<?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-5644235853194790524</id><updated>2012-02-06T00:39:01.165-08:00</updated><category term='Stardust Corpse Bride'/><title type='text'>Thoughts to Pass The Time</title><subtitle type='html'>Requires less work than Knitting!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>207</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-3627424660385759425</id><published>2012-02-06T00:12:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-06T00:39:01.202-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dr. Eleazar</title><content type='html'>When I was first given an MRI in Gallatin, the resident Nuerologist said that my scan was normal, but Dr. Eleazar disagreed and I was sent via ambulance to Vanderbilt, where at night little nurses came in and asked if they could sneak a peek at my baby through the U/S Machine, ok they didn't ask, but I was still aware but pretended to not be because they were students and I wanted to help. it was sucha small thing. I ended upsigning away to be included in several studies that used tissue and fluid from my brain biopsy and spinal fluid from Lumbar Punctures. The strangest request was from a Pyschologist, who asked my permission to publish a story about me in an article he was writting. I do not even know what it was about. But, I was reviewing several points of interest in my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;I decided to see a psychologist after I fiished my time with therapists who said I was fine, but clearly, I wasn't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;Li&gt;On my first visit to Dr. Eleazar he thanked me for chosing him and asked if I even knew who he was. I said "The good doctor" I recall he even visited me in Vanderbilt, but at the time I just assumed that he was part of the assigned Nuerologists, who, when one guy left, I started crying and told them that I was sorry for their loss, I thought he had died. lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;He gave me a piece of paper and asked me to fold it. I was confused as to what this would ascertain, but he also took my weight and told me that I was not even close to being overweight when I asked if he could write me a perscription for weight loss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Here is the kicker! He asked me to remember three things and I told him what they were before he said them. Pink, Piano and Kentucky. during my "talks" with people in the hospital I was asked things I still cannot think of (like the date or the President - but I listed them in succession from George Washington in order according to my mother, strange) Anyway he had asked me to remember three things then and never asked for them again. He still hasn't. So, I took liberties to blurt them out then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; I have strong memories of his office on Main street in Gallatin, and his receptionist, but Brandall told me that my medical bills were over 500 thousand dollars, so I decided if I was going to be accountable I needed to stop incurring debt.&lt;br /&gt;that Memory Shifted as I was looking at pictures made by my children for a mothers day years ago. I remembered the time I visited hmmmmm, he worked on cars, she had a Volvo SW and theit name started with W. And she had a dughter in cookeville. Anyway, I told them that I was really fond of their interior decor. On the way home Brandall (who is quite spartan in his decor) warned me that he would not allow such over decoration. Oh! perish the thought. I just liked it for them. I believe Lena stayed there one time and fell down a step, I recall odd things even still.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-3627424660385759425?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/3627424660385759425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=3627424660385759425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/3627424660385759425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/3627424660385759425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2012/02/dr-eleazar.html' title='Dr. Eleazar'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-66999778009075673</id><published>2012-02-01T10:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-01T10:59:47.325-08:00</updated><title type='text'>realize this!</title><content type='html'>I have been trying to stay as busy as possible so that I wouldn't have time to realize this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After allowing myself to think about it, it changes nothing, so fooey!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized that I loved Brandall but I could not love him because of what he did, I could no sooner love satan as I thought was possible. Now I know that forgiveness has limits. love does not overcome betrayal in every case. I was wrong about other things, too. I did not think that I could forgive the people that tortured and killed the savior. On my cell phone I gave my exhusband the name of Judas Iscariot, but my children kept asking about it, soI stopped doing that. It isn't really as fitting as I thought. I can forgive Judas, but I cannot forgive Brandall. He tried to ruin something that cannot be replaced, Judasonly ruined something that was supposed to be ruined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought maybe I could forgive him and return to what was, because I have tried so hard to recreate it, but cannot, My love is not to be duplicated, it is totally different, so much that I eve thought that it might not be love yet, because I knew the strong feeling I get about Nick is only Hate, but I am still learning and there is much wisdom to not doing what comes naturally or first, but wait and see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Worst of all, I realized that Brandall was somehow right, I did love someone else vicariously, not instead of him though. That was why I chose him I see it now. I honestly do not know what to call it, but I do not make all of my choices as I had thought I do. but, I will be responsible even if I do not yet understand a whole lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try even now, not to admit it even just to myself, in secret, but there it is, I'll not dwell on it after admitting it though, but there has always been something else that I was looking for, and I had even been warned, or foreshadowingly told to not fall for most, but hold out for the whole. if I had been as happy as I thought I was I would not be in this situation. it has been a blessing, a glimpse into "but what if". I got everything I thought I needed, as I always do but was shown that my choice, when I could rightfully make it was what I have now. So, I'll stop blaming Nicholas for taking advantage of a win situation for him, he took a risk, that must always be done to achieve greater. Crud, am I referring to myself as a prize? bah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;regardless, realizing things were one way when I always though they were truly another changes nothing, but my resolve. I need to go find a crochet hook, now that I've taken the time to realize all of this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-66999778009075673?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/66999778009075673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=66999778009075673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/66999778009075673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/66999778009075673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2012/02/realize-this.html' title='realize this!'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-1434942323316779907</id><published>2011-11-13T16:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-13T16:42:18.206-08:00</updated><title type='text'>incorruptible</title><content type='html'>That seemed to be the word of the day. It started out by my kids explaining that I couldn't stop them from "thinking" about Pokemon, just because they couldn't play or talk about it. This was because I declared Sunday a "pokemon free day". But, they said that bysaying not to say it, I had to tell them what not to say, so I said it. "Ooooooh!, Mom said a bad word!" I did again whe i was trying to explain seeking diligently to them. I thought searching in your room for something was alot like it, you don't just peek. I liked that to our scriptures and tried to show them what "Just going through the motions" was like in reading our scriptures, then I showed them how to seek diligently, but they didn't get it, until I explained it in terms of looking for a Pokemon card they lost. Bingo! I saw their faces light up in understanding! But, then though I wanted to explain how impossible it was to even go a day without even mentioning Pokemon, though my intention was good. I said the"&lt;br /&gt;P word". They were "Incorruptible"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next we talked about King Louis and how he was taken to another country and though they couldn't kill him,  they saught to corrupt his sense of morality by introducing things into his lifestyle. But, it was futile. He explained that he was born to be a king and so withstood their attempts at flattering away his morality with laciviousness He was "incorruptible".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being Sunday, in my church class the topic was the Millenium. You can likely figure it out if you are not familiar with the term. It is one given to "mil" or "a thousand years" immediately following the second comming (return) of Jesus Christ. After a scripture about the destruction of that great and terrible day, one lady stated that the moral of that scripture reference is to not be corruptible. This forcefully effected me. But, among the profound things that came to mind the teacher said one think that interrupted my thoughts and it required full attention (not because it is of any consequence) because it might yeild some good answers. She asked "So, if we allknow the Earth is going to burn in a fire. Well, how is it going to be started." I really liked most of the answers, but one I remember was of a woman saying that someone probably just gives the scouts some matches!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I do remember in another class someone talking about the things that we must have to make sure we suceed or I think "incorruptible" I need to go look up that scripture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 Whereby are given unto us exceeding great and precious promises: that by these ye might be partakers of the divine dnature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world through lust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 5 And beside this, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 6 And to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 7 And to godliness brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness charity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 8 For if these things be in you, and abound, they make you that ye shall neither be barren nor cunfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 9 But he that lacketh these things is blind, and cannot see afar off, and hath forgotten that he was purged from his old sins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 10 Wherefore the rather, brethren, give diligence to make your calling and election sure: for if ye do these things, ye shall never fall:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There. that's enough! I just thought a strange thought about this, I considered that we were given this little piece of information to make life a "sure thing". I have always been willing to put in alot of effort especially if the promise was sure. I think understanding thios little piece of information will make a profound difference in how I live my life. it actually makes me double think how I've spent my time thus far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something is to be said about being in the right place at the right time. I think how such things mean nothing to those who choose to be and do something else with their time. I want to wrrite a story about The Second coming, a sort of "how-to" an attempt to make it less a horrible day and more of a great day. Today was the Primary Program, and that is where the little children are all to display their brainwashing publically. Comments are always made about how moving or sweet it was to have little timmy tell how he knows that he is a Child of God. And it would be but, I was mostly interested to know whast they were actually teaching my kids. Lena came to class with me once and then asked why they still teach the same things to grown ups? Don't they know it all by then? lol. repetition. repetition. repetition.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-1434942323316779907?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/1434942323316779907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=1434942323316779907' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1434942323316779907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1434942323316779907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2011/11/incorruptible.html' title='incorruptible'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-2268170533769629552</id><published>2011-11-11T21:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-11T21:54:23.296-08:00</updated><title type='text'>perspective?</title><content type='html'>nothing changed from now and earlier today, but &lt;br /&gt;I had decided that I was being silly and that everything was wonderful here to now I am as angry with Nick as I ever could possibly be. I cannot stand him. So what is my deal? My observation startled me. I thought it was my obsession with being loved that needed to be reevaluated. I couldn't think of a reason to need to be attractive besides finding a mate, and I tried to be ugly and unkepmt, to exteme, but it didn't phase Nick, and I thought it must be love, to decide to love someone regardless of how they appeared, and I did look nice when we met. But a thought that really resonated was that it doesn't matter who can be the ugliest. I had always thought that if my ugliest was prettier than others then it would gain me some sort of preference, but I realized it was a time old thing to try to look pretty because people want to know how much potential you have an it is easier to assess by looking appealing... or as mom taught me, looking clean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My conclusion is that My relationship with Nick has nothing nor ever had anything to do with attraction. I do not understand why that is important either, but I do know that attraction is typically called love. I was out to prove that notion wrong, but ended up poving to myself how correct it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I defined love to be the power to overcome. Attrraction is what causes love to form. For me and Nick, it was my will to have a family, which I do have, now what? Absolutely nothing. And it has been misunderstood that I do not appreciate my family because I do not love Nick, but that is untrue. the only reason I am curently with Nick is to keep my family together. Mentally, I believed that my thoughts were dominant. I could feel a certain way, if it made sense, by doing it. I mentally thought that Nick was a better choice fo me, but I am still very much attracted to Brandall, and though it seems mentally wrong and I can think all of the ways it is worse, I fear that if I didn't believe that I could find a resolution out there, somewhere, I'd throw caution to the wind and put all of my eggs back in that fragile basket, come what may. but, I do believe that I will find a ballance. I will find a relationship that feels right and mentally seems right. I will find my peace. That is what I desire. I was busy desiring to be attracted to Nick and happy with the life that I'm living because it really does make sense.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-2268170533769629552?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/2268170533769629552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=2268170533769629552' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/2268170533769629552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/2268170533769629552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2011/11/perspective.html' title='perspective?'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-1491428557033844481</id><published>2011-11-06T06:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-06T07:01:46.334-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This or that?</title><content type='html'>I suppose I ought to be happy to find myself in this dilemma of which thought to expound upon, my head is swarming with them, but in order to be a master of something i must focus down to one idea and make it my purpose for a while. I can actually explore tons of other significant thoughts inside of a larger theme.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) The boy who wouldn't be a man.&lt;br /&gt;2) The School teacher and her conflicts&lt;br /&gt;3) The annonymous genie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've narrowed it down alot. I ought to apply guidelines and then see what naturally scores highest. Not being able to perform my music has lessened my need to perform none, and I doubt that cutting out the number of thoughts that divide my attention will only focus my intensity, like a magnifying glass does the sunlight. The power doesn't change, lol here came a thought to save the day! it is niether lost nor destroyed, but is transformed. Now, my thoughts would please Cleon Skousen. Who actually pinched my sister-in-law's butt, how I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While derailed, I watched or rather rewatched "the notebook" again, I was amazed at how different I am it is noticable when I do the same things I did while I supposed that I was fine. There were so many obvious things that I failed to notice. I wonder if that is like being a child. They are happier because they just do not process things they don't want to. I have similarly heard people going on TV and Periodical fasting and how much better they feel not being bombarded by the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I need to go rescue the babies, it seems this is the most common ending to my rants or, escuse me, thoughts, but such is my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-1491428557033844481?