on my side, were in fact the enemy.  But in the end, I took my dignity and my lessons learned away from it all.  This past year,  I have had the wonderful fortune of moving back to the greatest city - New York.  I was chosen for the best starter job any single, young "new yorker" transplant could hope for.  Things aren't always perfect, but that's what makes us human.  But even through the imperfections, I've found a joy unlike any other. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SHbat1E5nbI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/BWW7rRQy_fI/s1600-h/meter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SHbat1E5nbI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/BWW7rRQy_fI/s200/meter.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221601298859269554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're all bound to make mistakes.  It's inevitable.  Yet, I find that  every passing day is a chance for me to learn from my previous experiences and to make new choices that will hopefully produce better results.  They say if you can make it through your first year in NY, you'll never look back.  I guess many don't ever make it.   For a year of my life, I planned, I followed my dream, I worked, so I could be right where I'm at, lying here in my room, with my laptop propped up against me.  I look out at my view and I see the East River, the UN building, the continuous movement of the FDR and I think, "What did I do to deserve all this?"  I guess I don't deserve it... I guess I achieved it.  Every thing that I worked for came to fruition. Everyone that stood by me, is a part of this.  Not a day goes by that I don't think of the people who supported my decision to be here.  They will always be a part of my happiness.  They will always be in my heart...and I will always be grateful for their lives.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4771998912650894747-5726892494675520337?l=tessellatingwords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/feeds/5726892494675520337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4771998912650894747&amp;postID=5726892494675520337' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/5726892494675520337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/5726892494675520337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/2008/06/you-trusted-your-instincts-but-they.html' title='The Captivating City'/><author><name>Lynnette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17772263488355141189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SFCblPhceZI/AAAAAAAAANk/ncAkrsApJQI/S220/Photo+69.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SHbaHG-xfyI/AAAAAAAAAPI/ueMKxhHfP10/s72-c/nightCity.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4771998912650894747.post-6402241645604248436</id><published>2008-06-11T21:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T21:18:13.388-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Unrelenting Soul</title><content type='html'>Relentlessly, she pressed on. Every part that made her whole, was unwilling to stop.  Despite the occasional disturbing thought of inadequacy or doubt in her abilities, she refused to be held down.  To believe in her own self, was to fight.  To fight against herself, within herself, and to fight for herself. Standing still, she turned to look back from the road she'd traveled. The vision of life's bends, steps backward, forward, obstacles and walls, that had lead to the very place where she stood now.  It invited the rain that fell upon her face. The earth where she stood firmly, turned to clay, as the heart-sized oceans trickled down her cheek. Standing upon the clay, she turned back to face the continuing path before her.  Unwilling to surrender to impulse and passion, to weakness and defeat, she focused her eyes on the lasting light of truth and hope before her.  She did not have to rise above herself in order to dream of being strong or complete. She simple had to be inspired and she was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-L.S.B.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There is a breath of God in every man, a force lying deeper than the stratum of will, and which may be stirred to become an aspiration strong enough to give direction and even to run counter to all winds."--Abraham Heschel&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4771998912650894747-6402241645604248436?l=tessellatingwords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/feeds/6402241645604248436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4771998912650894747&amp;postID=6402241645604248436' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/6402241645604248436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/6402241645604248436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/2008/06/unrelenting-soul.html' title='The Unrelenting Soul'/><author><name>Lynnette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17772263488355141189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SFCblPhceZI/AAAAAAAAANk/ncAkrsApJQI/S220/Photo+69.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4771998912650894747.post-3570240103938006139</id><published>2008-06-11T21:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T17:23:10.272-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LIFE</title><content type='html'>"I understand that during the course of my life I will be required to make many decisions, such as where I want to live, whom I want to live with, where I work, how much fun I have, and how I spend my money and time, including how much time I spend waiting for things to get better and people to change, and whom I choose to love. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand that many events that occur will be out of my hands, and that there are inherent dangers and risks in all decisions I make. Life and people have no obligation whatsoever to live up to my expectations; I have no obligation to live up the expectations of anybody else. Life is a high-risk sport, and I may become injured along the way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I agree that all the decisions I make are mine and mine alone, including how I choose to handle the events that are beyond my control. I hereby forfeit my right to recourse as a victim, including my rights to blame, complain, and whine or hold someone else responsible for the path I choose to take. I am responsible for my participation–or lack of it–in life. And I take complete responsibility for the outcomes and consequences of all decisions I make, understanding that ultimately it is my choice whether I become happy, joyous, and free or stay miserable and trapped. " - Anonymous&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4771998912650894747-3570240103938006139?l=tessellatingwords.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/feeds/3570240103938006139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4771998912650894747&amp;postID=3570240103938006139' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/3570240103938006139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4771998912650894747/posts/default/3570240103938006139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tessellatingwords.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-understand-that-during-course-of-my.html' title='LIFE'/><author><name>Lynnette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17772263488355141189</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_iGlj-aSOSNQ/SFCblPhceZI/AAAAAAAAANk/ncAkrsApJQI/S220/Photo+69.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