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/1491428557033844481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=1491428557033844481' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1491428557033844481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1491428557033844481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2011/11/this-or-that.html' title='This or that?'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-8313684533816220224</id><published>2011-10-22T09:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-22T09:27:04.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Saying what you mean.</title><content type='html'>I noticed how often people, myself included, fail at communicating because we do not say what we mean, which is a failue to communicate. It is most fustrating because it makes perfect sense to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also really admire how others seem to know the secrets of saying what they mean to the point that the see it as an art to say one thing and mean another. I often ead things that are technically nice but, have a venomous intent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the best I can tell: each word is used to represent a feeling like this: pride. but, what it means to you is probably not what it means to me, so I string a whole lot of theseords together in hopes to lead the reader to my feeling, I usually fail, and though it seems that words would be easier than music, I have greater sucess with music. I remember meeting Brandall and being so intensely impressed with his ability to use words, then I heard that Daniel Bedinfield's song "I have a way with words" and about that time twitter was invented so I thought that I'd try to condense my words to 140 characters, but I failed. I think it must be something about fisthad experinces being better historical records. I thought Brandall ought to be a History instructor, though he prrobably never will. oh well. I am going to try to play a new game with word though. limit myself to one and see if I can express myself. I think artists can say or express themselves through a single representation, so I might be able, with practice to do that. If you think you can or think you can't you're right!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;confusion, no&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;need, good&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;comfort, better&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;relief, best&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, now I see how haiku came about, though I'm porobably wrong. Start over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-8313684533816220224?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/8313684533816220224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=8313684533816220224' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8313684533816220224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8313684533816220224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2011/10/saying-what-you-mean.html' title='Saying what you mean.'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-4151141510928361607</id><published>2011-10-17T23:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-17T23:14:49.702-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What to do while waiting?</title><content type='html'>Man, these downloads take too much time. Ok, that was a figure of speech. Time is money and I'd be spending alot per hour if I was charged. in all. it's a good trade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was just thinking about how wonderful everyone in my family is and how I really do not belong. Now that everyone, but Lacy who manages a coolness of her own, is married happily, I belong even less. They are all of such high quality, but I'm like not even worthy to be flushed down their toilets, but they acknowledge me? Go figure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway I was just thinking alot about that while I was waiting for my downloads to finish. Is there anything that I could do to be respectable to them? I just fail at everything. Oooop! I used the Everything word! it is not literally true. I am just pittying myself. It would be impossible to do everything wrong or everything right. But, I'd prefer to do more right than wrong. I've done a bang up job of showing them what not to do. Maybe I deserved to be divorced or hospitalized. Maybe it was the price for being able to be a sibling and daughter of such fine beings as are included in  my family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-4151141510928361607?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/4151141510928361607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=4151141510928361607' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/4151141510928361607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/4151141510928361607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2011/10/what-to-do-while-waiting.html' title='What to do while waiting?'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-7602721547947627547</id><published>2011-10-15T21:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-15T22:02:02.701-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my most current thought is about differences in people</title><content type='html'>We talk alot about love and what makes us like another person and I have even been taught that we need to be whom we love or do the things that we love and the one we will love will be doing them, too. But situations caused me to pause to think about what makes people behave differently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is at times alluring because of the suprise or what is unknown and thus unexpected. I like the song "Heaven help my Heart" from Chess the musical because it laments the eventual time in every relationship when we loose that mysticism and become known and understood, "Suddenly, I've run out of secrets. Suddenly, I'm not always on his mind." But, the thought that still fills my mind in attempt to understand things like faith and anger is how differently people place the role of religio in their lives. My sister and I are alot alike, and yet, I place religion in the centeer of my life, not out of need initially, but I dare not contemplate the center not holding (c/o Conrad). Whereas, She never centralized the same teachings, thoug she lived them just the same, as she learned more she didn't need to cross-check each thought ith her belief system, in fact, her facts grew to the point where she sorta backwards to me, used them to cross out religion as am unneeded crutch. Some Nice ladies tried to teach me what they believed about a saying in proverbs that if you raise up a hild a certain way he will not leave it. Now, I do not claim to correct a teaching from their good book, and it is something many parents cling to. I will suggest that It is a bit of a catchall, it is wasting your time and wory for you, so you may focus energy elsewhere and not worry about children if your part has been done. I think more can and should be done for those we love... only something different. I watched Law and order wondering how words could be used to persuade a jury to believe something different and was suprised that an argment so easily did that. I think likewise a thing besides just hoping can be done for children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, I have noticed how differently and unexpectedly people react to a fact. It all boils down to what is important. For intance, to me, it is how I feel about something that matters most. For others it is how they think about something. I can really frustrate a reasonable person, and we all know that a reasonable person is better than the "emotional" person, why? that I don't now yet. But, you can destroy my favored things with logic and it doesn't phase me because it still feels right, but what if the unexplainable changed somehow? I would be able to sort of understand and relate to the reasonable person who concluded that their assumptions were wrong. So, after much thought I see a similarity where I first saw a difference. I know that he reason I never found many "like-minded" people doing the same things is because I needed to broaden my view beyond my limited circles. I can see like spirits in many different venues by how they react, not by what they have chosen or have had chosen for them to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This exciting fact was revealed by how differently previously considered "like" people reacted to the same thing. This is not a welcome thought to me. I just would not have reacted a given way, but no matter the change when something changes my reaction becomes a measure of who I am. So, unlike others who mourn or cry, I will use the occassion to be glad that I was able to learn such a unique truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-7602721547947627547?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/7602721547947627547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=7602721547947627547' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7602721547947627547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7602721547947627547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2011/10/my-most-current-thought-is-about.html' title='my most current thought is about differences in people'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-3632253401709245270</id><published>2011-10-12T18:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-12T18:55:25.630-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Joseph's 2nd</title><content type='html'>Unfortunately it won't be friday the 13th tommorrow, though at least he has a chance, I got a Friday, but it wasn't hardly as cool. I just wanted to record a few thoughts in their freshness for him as he ages. He is so sweet! I hardly did enough for that little guy who is the germ of an awesome man!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today he accidentaly hit me once and said, "sorry." I did not think he was doing his usual niceties like "please and thank you" either. he really meant it. I think it was learned from my other kids, something Nick won't say though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was singing his lullaby "I Love to see the temple" and as i was leaving I blew him a kiss and said "I Love You. Night, night!" then, as i turned i tripped. He got out of bed and rushed to his door asking " are you ok?" I explained that I was ok, then he turned to get back in bed and once there blew a kiss at me and said "You. nite, nite." He is so thoughtful! I hope he likes the cake and things I made for him, I wish I could think of a perfect thing to do though. Oh well. I ought to get some sleep before i trip again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-3632253401709245270?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/3632253401709245270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=3632253401709245270' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/3632253401709245270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/3632253401709245270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2011/10/josephs-2nd.html' title='Joseph&apos;s 2nd'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-3650985858061367827</id><published>2011-10-02T02:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-02T02:27:22.544-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Charity</title><content type='html'>I believe that one could talk about this forever and still not say enough, It inspires the best in us all. It was the answer to my recent why question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, I was trying to understasnd how and why a religion so firmly focused on the family was responsible for the destruction of so many of them. It is common that when a man choses his intellect as a guide, the woman's place is to follow, technically, that is what she promised to do, but her devotion to the church is more important to her. Her feelings are stronger where engendered by acts of Charity or in other words The pure love of Christ is so much more attractive than the other loves of their life, mistakingly, they even assume the love of their husband or children is that same love, And we have been taught that it is a man's duty to eh, decieve? uhm, no but to follow the teachings of Christ and by doing so, they become a follower of Christ. This makes them so desirable and impossible to seperate any love that stems from doing good for others from their love for a spouse until it is so ingrained in who they are that they believe they love their spouse with all of their heart. If this is true then, the solution in the scriptures to love your husband and cleave unto none else is extra important. And it would never conflict with Charity, which love is the love that includes all of your heart and mind and being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In conclusion, The women are doing a better job focusing on Charity which gives them incredible potential that the men don't seem to be getting. I think having children is part of it. Child birth is a unique way that allows a woman to come to a greater understanding of the atonement, which, it's hard to be jealous of something so terrible and painful, physically as well as mentally and emotionally, but it really gives women an unfair advantage, which explains why having the priesthood (power of God) is of utmost importance. Afterall, Adam needed Eve, but God blamed Adam directly for Eve's betrayal. It's okay, it's one of those things that was supposed to be that way. It actually strengthened the bond between the sexes for now they needed eachother in a different way, as if physically wasn't enough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-3650985858061367827?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/3650985858061367827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=3650985858061367827' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/3650985858061367827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/3650985858061367827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2011/10/charity.html' title='Charity'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-3826118106103288453</id><published>2011-10-01T17:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-01T18:05:11.203-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Won't or Can't</title><content type='html'>On very significant matters, My debate always comes down to this. On one hand is a possibility that can but won't the other choice is one that won't but can, And I simply cannot decide which would be easiest to live with. I tend to think won't is worse because the will is involved, but when I put mysel in the picture, I know that can't is worse because the potential is not even there. My current choice is "out of the box" I go with none of the above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should I explain? I made a list then trew it away, but now I'm starting to see that I ought to trust myself because I was more inspired than I thought. In my list I disgarded things like RM because it didn't qualify Brandall. Then on my list was such things as height and divorce, and being a southerner. All of which totally disqualify Brandall  I decided for various reasons that those things didn't matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have learned since that I can rationalize anything to make it seem reasonable or not, but ultimately it isn't about reason. A good friend of mine said "Our heat has reasons of which our minds know nothing of." And then Matt told me about a trial his sister was going through and she ultimately yielded to her heart. But, to me, the point of a list is so that I will make a wise choice before it becomes up to my heart to explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm trying to decide what I need forever and what can be stricken from my list. I tend to think following my heart led me to Brandall which was a huge mistake! Oh grrrrr! I was happy and getting everything I needed, soI thought, but Nick hasn't shown any desire to try to get anything for us. He doesn't seem to value me at all nor want to secure me as his forever, but I do not have a doubt that is most important to me, being needed, and wanted. I would like to get that from My husband, but forever is too long to deal with someone who doesn't desire you. Ok, when I say desire, I do not mean the same word as love, ok, Joseph is screaming, I need to cut this short for now... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh, well he stopped. but, I call sense that Nick expects me to come takecare of things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-3826118106103288453?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/3826118106103288453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=3826118106103288453' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/3826118106103288453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/3826118106103288453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2011/10/wont-or-cant.html' title='Won&apos;t or Can&apos;t'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-127182363047476754</id><published>2011-10-01T16:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-01T16:37:20.462-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I get it!</title><content type='html'>I was rejected by man, not by God. I could say so much, but what was central to my life was that I had contrary commandments to keep. I needed to love my husband, but I knew that I had a limited time and that I simply must go have children, My intention was to love Brandall forever and raise children together, but He had his agency and that needed to be respected. So, I  went out here and was willing to give up my life for the possibility of raising some children which was necessary and foremost in everything I taught. I will not pretend to be so divinly guided, I was desperate for something that I would do things that I considered wrong to be able to do this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I have now decided that I am exactly where I ought to be, and it is both lack of faith and selfishness in my desires to be sealed to someone forever. Forever is very long I'll find time to chase my own dreams when my duty to those kids is less important. I will live forever, so, it is not wrong to pray for the desire to be with someone forever. It is putting my desire above my children in importance that is troublesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-127182363047476754?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/127182363047476754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=127182363047476754' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/127182363047476754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/127182363047476754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-get-it.html' title='I get it!'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-8987147208916038492</id><published>2011-10-01T12:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-01T12:20:55.745-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The gradual choice</title><content type='html'>I wonder if i'm ever going to have time to waste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am quite certain of things and I feel total peace, no appetite remains of any kind, though, I'm a bit thirsty. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be busy here for quite a while, but a time will come when I must face my own agency and make my choices regarding eternity, the choice might be a process though, that might be gradually made as I make millions of little choices, till one day, I say, I know exactly what I'll be doing in eternity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IF that's a big word. I like sure things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-8987147208916038492?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/8987147208916038492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=8987147208916038492' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8987147208916038492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8987147208916038492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2011/10/gradual-choice.html' title='The gradual choice'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-5431765741888832356</id><published>2011-09-26T11:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-26T11:10:49.061-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my wish list</title><content type='html'>Ok, first I'm going to get a duo stroller for the babies, but It's really for me. I need Jelly to make Sandwiches for Nick and Diapers and wipes (can never have too many) I need some make-up. Mybe some hair dye, maybe. I'm going to get a cable to conect my keyboard up to my computer to use drums and such. I want to get Lena  uDraw for the wii.I'm going to do something about my teeth, and Nick wants me to get a new phone that works, but I told him, I only need it because I had it. I'd honestly like to get a tablet or laptop. I'll see. I suppose I ought to get a better camera or atleast a laptop with  webcam. lol. Just thought of a silly video of a mom(an old non-technical lady) wanting a laptop with a webcam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There other than a new house or car I got nothing. I was explaining to Nick that I just don't feel very needy. I had to think quite hard to think of this stuff. It didn't come to me naturally. Or maybe I'd prefer getting my Christmas shopping done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-5431765741888832356?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/5431765741888832356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=5431765741888832356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5431765741888832356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5431765741888832356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2011/09/my-wish-list.html' title='my wish list'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-3036138768304346453</id><published>2011-09-26T10:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-26T10:59:41.294-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a blog, a blog? I already have one</title><content type='html'>Of all the venues, though not much growth is achieved in finding what natually suits you. I have been told one too many times that I ought to start a blog with all of my rants. Maybe I will. I am ready for a big change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here I can use as many words as I like and it is refreshing! And I can say whatever I want and no one will ever see it. unlike twitter or facebook, which suited me fine when my phone worked well. You really can't beat catching up on the world in the tub.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-3036138768304346453?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/3036138768304346453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=3036138768304346453' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/3036138768304346453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/3036138768304346453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2011/09/blog-blog-i-already-have-one.html' title='a blog, a blog? I already have one'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-7602833485787467598</id><published>2011-09-26T10:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-26T10:53:40.829-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Allusions</title><content type='html'>I had been thinking overtime about what I like about things, or what makes me like something. I really like stories. I like music, too but the stories in music don't have to use words and I still love them. I heard a music therapist say that we make associations (lol) with our senses, Music, in this case, That when solidly in our minds recall several other feelings! I was like "Yeah! That's it!". That reasoning explains why When I hear certain songs it almost transports me back in time, all of the other stronger parts of my mind also are exercised in recalling their associated "memories" when a song is heard.And so I don't like to rwatch entire movies. I like to recapture that snipet that recalls my strong recollection. I use videos like a journal. It is not a new idea or anything. People of my generation have always used the power of art to communicate, by using pictures or jewelry to say their words for them, or creating MixTapes that say what we want to, but this is a "professional" getting paid to do it for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I had thought that I figured "classics" out. they were just true expressions traped out of situation in a way that they would endure people or situations. But, as I was listening to a new song It brought to my mind all kinds of things that were not memories, but brilliant, in everyway. I wondered if the creater of the song even knew of all of the allusions. It all seemed too perfectly suited. I thought, hmm... Maybe a similar feeling evoked them that is the reason for the similarities. Then, it struck me how much I loved allusions and always have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite books(outside of Choose your own Adventures) were all Mysteries. I was a huge "Sherlock Holmes" and Agatha Christie fan. I decided this was because I like to solve things. To me my most loved art is that which requires repeated experience to understand or figure out. I still have not figured out the whole (nor probably ever will) of "Inception". I love the intelligence of so many of these. I expect there are associations that I am not even aware of yet, that as my perspective matures my understanding will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess this blog was more about mystery than allusion. I merely wanted to express my appreciation of allusion, especially when it was intended and understood, kind of like deduction or extrapolation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-7602833485787467598?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/7602833485787467598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=7602833485787467598' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7602833485787467598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7602833485787467598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2011/09/allusions.html' title='Allusions'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-180801516159340726</id><published>2011-09-21T04:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-21T04:22:19.264-07:00</updated><title type='text'>hey, you...</title><content type='html'>yes, you! If you are reading this, then I have a treat for you. I'd say it myself, but this is more compact and profound: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"All over the world, Latter-day saint women feel the same way about Relief Society, 'Way down deep.' They have benefitted from its service, and they know it is now their turn to serve with charity and faith. They give this service in different capacities-- as daughters, wives, mothers, sisters, aunts, visiting teachers, Relief Society leaders, neighbors and friends. Some of their service comes in reponse to assignments from Church leaders, and some of their service comes in reponse to quiet promptings from the Holy Ghost. Seeing that they are 'compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses,' they are ready to 'run with patience that race that is set before them."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     &lt;blockquote&gt;"I believe when we determine within our hearts that by and with the blessings of God, our Heavenly Father we will accomplish that labor; but when we lay down, when we become discouraged, when we look at the top of the mountain and say it is impossible to climb to the summit, while we never make an effort it will never be accomplished." -Heber J. Grant&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-180801516159340726?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/180801516159340726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=180801516159340726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/180801516159340726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/180801516159340726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2011/09/hey-you.html' title='hey, you...'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-9169229366543469818</id><published>2011-08-27T11:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-27T11:26:48.693-07:00</updated><title type='text'>wireless?</title><content type='html'>I remember at my train the trainer class in San Diego everyone was taking in the networking instruction part about how everything was going wireless in the future. I thought of myself as insightful, but I was clearly wrong in thinking it would never happen. But, as an analogy, I think my life needs to go wireless. It's worse that all of those cords behind the desk. Which we refer to as Spagetti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started out with such grand intentions and expectations. Even, everyone I knew said that I would do great things, see how messed up this is? I'm speaking in past tense as if it's too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really, it is. I don't know which bridge I unwittingly burned that got me so stuck, but I am. Now, they say necessity is the mother of invention, so maybe I just need to work harder to mcguyver my way out( I believe that is the politically correct way to say you nigger rigged, but face it, I'm a red neck).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still believe in a way of life that I fully intended to live. But, as I read about how awesome life can be I see that I messed it up, alot. I have tried to pretend everything is fine, but I'm only lying to myself and God. Things are not fine, and I really want to believe they can be. How could this happen to me? No, stop it. I am not the victim of this story, but the author.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll write more later. I have other pressing needs. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-9169229366543469818?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/9169229366543469818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=9169229366543469818' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/9169229366543469818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/9169229366543469818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2011/08/wireless.html' title='wireless?'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-1910412359859089459</id><published>2010-02-01T13:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T13:56:33.767-08:00</updated><title type='text'>who do you love?</title><content type='html'>when I was dating Robert Woodruff and told everyone that I infact planned to marry him. A sister I hardly knew pulled me aside. She told me this very important story...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-1910412359859089459?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/1910412359859089459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=1910412359859089459' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1910412359859089459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1910412359859089459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2010/02/who-do-you-love.html' title='who do you love?'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-5213341082155480042</id><published>2009-05-24T14:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T03:12:02.452-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Review</title><content type='html'>Review of Health Web Site&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     As I am sure this pertains to many of you, I think you will find this link extremely valuable, though unlike many of my other “self-conscious” posts might be of use, I know several of you will really appreciate this. Here is a link to the site itself: &lt;a href=http://www.NatMedTalk.com&gt;natural health forum&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     Here starts my review: the site is extremely intuitive and has many browsable discussions about health related issues that are of interest to all, as they are far reaching in scope. It also has a link to search posts if you have a particular keyword in mind. This is copied directly from the byline “NatMedTalk is a forum for all those interested in all aspects of health and illness, there are lots of natural and alternative ways of dealing with health problems.” and just so that I am not just shouting praises, I did find one troubling aspect of this site,  you must join the forum in order to post. I agree this is petty, but if you do not like to fill out forms or give contact information but want to talk to someone with similar concerns in hope of finding natural success it is a teensy bit intimidating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-5213341082155480042?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/5213341082155480042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=5213341082155480042' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5213341082155480042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5213341082155480042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2009/05/review.html' title='Review'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-586447931947130273</id><published>2009-04-06T10:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T10:46:40.474-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Onista: Think Outside Auctions</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=http://www.onista.com/&gt;Onista: Think Outside Auctions&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted using &lt;a href="http://sharethis.com"&gt;ShareThis&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-586447931947130273?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/586447931947130273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=586447931947130273' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/586447931947130273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/586447931947130273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2009/04/onista-think-outside-auctions.html' title='Onista: Think Outside Auctions'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-7582335888731743278</id><published>2009-04-04T13:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T14:07:33.883-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a cool new site</title><content type='html'>http://www.callhunter.com/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;at first, i was skeptical, but upon review I can safely reccomend this site to everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, personally, I have not been &lt;a href="http://www.callhunter.com/guides/stop-debt-collection-calls"&gt;hounded&lt;/a&gt; by debt collectors or the irs, but after many commercials and most recently, the movie &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f9nn0eKwxHY"&gt;Seven Pounds&lt;/a&gt;, i sense that it might be a popular topic, or one worth spending the time to understand why soomeone would create  such a site.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consider this a favor that I'm passing on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-7582335888731743278?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/7582335888731743278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=7582335888731743278' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7582335888731743278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7582335888731743278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2009/04/cool-new-site.html' title='a cool new site'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-1052280637410087304</id><published>2009-03-20T11:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T11:06:24.680-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nickelback in Nashville</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Kq4Q7X2jHwk&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Kq4Q7X2jHwk&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/X-EywCMO8d8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/X-EywCMO8d8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qYOwJ_b3zrI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qYOwJ_b3zrI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-1052280637410087304?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/1052280637410087304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=1052280637410087304' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1052280637410087304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1052280637410087304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2009/03/nickelback-in-nasville.html' title='Nickelback in Nashville'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-1061777673407545044</id><published>2009-03-14T08:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T08:08:25.679-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How It Ends</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tmRtYB8MW6M&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tmRtYB8MW6M&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-1061777673407545044?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/1061777673407545044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=1061777673407545044' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1061777673407545044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1061777673407545044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2009/03/how-it-ends.html' title='How It Ends'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-7193976728462170972</id><published>2009-02-23T11:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T11:29:57.613-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Twitter</title><content type='html'>I really do not have much to say, but I wanted to thank twitter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems like sucha simple little tool, but it is a good place for people to get together, it is symbolic of a pile of sugary goodness to a group of ants.the internet is full of poeople but no way to get them all together. What twitter does is allow people to see that they are "not alone"much as was previously a thing assigned to books or movies. only attention spans have decreased with the "blog age" I have even been told on twitter to "get a blog" cause I just have too much to say, being raised on books and movies. But I knew this 140 character thing was coming. not because I am a great prophetess, but because I tend to notice unraveling schemes in marketing, and I knew that whomever first thought of this would bevery successful, i knew people wanted to socialize, It's like knowing feeders are going to work well at the duckpond,sort of a no brainer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here is a link: http://www.twitter.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;see how you like it. and look me up too,for an excercise in your prowess. I use the name melisssa. Best wishes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-7193976728462170972?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/7193976728462170972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=7193976728462170972' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7193976728462170972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7193976728462170972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2009/02/twitter.html' title='Twitter'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-6730717128538847333</id><published>2009-01-31T13:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T13:31:54.764-08:00</updated><title type='text'>No more I love yous</title><content type='html'>Obviously saying "I Love" doesn't convey the meaning I mean. It really mkes you think about all of your perceptions. I wrote a poem about the word love once, anyhow, I use it too much and have inflated it so that now it is become unuseful in its deflated state. I want to simply say " I love reese's. " but aside from the ET jokes i must use another more neglected word, to be fair. I esteem them, and find great pleasure in their consumption.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the story: I bought a picture from ebay and put it on my wall. my daughter saw it and said who is that? I said, "oh, it's Tal Bachman. I love him." I meant that I esteem him and his thoughts and use the poster to remind me of who I can become, buut my daughter went home to her dad and told him that I had a picture ofmy boyfriend on my wall, innocently when he asked about my posters i told him that I had a poster og Tal on my wall, that's when things got escalated. It lead to accusations of adultry even, with something so harmless, but to Brandall, he always felt threatened by my obsession with musicians, Namely Tal and Kevin Montgomery. he even told my parents that I only married him because he looked like Tal. ok, being fair, Tal Bachman is very attractive, but if he were dog ugly I wouldn't care. IT is his mind and such that interests me, and his keen use of talent. I see him as a kindred spirit. I know to alot of you, it seems like a delusion, but I only think he got lucky. I do not esteem his talent over my own. I do not belittle myself to hero worship him, only I see his sucess as what mine could've been. oh, I digress. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to try to not take the easy route and say love, I'll show deeper appreciation by generating my own words no, not new words, to describe how I feel about things.&lt;br /&gt;here are two songs for appreciation if you are still trying to understand what I mean:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wasftkYiVX0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wasftkYiVX0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/3FTThhRl6Jc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/3FTThhRl6Jc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-6730717128538847333?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/6730717128538847333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=6730717128538847333' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/6730717128538847333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/6730717128538847333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2009/01/no-more-i-love-yous.html' title='No more I love yous'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-7272826870326741725</id><published>2009-01-23T11:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T11:42:09.796-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Coraline!</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/0GkMa040rtw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/0GkMa040rtw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/03yzQyrsn90&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/03yzQyrsn90&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-7272826870326741725?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/7272826870326741725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=7272826870326741725' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7272826870326741725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7272826870326741725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2009/01/coraline.html' title='Coraline!'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-4111093206535126664</id><published>2009-01-23T11:29:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T11:29:10.342-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/MKp19Kvpr7E&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/MKp19Kvpr7E&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-4111093206535126664?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/4111093206535126664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=4111093206535126664' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/4111093206535126664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/4111093206535126664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2009/01/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-8435861235700068938</id><published>2009-01-23T10:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T11:07:57.751-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Twilight</title><content type='html'>I was side-tracked by Nickelback, but as I listened to the Audio book Twilight, ok crud, let me write down this old song before I get started:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its the sunrise of my life.&lt;br /&gt;It's the dawn of yet to be for me.&lt;br /&gt;It's a time for reaching high.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, that's it, I just had to type that so it didn't bother me anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been contemplating alot of things, te one I wish to verbalize, on the internet, has to do with Matt Smith. Probably, I ought to keep it to myself, but the novel had a way of letting you in on "omnicient secerets" then coyly saying that they spoke otherwise, it was mostly because Edward Cullen could read her thoughts anyway, so acting did no good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, I act like I do not care much for him, and have only loved him as a friend, when I actually could have done otherwise. Now, I will tell the magical story of how I found him the second time. Though each time was magical!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, I worked at Pizza hut in Corinth and my boss wanted to do a "food swap" with China Palace. ok, let me explain, this is as it sounds. two corporations who sell food make a deal and exchange food with eachother. This is a thing greatly appreciated by employees. ok, Matt, had worked there during college, and my heart raced to think of him actually being there. I went into the cooler to say a little prayer, and it dawned on me to mention his name to my employer. he asked about Matt and was told that he had left. this bewildered me because he was supposedly going to marry a girl who lived in Corith and got him the job, I think. oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was fillipantly told that he moved to Memphis, so I called my best friend, LeAnne Smith and told her the news. I was not sure how she would take the news, but she agreed to call directory assistance for me. she asked his name, and strangely, i remembered his full name, which is not typical. anyway, she found his number and arranged to meet up with him at some strange parkinglot, err gas station. so off we went and the rest is history. lots of kickers I really ought to have included, like that he moved to Oxford after I left and is now in Nashville. oh, he is a hoot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lost him again shortly after his birthday when he went to go live with his best friend's girlfriend, Jackie, in Austin, TX.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thought are flooding in faster than I could possibly record them, sorry. My fingers cannot keep up with my thoughts since the stint in the hospital, as I will call it. I can type with mt right hand. on TV a guy asked, are you right handed. answer was yes, then the interrogator beat his hand with a baseball bat and said, "It's a shame. Guess you're going to have to learn to use your left hand."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, I have gained insight here that will allow me to be happy now, when I wouldn'y have before. my question was: What's good enough for now might not be good enough forever. a thought inspired by the book/movie Twilight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I admit to understand Bella all to well. I too have felt that in love and loved washington, and been uprooted, and to seattle and port Orchard, another story for another time. I'm seeing potential chapters here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, I better go get my stuff done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-8435861235700068938?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/8435861235700068938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=8435861235700068938' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8435861235700068938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8435861235700068938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2009/01/twilight.html' title='Twilight'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-5483822695889717226</id><published>2009-01-10T14:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T14:26:49.314-08:00</updated><title type='text'>2009</title><content type='html'>Actually, today is Nick's Birthday, and I will remember it as the day that I had the worst headache imagineable, lots of things like resolutions are floating around in my thoughts, just brushing against my perceptions casing smirks then disappearing into what is my whole concept of being, so they do effect me but will not be spoken of directly in this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  As I was praying very seriously almost in lamentful way because the guy I was obsessed with is married and that ought to be happy, huh? then, bam! I thought, haven't I gotten everything I wanted? well, yeah, guess I have, rather I have gotten everything I needed, just haven't been too lofty about my wants. except for cash. I would really like to have enought money only to do the things that I desire. I have this crazy idea that a job will do this for me, but now I understand something great! let me try to explain. Joy isn't purchased. oh, wow! who doesn't know that? no it goes farther just ask Annie Lennox: "Money can't buy it. Sex csan't buy it." I get what I need by doing what is right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think if I took a job then I wouldn't be learning as much because I would be a bit more self-sufficient whereas I am learning a great deal more in relying on others for help. If my goal was to be self-sufficient, then I would do so, but that isnot my goal, it is the goal others place before me cause they think that I am too stupid to know what I want. the best explination was that it was important that I become a contributing member of society. someone organized and runs this society, so I would be doing what they think is best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My place is right here. Nick was bewidered and asked me the otherday, "why don't you smile more?" he has a point. but I said it was because I wasn't happy. he further prodded, "What else do you need to be happy?" I think, um, maybe my voice and a piano, but all I said was a car. ha said that can be taken catre of as soon as I get a job. ok, I am good at means to and end stuff. so I figured, life is good, like nathaniel Hawethorne, I'll improve on goodness (birthmark). I'll get a joob so that I can get a car, but is it just me or if I get a job, I can get my own car, etc anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then this week I had three interviews and also read lots of news flashes about how terrible our economy is doing and Utah declared a freeze on hiring. oh well, god is most powerful. It doesn't scare me. if I was imntended to get a job, it would happen, like sarah having a child in her old age, nothing is impossible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then a flash!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a warm home, food, internet, everything really, it is only because I am selfishly discontent that I do not laugh a little. I am making so much progress. I can walk and run! and play wii. I ought to go ice skating! I giggled a little, i need to be focusing on things that I can do for others not what I would do if oniy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am still obessed with Chad Kroeger, not the real person, but the idea. I'll recreate him in Nick's person, perfection! i also have a grand new idea of something I am going to accomplish, so just contemplating it makes me smile. guess I ought to get back to crocheting an Afghan for nick, he'll be here too soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-5483822695889717226?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/5483822695889717226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=5483822695889717226' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5483822695889717226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5483822695889717226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2009/01/2009.html' title='2009'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-5423389912787899807</id><published>2008-12-31T15:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T15:44:27.756-08:00</updated><title type='text'>photos 2008 Cont.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SVwDd0BdYdI/AAAAAAAABKA/uB8W8qw8Fm8/s1600-h/from+camera+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SVwDd0BdYdI/AAAAAAAABKA/uB8W8qw8Fm8/s320/from+camera+001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286103873341972946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SVwC6mZtU9I/AAAAAAAABJw/7n2RTMcX3GA/s1600-h/chuck+e+cheese.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 170px; height: 127px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SVwC6mZtU9I/AAAAAAAABJw/7n2RTMcX3GA/s320/chuck+e+cheese.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286103268390163410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SVwCyu8bTDI/AAAAAAAABJo/NUJvx9WR3bk/s1600-h/eve.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SVwCyu8bTDI/AAAAAAAABJo/NUJvx9WR3bk/s320/eve.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286103133244312626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SVwCouN_lXI/AAAAAAAABJg/o6bMh846y8s/s1600-h/ballerinas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 170px; height: 113px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SVwCouN_lXI/AAAAAAAABJg/o6bMh846y8s/s320/ballerinas.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286102961250866546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-5423389912787899807?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/5423389912787899807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=5423389912787899807' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5423389912787899807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5423389912787899807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/12/photos-2008-cont.html' title='photos 2008 Cont.'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SVwDd0BdYdI/AAAAAAAABKA/uB8W8qw8Fm8/s72-c/from+camera+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-5824687535234046689</id><published>2008-12-31T15:34:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T15:37:53.849-08:00</updated><title type='text'>photos</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SVwCGHI0shI/AAAAAAAABJY/4jW-8vT1eeg/s1600-h/232323232%257Ffp43288%253Enu%253D3237%253E696%253E%253B72%253EWSNRCG%253D323369599849%253Bnu0mrj.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SVwCGHI0shI/AAAAAAAABJY/4jW-8vT1eeg/s320/232323232%257Ffp43288%253Enu%253D3237%253E696%253E%253B72%253EWSNRCG%253D323369599849%253Bnu0mrj.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286102366644646418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SVwB8Ox6YeI/AAAAAAAABJQ/7S2fseyD1W0/s1600-h/necklace.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SVwB8Ox6YeI/AAAAAAAABJQ/7S2fseyD1W0/s320/necklace.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286102196897341922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SVwBnRNFyjI/AAAAAAAABJI/779NDxnaJIg/s1600-h/cableknit+scarf-12-19-08.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SVwBnRNFyjI/AAAAAAAABJI/779NDxnaJIg/s320/cableknit+scarf-12-19-08.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286101836770953778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-5824687535234046689?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/5824687535234046689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=5824687535234046689' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5824687535234046689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5824687535234046689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/12/photos.html' title='photos'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SVwCGHI0shI/AAAAAAAABJY/4jW-8vT1eeg/s72-c/232323232%257Ffp43288%253Enu%253D3237%253E696%253E%253B72%253EWSNRCG%253D323369599849%253Bnu0mrj.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-4374056144350337314</id><published>2008-12-19T23:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-19T23:50:02.378-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love</title><content type='html'>It bewilders me. the thought resounds more frequrntly than I care to admit, but am I even capable of love? I like to play the game of if I could be anywhere doing anything what would I be doing? then once that is solved I only need to excercise patience and it will happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love Brandall, but the likliness of him eer falling in love with me is foolish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had an extremely weird idea that I cannot speak of or type, only in riddles, as unsatisfying as that is, it would be like blasphemy, but I know nothing that's the stem of my problem, how to turn faith into knowledge and still be alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that I'm not supposed to know, If God is all-knowing and then he knows what I would think and feel, and can know how I will act. I believe that he loves me completely, so I want to please him, so what's the prpblem? easy: will I ever know love? or should I just keep trying? in life I tak test and do not leave answers blank cause I don't know but guess and learn more by searching to know. si If I apply that... Is there somebody? is Brandall still the one for me or ought I try to love another? Could I? hmmm&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-4374056144350337314?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/4374056144350337314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=4374056144350337314' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/4374056144350337314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/4374056144350337314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/12/love.html' title='Love'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-1074257525292253498</id><published>2008-12-18T11:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T11:50:39.218-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gotta be somebody - Nickelback</title><content type='html'>I was very happy with my life, until I decided to listen to more Nickelback music and the thought keeps filling my head that I love Brandall, and am glad to not be divorced cause I would end up sealed to someone else for eternity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the still small voice tells me that I am alive for a rreason, and things are happening for my best, as always, I just need to quit any selfish will whatsoever and realize that my part must be played and if it is, and I do my job the way I have been taught and prepared that I will ultimately be rewarded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want out of here right now, but I have been taught to not let what I want "Right now" get in the way of my ultimate needs, I also think on the fact that there is often alot of rihgt choices but one will be the best, sounds like I need to reevaluate my life and pray harder, and be willing to do whatever is needed. I switched from being or feeling like Job to feeling like Jonah, sure he tried to escape, so did Christ, but, "the ways of god will not be frustrated." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be me and do what is right for me and see where that leads me. I want to find that I am with "somebody" forever that I love whatever that is. "I will know it by the feeling."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-1074257525292253498?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/1074257525292253498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=1074257525292253498' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1074257525292253498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1074257525292253498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/12/goota-be-somebody-nickelback.html' title='Gotta be somebody - Nickelback'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-2344741758688525868</id><published>2008-11-02T00:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T00:57:33.232-07:00</updated><title type='text'>current pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SQ1dZo1Lb5I/AAAAAAAABJA/vuZsDLRkh7Q/s1600-h/me.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SQ1dZo1Lb5I/AAAAAAAABJA/vuZsDLRkh7Q/s320/me.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263966234504556434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SQ1c1O8565I/AAAAAAAABI4/jsPvlPb4Jw8/s1600-h/fruit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 315px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SQ1c1O8565I/AAAAAAAABI4/jsPvlPb4Jw8/s320/fruit.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263965609082350482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SQ1cf-jN98I/AAAAAAAABIw/NdQLDL4YwHc/s1600-h/fornick.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SQ1cf-jN98I/AAAAAAAABIw/NdQLDL4YwHc/s320/fornick.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263965243902392258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SQ1cXHhvKNI/AAAAAAAABIo/waNgbBvPWys/s1600-h/3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SQ1cXHhvKNI/AAAAAAAABIo/waNgbBvPWys/s320/3.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263965091693275346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-2344741758688525868?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/2344741758688525868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=2344741758688525868' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/2344741758688525868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/2344741758688525868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/11/current-pictures.html' title='current pictures'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SQ1dZo1Lb5I/AAAAAAAABJA/vuZsDLRkh7Q/s72-c/me.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-6638253415658532500</id><published>2008-11-02T00:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T00:48:42.808-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Salt Lake City - the rest of the story...</title><content type='html'>Ok, I havent been officially there yet, but I'm planning on finding a place to live there, though I love the kids there are things that I should like to do that cannot be done with them peeping  or with all the little "onlookers" as we call them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, now why did I choose to write? to tell the story of What was I thinking that I asked on twitter the otherday, since I promised to tell a story   "pure fiction" ofcourse. So here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized at 4 am that I had a camera oh, wait the story deepens, like Tolkein said the good ones do... cool.Why was I up at 4 am? sick, no bad dream, now unable to sleep due to longing and confusion, that had built up in my mind to the point where it began flooding into my spirit and drowning me so I woke up gasping for air, that waswhen I realized that Nick's laptop had a camera. though I just told kenny it was no worth playing on cause it was slow and didn't have a microphone, so he went and brought me one. Pych, did you actually believe this? looser!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sleeping in the Toy room cause everyone knows how much I love to play with toys, I decided to use them as props, but then decided not to, sorry Matt. Great Scott!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, so I was really thinking that I wanted guys to reassure me that I wasn't a hideous beast and my job issues were somehow the fault of the economy, that will be changed by Obama, yet, in this "preObama" toy room. I got the idea that I could take a picture of me at my worst and if no one commented then I was ugly and they were heeding the old saying ,"If you can't say something nice don't say anything at all." but if they did comment favorably on such a current picture, though wretched, I could regain my self esyeem and conquer yet another part of this silly Brain infection. sure my ballance stinks, but I will continue to improve, besides pictures do not show ballance issues, and Nick promised that he did think thaty I was attractive and "perfect" and quite frankly he isn't a liar. oh who the heck is Frank Lee and how is it he constantly finds a place in my stpries, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, that was more fact than fiction, but I found myself preoccupied today and unable to create such a good story and so I rush to wite this and go to bed. before nick logs in to this computer remotely again to "onlook" himself. sounds intriging, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not really. but hey, who am I to judge what interests you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-6638253415658532500?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/6638253415658532500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=6638253415658532500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/6638253415658532500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/6638253415658532500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/11/salt-lake-city.html' title='Salt Lake City - the rest of the story...'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-1366412837185225645</id><published>2008-10-20T13:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T13:59:33.149-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my past</title><content type='html'>I was a bright young scientist. ok, that is how I fancied myself, really I was just a distance running Music major. I attended collgeg at the University of Mississippi and realized that I wanted to see the world, so I drove out west. I ended up working for boeing in Washington doing hardwaresupport under the IBM/Microserve Contract. though I was actually a TSS Employee oh! it was confusing. I worked mostly on HP Plotters and Dell desktops.I was a feild engineer/ hero in my old 1983 silver 240 turbo Volvo sedan. I ate primarily Gardettos and listened to alot of Mlan and Morrissey (or the Smiths) as I drove around Kent &amp; Auburn. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a job doing software support for MIcrosoft via Keanne/Staffmark, and moved to Renton and worked in bellevue. I met Brandall in Nashville. who was a sound recording major at some school in Texas. I drove to Nashville to work as a TEchnical trainer at Athena Computer Learning center, and Met and married Brandall. the I got sick after two healthy pregnancies. my third I was taken to three hospitals and no one could figure out what was wrong. it ends up, I had histoplasmosis that when I got pregnant it got into my nervous system. I still have Ballance/coordination issues. Brandall dumped me at my parents house in Mississippi, where I lived for a while until I decided that I was an adult and ought to take care of myself, something brandall obviously wasn't going to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my son was born early after two miscarriages, he also had open heart surgery. but is strong and well. It is my goal to find peace in life again. sure I accept that I'm not ugly or fat. but I am not a supernmodel and I do not even have a goos reason for wanting to be one, I'm still working on that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have learned, most importantly, that we develop other skills in place of what we loose, as a coping technique. I feel quite fortunate to be alive and able to walk, breathe eat, etc. there really ought not to be room in my thoughts for wanting to be beautiful, but I do. when I look around I see that I'm already cuter than most people, but For some reason I'm not satisfied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one of my dear friends said that was what made me so good at things, my unacceptance of mediocrity. I admit feeling like I always have to be the best. oh  well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway that is a pretty good summaratation of me. If I was creating a fiction. I would've developed my chracter better, but this is just an honest to goodness history.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now, I live in Utah where I am very happy, and feel like I belong. all I need is to be divorced now so I can get custody of my children and raise a family the right way. I'm currenty taking notes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am very much in love with Nicholas Holden, though he probably doubts such, but that's of no conseqiuence because I know he really likes me and I technically am still married anyway. like I said, everything is going to work out for the best. I see myself being healthy and strong again and others will doubt such a horriffic tale, though at times, truth can be stranger than fiction.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-1366412837185225645?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/1366412837185225645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=1366412837185225645' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1366412837185225645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1366412837185225645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-past.html' title='my past'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-8794264388122974097</id><published>2008-10-18T07:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T07:28:25.558-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Utah</title><content type='html'>This place is so cool. today I'm going to go to see the canon in the fall trees with leaves changing colors. And I get to go see the Logan Teple in person, that will be cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A really nice lady brought me more free clothes yesterday, It was so much fun, it is marvelous, not only does she belive the same things as me, but she is a paralegal and defended her self in divorce and got custody of her children when her husband accused her falsely. sound familiar? well, there is hope. She is very happy, course she said that it wasn't easy, and it was 15 years ago. but I think she is believable and can cathatically help herself in helping me, so I let her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got stuff for Brandall that I need to send to him today. His birthday is on the 22.&lt;br /&gt;I hope it will make him happy even though he says that I'm crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I talked to jim last night, too. he thinks It was very selfish and irresponsible to leave my kids in another state, but he just doesn't understand. oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life will be good, and my kids will be happiest and well-cared for. they will have very good memories, I am the one who is hurt by this not them. It is all in my journsals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, I cannot cry right now. I am staying with a family of 6 children and they all want to use my computer, and cellphone. I don't actually blame them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-8794264388122974097?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/8794264388122974097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=8794264388122974097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8794264388122974097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8794264388122974097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/10/utah.html' title='Utah'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-7912670426672731414</id><published>2008-10-10T11:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T11:12:25.967-07:00</updated><title type='text'>cool email alert!</title><content type='html'>Everyone concentrates on the problems we're having in this country lately: illegal immigration, hurricane recovery, alligators attacking people in Florida .  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not me. I concentrate on solutions for the problems. It's a win-win situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+ Dig a moat the length of the Mexican border.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+ Send the dirt to New Orleans to raise the level of the levies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+ Put the Florida alligators in the moat along the Mexican border.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any other problems you would like for me to solve today ?  Yes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think about this one:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Cows&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2..The Constitution&lt;br /&gt;3. The Ten Commandments  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C O W S&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it just me, or does anyone else find it amazing that during the mad cow epidemic our government could track a single cow, born in Canada almost three years ago, right to the stall where she slept in the state of Washington? And, they tracked her calves to their stalls. But they are unable to locate 11 million illegal aliens wandering around our country. Maybe we should give each of them a cow.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T H E    C O N S T I T U T I O N  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They keep talking about drafting a Constitution for Iraq   .... Why don't we just give them ours? It was written by a lot of really smart guys, it has worked for over 200 years, and we're not using it anymore.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T H E   1 0    C O M M A N D M E N T S  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The real reason that we can't have the Ten Commandments posted in a courthouse is this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You cannot post 'Thou Shalt Not Steal,' 'Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery,' and 'Thou Shall Not Lie' in a building full of lawyers, judges and politicians..It creates a hostile work environment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is Time for America to Speak up !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-7912670426672731414?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/7912670426672731414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=7912670426672731414' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7912670426672731414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7912670426672731414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/10/cool-email-alert.html' title='cool email alert!'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-5016186581336601299</id><published>2008-10-07T17:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-09T05:17:34.182-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A song</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/MfIpe4nDku8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-5016186581336601299?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/5016186581336601299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=5016186581336601299' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5016186581336601299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5016186581336601299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/10/song.html' title='A song'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/MfIpe4nDku8/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-3092410657534553771</id><published>2008-10-04T20:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T21:24:14.342-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my conclusions - very blunt</title><content type='html'>I was worried about how I looked, not just being healthy and happy, which caused me alot of unnecessary grief. I mentally could understand the error of my ways but lacked the knowledge of how to apply it. after alot of serious consideration. I thought more deeply on who i was and what I needed. True i was falling in love with someone i thought was "perfect" for me in body, mind and spirit. but after a few talks of conference things clicked and I realized how vain and prideful I was being. It was like eating the fruit from nephi's vision and then feeling ashamed cause of the spacious building.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I listened more things opened in my mind. i realized that it was both good and very bad to be enlightened. "Ignorance is Bliss." it is harder but better to be forced to choose something over the other when you can rationalize either being correct. or a while thinking about things existing on levels of correctness worked that both things could be right, but one more correct than the other. but Then I though how I just want someone to give a talk on revelation and just explain precisely how we know things are true. it will never happen. so I write to fill that void caused commonly in the hearts and minds of those who suffer like I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when the spirit speaks to your heart it is undeniable, it is a calm peace that causes your burdens to "seem" meaningless and light. I am LDS not because of the rhetoric of the church, or cause my dad is bigger than your dad, but because I have felt it. the holy ghost has undeniably spoken words to my heart, that my whole self agrees on. people talked about early saints having a sure conviction of the truth, yet being disgusting to the Lord because of other faults. Lehi's dream made more sense, not that it lacked understanding or clarity notably in the first place. there was another anecdote that explained the point that we can "Know enough" without understanding everything. that made another huge impression. A Missionary said that he Didn't "Know" that what he was doing was right. but his mentor got the whispering in his heart (other men are easier to believe than the spirit, huh?) that this young man did so "know" and as he told the man he was wrong, he did know he was right. The Spirit spoke through him to this man (a real 'teaching moment').&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since no one will read this much except for myself in the future, think to laugh on this all. i very nearly fell in love with a guy on twitter who i thought was all i wanted, and was ready to rationalize that I already lived and accomplished all I needed so the rest of this life was just bonus time for me, I could do all the things I would if i were completely free off "ought to do's". but I made that mistake before. I dumped Robert for Mike cause he said he rode his bike across Scotland, bout me antiquarian books, and worked at Microsoft. turns out Robert was perfect for me, though Mike seemed to be. I met Mike at the SF Bridge, and when to Yellow Stone &amp; Manti with Robert, Duh! though Mike won me over in making sure our motel in Berkley was safe, and i really liked his computer. I vainly thought you could tell alot about someone from their computer. False. it is potential that you ought to judge by, not what they choose. and here I thought all along Actions speak louder than words, and so they are most important. wrong. actions arr more important than words, but a personal anecdote that I'll not relate taught me that potential is more important. Communication cannot be forged out of sheer will power, another vain thing I believed. I did not consider myself a vain and overly proud person, but my realities show me that I did need to be humbled. We are purposely given weaknesses.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-3092410657534553771?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/3092410657534553771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=3092410657534553771' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/3092410657534553771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/3092410657534553771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-conclusions-very-blunt.html' title='my conclusions - very blunt'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-656282907016592544</id><published>2008-10-03T08:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-09T05:28:20.889-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nickelback does it again.</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/9I9-0ajRpQQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/9I9-0ajRpQQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=http://youtu.be/Q0VRj2uw9L0&gt;http://youtu.be/Q0VRj2uw9L0&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/YbP1K-bQB6g" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love them, it is like loving a man, they offer the whole package. good thoughts, Good lyrics, Good music, good songs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-656282907016592544?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/656282907016592544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=656282907016592544' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/656282907016592544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/656282907016592544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/10/nickelback-does-it-again.html' title='Nickelback does it again.'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/YbP1K-bQB6g/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-8821644325710278489</id><published>2008-10-03T06:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T06:41:32.133-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I've got it!</title><content type='html'>It's about power. If I was beautiful, I could do alot more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it is a catch 22 thing. I used to complain that I didn't want to be thought of as a cute bimbo but I lived most of my life that way and got good at it. I actually have the opportunity to change that, but only care that I am not so beautiful. I guess the old adage fits, "Be careful what you wish for." now I can go get hired an never be accused of only getting the job cause I was cute. now it will be because I am qualified. I worked with alot of other hideous people who I fought for so they would get fair treatment. My leverage was being pretty and intimidating. I can still beat up alot of geeks and am still tall, but I wouldn't get whistled at as I walk down the street anymore,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nick says that he is already prepared to fight the guys off and wishes I was uglier, I think he is just being nice, and protective. oh well. I know what I want to be pretty, and the first step to avoiding a reap is knowing of its existence. I just love Dune.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-8821644325710278489?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/8821644325710278489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=8821644325710278489' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8821644325710278489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8821644325710278489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/10/ive-got-it.html' title='I&apos;ve got it!'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-4465466230614631238</id><published>2008-10-02T12:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T12:41:36.530-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Enough is enough!</title><content type='html'>ok, I'm ticked off and I need to go to sleep to refresh my mind.&lt;br /&gt;but I had a new idea. I thought as I read another blog that I actually could write about the same thoughts I think I have actually, it made me eel better because they struggle too but even amidst apparent success they failed, so i am doing ok, though at times i feel like I'm failing. life is way too long to Judge anyone based on anything but potential.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wanting to be beautiful is most important to me and I thought it was just to attract a husband but that's not it. I still do not know what it is. i think something along thew lines of ease of life. i do not want to have to constantly work on it or try to deceive, i just want to be what I think is beautiful. I am my own hardest critic, I know. I realize that others think I'm pretty enough. so what? pretty enough for what? Good question?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nick just messaged me. I ought to go have a conversation with a real person who genuinely loves me. No, not like that, stupid. He greatly is concerned for me and wants what is best for me. The best sort of acquaintance!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough second guessing. time to live.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-4465466230614631238?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/4465466230614631238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=4465466230614631238' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/4465466230614631238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/4465466230614631238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/10/enough-is-enough.html' title='Enough is enough!'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-1941207683231128076</id><published>2008-10-01T18:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T19:01:07.096-07:00</updated><title type='text'>me - unpretensed</title><content type='html'>I think I am likable enough just the way I am. I see there are ways of thought that, though I could accomplish, I do not desire them. I think that I could mke certain desirables desire me, but what is the point? It wouldn't be me they desired but who I made them see. this is such a cycle! again I'm saying the same thing. I am just going to be myself and not try to see through others eyes who I could be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are several facts about me: 1) I am often best taken in small doses added to water cause I'm intense. I tend to think way too much and it has come to embarrass me. I honestly wish I said less, nothing I think is that important anyway. 2)I am attractive when seen through others eyes. I just wish I could see things that way. I know confidence is important but in my life people have explained that it is my discontent nature that pushesme to eternally greater things. My doctors and lawyers try to use all otheir devices to tell me that I am lovely, but even my parents have tried typical tactics. I don't get why it is so important to be beautiful anyway? 3) i am radioactive and feel better when I'm in love. like a hydrogen atom, I need to fill my outer energy level and it is unnatural for mr to be alone. 3) I try to do what is right. i even teach a sunday school class called CTR's which stands not for any kind of ackronymn for monitors, but choose the right. I give out rings and teach the children to refer to the ring when a choice is made kinda like the WWJD wrist bands. I want to be an example of the things I teach. and those kids should confidently know that if they do the things I teach they will be happy. but I taught that the family and Marriage is most important and tried to always do what is right but things still didn't workout. Inside I won't give up on the things I hold true, but if they are true shouldn't my life reflect that? Isn't that beauty? everyone has agency. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What compells people anyway? If you know, please leave a comment below. or e-mail me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;blah, blah, blah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-1941207683231128076?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/1941207683231128076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=1941207683231128076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1941207683231128076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1941207683231128076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/10/me-unpretensed.html' title='me - unpretensed'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-4098670630550576556</id><published>2008-10-01T12:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T12:39:45.309-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Where does money come from?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-9050474362583451279&amp;total=35&amp;start=0&amp;num=10&amp;so=0&amp;type=search&amp;plindex=8&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-4098670630550576556?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/4098670630550576556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=4098670630550576556' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/4098670630550576556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/4098670630550576556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/10/where-does-money-come-from-httpvideo.html' title=''/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-4187351557931953837</id><published>2008-10-01T12:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T12:32:32.873-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't vote!</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/VhDRVKDcXQo&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/VhDRVKDcXQo&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-4187351557931953837?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/4187351557931953837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=4187351557931953837' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/4187351557931953837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/4187351557931953837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/10/dont-vote.html' title='Don&apos;t vote!'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-5243222914467406306</id><published>2008-09-29T19:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T19:56:50.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why?</title><content type='html'>Ok, I'll start out by stating that I am not the one with all of the answers only some but all of them, for the right questions, for the right person. For instance, who is the right person? Easy. The one who asks the right questions and finds all of their answers in my little careless ramblings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not obsessive about weight per se but I just want to be as I was. At each age we are building towards something, and I mourn that my wall was kicked down. In class we read about Ericson's theory and it didn't impress most including my teacher, but it stuck with me for some reason. He [ericson] said that everyone does certain things at certain ages (Developmental stages) and we cannot miss them, or they will be revisited until we do them right. so maybe I missed something important and am reliving my life in attempt to pick it back up. Conceivable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are people who speak in words that penetrate my core being and their thoughts become adopted. so I learn without having to experience, but that was not my intended point. alot of the time we abandon our original points though as directed to teach via 'The hand of providence' the unseen force that compelled advancement like Columbus's' voyage to Asia via the New world. I guess that is a perfect example of a great and fortunate failure. Anyway jumping back, I am in love with Brigham Young, C.S. Lewis, Blaise Pascal, oh too many people to name. Yes. the feeling is love. Not anything to do with what they look like, but their verbal expression holds something kindred to me and I enjoy immersing myself in their thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All my life I hoped to find such a person alive and kicking. But I pretty much gave up that hope after a failed marriage. I still love so many things that I share in common with others, but my "Cosmic destiny" is all tied up in being raised on true Mormon Principles. I am scared of moving to Utah, though I must, I'm scared because I found last time that people are people and just because the majority are "Mormon" doesn't make them good people. I know that I ought to get married to care for my children. They deserve to be raised in a home with a mom and dad, its pretty basic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure *I* am important, but others are more important. I had the plan to go to Utah and remarry. but now I get worried because I am not in Love. I suspect my kids will discern it, unless I fall in love, but as I get better, I gain more of myself back. I gain alot from doing my Yoga each day. It makes me think that If I get married before I'm well. I will not be content when I "Come to my senses" and Get well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I get better I realize more and more that I am most fortunate to have gotten away from Brandall, though I love him, he doesn't love me. Love must be two-sided. I gave up all consideration for myself and ended up in this awful condition, or maybe my failure is luck in disguise. or this is getting too long the average eyes. later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-5243222914467406306?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/5243222914467406306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=5243222914467406306' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5243222914467406306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5243222914467406306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/09/why.html' title='Why?'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-6741716603372029325</id><published>2008-09-26T14:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T14:25:28.050-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Supernatural!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;An excerpt from my favorite show.&lt;br /&gt;best so far&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Kxjr7NW-TRk&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Kxjr7NW-TRk&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-6741716603372029325?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/6741716603372029325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=6741716603372029325' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/6741716603372029325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/6741716603372029325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/09/supernatural.html' title='Supernatural!!'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-1214844884443788847</id><published>2008-09-16T08:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T19:19:10.490-07:00</updated><title type='text'>brandall</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SM_Ua6uB9nI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/6UUDXRoj0HQ/s1600-h/Daddy-~1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SM_Ua6uB9nI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/6UUDXRoj0HQ/s320/Daddy-~1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246645649813927538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SM_UPif1u5I/AAAAAAAAAxI/QOC78_KouPA/s1600-h/Branda~2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SM_UPif1u5I/AAAAAAAAAxI/QOC78_KouPA/s320/Branda~2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246645454333393810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SM_UEKkXmRI/AAAAAAAAAxA/KtD91GCZ66Q/s1600-h/Banjoboy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SM_UEKkXmRI/AAAAAAAAAxA/KtD91GCZ66Q/s320/Banjoboy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246645258931378450" /&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-1214844884443788847?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/1214844884443788847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=1214844884443788847' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1214844884443788847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1214844884443788847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/09/brandall.html' title='brandall'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SM_Ua6uB9nI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/6UUDXRoj0HQ/s72-c/Daddy-~1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-5482845891005378737</id><published>2008-09-16T08:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T08:39:55.859-07:00</updated><title type='text'>avoiding things is not working.</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/y0H4Vr6Czwo&amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;color2=0xcfcfcf&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/y0H4Vr6Czwo&amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;color2=0xcfcfcf&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to escape my obession with Nickelback by watching "Bones". which I really love! but the episode I watched featured the song "far away" lol my keyboard is broken and as I was correcting things I called the song "fat away" which I almost left cause it was so funny. but did you notice Keith Urban's t-shirt? I cannot escape it, I'm obessed. crud. It will lessen in time and effort though. but even Kroeger Signs in Gallatin, or living in Mississippi, and Chad resembles Jesus to me now, I am so haunted. and brandall accuses me of liking Tal Bachman,just cause i love Seattle/bellingham and want to live by the ocean. whatever. I typically hate blonde hair, he ought to be thankful I made exceptions for him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-5482845891005378737?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/5482845891005378737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=5482845891005378737' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5482845891005378737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5482845891005378737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/09/avoiding-things-is-not-working.html' title='avoiding things is not working.'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-5298382961685356083</id><published>2008-09-14T20:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T20:31:39.133-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Promises.</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/zUR_bXW1iQQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/zUR_bXW1iQQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-5298382961685356083?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/5298382961685356083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=5298382961685356083' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5298382961685356083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5298382961685356083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/09/promises.html' title='Promises.'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-7355455007303118707</id><published>2008-09-14T12:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T12:16:14.249-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Child's Prayer</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/CwDczD1iV-E&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/CwDczD1iV-E&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-7355455007303118707?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/7355455007303118707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=7355455007303118707' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7355455007303118707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7355455007303118707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/09/childs-prayer.html' title='Child&apos;s Prayer'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-485597200509854733</id><published>2008-09-13T07:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T20:09:29.805-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I can soooo relate, having</title><content type='html'>suffered from a fungal infection,I haphazardly contracted by inhaling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="512" height="296"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.hulu.com/embed/jC4kd4HNZbLL8-1Tk-3yfw"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.hulu.com/embed/jC4kd4HNZbLL8-1Tk-3yfw" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="512" height="296"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-485597200509854733?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/485597200509854733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=485597200509854733' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/485597200509854733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/485597200509854733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-can-soooo-relate-having.html' title='I can soooo relate, having'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-75676853931623009</id><published>2008-09-13T07:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T07:53:24.132-07:00</updated><title type='text'>what is beauty?</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="512" height="296"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.hulu.com/embed/hbFbYjhhfnHpm_TjeceuqQ"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.hulu.com/embed/hbFbYjhhfnHpm_TjeceuqQ" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"  width="512" height="296"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-75676853931623009?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/75676853931623009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=75676853931623009' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/75676853931623009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/75676853931623009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/09/what-is-beauty.html' title='what is beauty?'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-7514724405933486172</id><published>2008-09-12T09:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T09:34:25.681-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bones - perfect!</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OAOPano8w4E&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OAOPano8w4E&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KQVLjXe8uGQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KQVLjXe8uGQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-7514724405933486172?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/7514724405933486172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=7514724405933486172' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7514724405933486172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7514724405933486172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/09/bones-perfect.html' title='Bones - perfect!'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-5934594448555737524</id><published>2008-09-04T11:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T12:07:40.300-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Favorites!</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1Ci9HTRivBg&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1Ci9HTRivBg&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/R39DzT1p4CI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/R39DzT1p4CI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Job59NUFO4Q&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Job59NUFO4Q&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-5934594448555737524?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/5934594448555737524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=5934594448555737524' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5934594448555737524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5934594448555737524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/09/blog-post.html' title='My Favorites!'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-7224946512455370880</id><published>2008-08-02T05:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-02T05:55:49.335-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Brooksie</title><content type='html'>I was thinking about her and how much we are alike. Brandall says that he tells her that he loves her but she tells me that he doesn't love her, hmm. interesting. It becomes my job to convince her that he does love her. I wonder who will convince me cause I do not believe it one whit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-7224946512455370880?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/7224946512455370880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=7224946512455370880' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7224946512455370880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7224946512455370880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/08/brooksie.html' title='Brooksie'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-5045267404613615817</id><published>2008-08-02T05:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-02T05:58:23.256-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stardust Corpse Bride'/><title type='text'>Victoria</title><content type='html'>Well, I don't rightly know who Victoria is, but I don't like her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this has been a riddle posed or those looking for them. &lt;br /&gt;Similarities: Look for them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-5045267404613615817?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/5045267404613615817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=5045267404613615817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5045267404613615817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5045267404613615817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/08/victoria.html' title='Victoria'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-6637228701485472599</id><published>2008-08-01T05:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-01T06:21:10.338-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Major Breakthrough</title><content type='html'>It didn't comehow or when I expected, but now I must share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I called Brandall, mostlyly crying, because God was protecting me in allowing me not to do the things that Were harmful that I wanted. Ofcourse I didn't see it then. but If I just keep mylawyer and work with Brandall I will get the divorce. I thought that it was nor whar I wanted, Though I did, I was just so confused. See? I reallylove Brandall and only want a divorce because I love him and want to give him what he wants, but the minute I did, everything started working out, and most notably, I lost 13 lbs, while eating lie a pig. I can fit into my smaller clothes and fix computers, soon I think I will be able to sing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole while I honestly thought that Brandall and I should be together and I prayer for it. but now as much as it hurts me, I must be the mature one and be active in granting a divorce. Brandall has had years and trsoutces at his disposal, buy couldn't divorce me until I was ready. to me it shows that God's power is grater than even agency. I noticed that people fall inlove withme all of the time. Brandall isevery thing I love but NEWSFLASH! he doesn't love me. I would wait around until he did, but it isn't going to happen and I have greater things to accomplish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicholas wants me to love him, but I don't yet. I know there is somrthing about him though that keeps me around, It was farwful that we meet, but I do not hve a testimony that I will spend forever with him. Though I love so much about him, and it is important, and I know that eternaly the way people appear is almost insignificant, yet, there is no  "Magic" between us, that I know of, and that is why m immortal, there is no doubt there, so I want a love that will always be with mr, though I am learning that it doesn't make me unique. I used to think that what I need a divorce cause there can not be until then, it would be wrong, but I will keep mysel open until then, to fall in love like in "Hancock" Eternally so. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought that what Brandall and I had was so unique and rare, but now, everyone else is still together. I guess I was wrong. Everyone wants love and just because someone promises to love you forever doesn't mean that they well. I do not doubt that I will live forever, so I must ind someone who will love me that long, so they must love the constant and unchanging me or want the same me thatI hope for. I think  that is why i like Nick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-6637228701485472599?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/6637228701485472599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=6637228701485472599' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/6637228701485472599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/6637228701485472599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/08/major-breakthrough.html' title='Major Breakthrough'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-7074679747577547684</id><published>2008-07-30T06:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T06:50:41.414-07:00</updated><title type='text'>King Nicholas</title><content type='html'>I thought I ought to say something pertinent to the masses, so first I will comment on a song that is popular. Photograph by Nickelback. He made a comment that it suprised him that others found parallel and could relate to his remenissing.I think I already praised C.S. Lewisfor noting that same thing. Ironic?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Talked to LeAnne yesterday, and she said that I cannot marry everyone and to quit trying.She said it is better to obsses over famous guys who don't acknowledge me until I get back on my feet anyway. I watched the Last King of Scotland, and It only solidified my ideas to move to Utah and marry "King Nicholas". But LeAnne said it was a bad idea and just because I can do things doesn't mean I ought to. I told her how I thought so highly of Chad Kroeger, and she asked "You aren't actually talking to him are you?" as if it would be terrible if I were.  then she explained that he looks uncannily like one of her best friends husbands, so there are other guys out there that I can fall in love with when I'm ready. But I love Vancouver! I just love the story of Prince Harry and Prince John. Course probably cause I'm a sucker for fairy tales. But Utah is closer :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, now on to what made me want to write. I just had to express my desire to be wise about musical things. I look at doctors and lawyers with respect but my true admiration goes to those who take the time to follow the dream of making auditoriums ull of people scream. I still have a burning idea that I want to do that. maybe my present sufering will only help assist me. I thought that I needed to study math and accoustics, but now I'm leaning towards learning more about equipment and recording. I want to be an expert not just a powertools junkie. I need to understand everything about a guitar for example. Before I let that to Brandall cause he wanted to be a luthier. and being as we were married I didn't need to have the same skills. And I didn't want friction or competition, that was simply his arena and my interest. but I feel it is time to make it my arena.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that people who truly "hear" records and can play by ear are ama ing and far more credible than any doctor. It is either talent or determination that made one sit down and learn all that information. most doctors lack the passion and get respect to makr up for it, but alot od Musician have both. I ought to go look up something to study along the line of preparing myself to be a roadie. My friend Jim dropped out of highschool and became a millionaire by 25. so I tried to emulate him. now I see that computers are not my passion but my expertise. my dad was a brilliant musician who treated his talent like a plague, and so taught me. now, i bet he wishes he hadn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;blah, blah, blah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-7074679747577547684?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/7074679747577547684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=7074679747577547684' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7074679747577547684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7074679747577547684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/07/movies-and-stuff.html' title='King Nicholas'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-1939357275054697403</id><published>2008-07-14T10:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T11:10:59.755-07:00</updated><title type='text'>too old?</title><content type='html'>my kids just told me to get out because I was too old to play. urgh! and last week a bunch of kids yelled at me cause I was showing them how to cheat and take a short cu through the fence, they screamed, "Oh no! Sister Brawner just climbed throuh the fence another child yelled No. She can't she's too old."It makes me wonder if I am old. I don't feel old, I though the reason why I'm uglier is because of my Brain infection/C-section. one lady asked me what year of college I was. She sad I looked likwe a college girl, then one girl said,"you are beautiful. I want to look like you!." That made my day. but then Brooksie told me that I could do the hot dog dance like Goofy cause I'm tall and look most like goofy. If I was in the Mickymouse Clubhouse. I just got a cool idea, a rescue idea. but just as I figured out how it would work I figured out that the Tour dates were off by a year, and I was out of luck after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll keep on thinking, After I make my Gingerbread cookies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-1939357275054697403?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/1939357275054697403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=1939357275054697403' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1939357275054697403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1939357275054697403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/07/too-old.html' title='too old?'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-5756796289829733256</id><published>2008-07-11T11:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-11T11:35:45.573-07:00</updated><title type='text'>gladiator</title><content type='html'>as I watched the clip, I thought of why Nckelback wrote the perfect song for it, because Rockstars are like gladiators. but being the last one standing is the desired goal. I just put Gavin to bed ad let the kids watch "Surfs Up".h heck, I'm such a nice Mommy, they love me, but it isn't because Daddy is the custodial parent. It is because I am lucky to be alive, I cannot beat them up if I wanted to I chase Lena around cause she thinks that it is fun. But even Brooksie Said,"Cool mom,you can run." I think of "Princess Bride" a little head giggle is supposed to make me happy? I have to benice and reward them ro get then to do what is right. I use the same technique with my Children at church. I give them Jelly beans for doing something good or answering right, then they can eat the bean or put it in the jar. the jar is marked and each marking represents a cool award for the whole class, so hey get to learn a whole lot. I just had to make sure none were diabetic or anything. But they can learn a lot of lessons if they think metaphorically. the idea of giving up what you really want now for something for the whole class is a cool idea. I have to go my daughter is begging me. But I just howed her the T-Rex i Center of the Earth Trailer and she screamed and ran out, now I get to listen to Follow you home. ahh yes, I do love at song. it i good to know I am not the only oe who likes to hotwire cars or tamper with breaks. and I was really shocked to hear that&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-5756796289829733256?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/5756796289829733256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=5756796289829733256' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5756796289829733256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5756796289829733256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/07/gladiator.html' title='gladiator'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-7694792240012814542</id><published>2008-07-11T07:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T10:56:52.285-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No More</title><content type='html'>have decided to stop accentuating parts of myself to be the kind of person that I want to be. I think Regina Specktor had the right idea in the song "On the radio" she said we look inside and take what we love then love what we took, so I am tired of trying to prove that I am ideal for others, enough is enough, some people do think I am perfect for them, why must I win EVERY heart? If I be so desirable, than that it is just going to delight in the plainess and fault filled me that I am. Come what may. If another wants to win my attention is not hard to find me or win my attention. I think of a Morrisey song about bitting the right one and saying "What took you so long?" I would even like it if the desire for my affection created a little compettition. Survival of the fittest. I used to think it was immature to fight over a love, but now I see the value of strength of person not just charachter, after survivng death and beating up my husband, I don't want to be able to overpower another so they must be strong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kids are screaming, later.&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-7694792240012814542?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/7694792240012814542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=7694792240012814542' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7694792240012814542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/7694792240012814542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/07/no-more.html' title='No More'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-6144430712147873044</id><published>2008-07-10T14:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T20:37:09.879-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SHZ5ME39FkI/AAAAAAAAAwo/6niArJBdjgA/s1600-h/April2~1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SHZ5ME39FkI/AAAAAAAAAwo/6niArJBdjgA/s320/April2~1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221494066356491842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SHZ5MCoxHvI/AAAAAAAAAww/AVfelGEVw6E/s1600-h/Full.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SHZ5MCoxHvI/AAAAAAAAAww/AVfelGEVw6E/s320/Full.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221494065755922162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SHZ5MfkrpGI/AAAAAAAAAw4/4oFr9CGy3fs/s1600-h/mommy-cap.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SHZ5MfkrpGI/AAAAAAAAAw4/4oFr9CGy3fs/s320/mommy-cap.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221494073523414114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had more to say here but do not remember what it was, hmmm. My memory goes in and out, generally out before I get logged back in here. Sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-6144430712147873044?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/6144430712147873044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=6144430712147873044' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/6144430712147873044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/6144430712147873044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/07/i-had-more-to-say-here-but-do-not.html' title=''/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SHZ5ME39FkI/AAAAAAAAAwo/6niArJBdjgA/s72-c/April2~1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-6557163127915614147</id><published>2008-07-10T13:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T19:36:01.392-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Crud!</title><content type='html'>I lost the brilliant post aout Boblo Island and the fery ride as a kid, but I also talked about how I noticed that Nickelback is nd my best friend from the Tall BBS ws Hannah, the same frontwards and backwards. I prefer to name things with AH anyway like Sarah and Melissah. Anyway I also like the song by Meatloaf about rear view mirrors and thoug I prefer to look forward, I think looking back brings great wisdom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I went to Nashville to ge the kids I saw a Kroeger Sign in Gallatin, a forward thinking property delevopment company no doubt. blah blah. this has been a recap, sorry you missed out on my brilliance, I'm too tired for it now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-6557163127915614147?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/6557163127915614147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=6557163127915614147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/6557163127915614147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/6557163127915614147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/07/crud_10.html' title='Crud!'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-6018269025617131222</id><published>2008-07-06T05:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T05:24:37.601-07:00</updated><title type='text'>crud</title><content type='html'>here i was all worried that he was too young, but he s already getting married in sept 2008. but at least it is to a Marrianne. That has always been my fvorite name in spanish class my name was Marianela. I asked to be Mary Anne but my teacher said I would be Marianela, So be it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally, I started high school in Mchigan and took French, but when we moved down south I had to take Spanish, Then at Ole Miss I studied German. I still like German best, but speak Spanish the best, oh well. I wanted to go to Tia Juana when I was in San Diego, but didn't cause they sid it would be too dangerous for me, as if I didn't live the ghetto in Washington for years. Jim said he wouldn't even visit me there, the neighbor kids keyed "Volvo" in my car. Oh well, they were learning to spell, glad I could help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it was never meant to be again perhaps I should stop giving up so easily, but Nick really loves me and so does Brandall. I do not have room for another obsession unless he will come rescue me. hence is not married, but heck I'm even Married, in word only. Nick was shocked and said that s Brandall respected me he wouldn't write such mean and untrue things to me, but I figure there has to be a valid reason for after three years of divorce threats &amp; legal Seperation, we aren't divorced. My guess is that he is a loser, can't do anything right, but I give him  the benefit of the doubt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-6018269025617131222?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/6018269025617131222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=6018269025617131222' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/6018269025617131222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/6018269025617131222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/07/crud.html' title='crud'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-3961674764644498677</id><published>2008-07-05T20:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T20:37:10.487-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chad Kroeger!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SHBDF0ubLxI/AAAAAAAAAwg/7iwvXbqless/s1600-h/ck.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SHBDF0ubLxI/AAAAAAAAAwg/7iwvXbqless/s320/ck.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219745735454174994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SHBBkYO-jyI/AAAAAAAAAwY/mPKtCHAFcd4/s1600-h/chad.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SHBBkYO-jyI/AAAAAAAAAwY/mPKtCHAFcd4/s320/chad.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219744061358772002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SHBBVnd--RI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/kuw3XeOQY88/s1600-h/Nick+el+back.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SHBBVnd--RI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/kuw3XeOQY88/s320/Nick+el+back.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219743807750207762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, heres ow my obsession started. I was looking for music for Nicholas, when I kept finding stuff by nickleback, I thought, man I really like them and they are pretty insightful, too. mind you I generally steer clear of pop icons like Rob Thomas or Daniel Bedingfield, though I did like them alot, I was not a fanatic like I was about Adam Durit* , Tal Bachman, or Kevin Montgomery. but the more I loked at pictures of Chad the more obsessed I became, till I just had to learn all I could. That is quite alot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then I told Nick what I was doing and why I wasnt paying him as much attention. he refuted that He was not perfect, cause I said he was. I replied that it was only physical perfection. I am sure he has alot of flaws, like all Rock Stars, that is why I must know more. I think, gosh I know now that there are two types of love, one that is immediate and one that is lasting. I have been upset because people in movies fall in love but I dont. I find something and then turn it into love, ometimes it doesnt work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh crud. I have so much to say, but mostly I just have to say that he is beautiful, I dont care if he would never likeme it doesn't matter, Im not being realtic anyway. The song from enchanted says that most good comes from imagining what isnt until it is. I really liked what Regina Spektor said too but Ill save that for another post, right now I need to just goto sleep thinking about all of the impossibilities and how life would be any differnt if things were possible, maybe a good idea for a song!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-3961674764644498677?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/3961674764644498677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=3961674764644498677' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/3961674764644498677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/3961674764644498677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/07/chad-kroeger.html' title='Chad Kroeger!'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7RXHHbl__g8/SHBDF0ubLxI/AAAAAAAAAwg/7iwvXbqless/s72-c/ck.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-8811292597308528756</id><published>2008-07-01T07:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T08:08:42.122-07:00</updated><title type='text'>He must be retarded</title><content type='html'>I wrote a nice letter to Brandall and he wrote back Aqusing me of tons of things like being insane and a bad mother,witha whole lot of swear words. which I am not sure he even got the meaning right. He doesn't get much right though, so I must give him a break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel soory for him though because he is so petty, and especially with real, true, eternal things. one day he will be sorry, I will be sorry for him even if God treats him fairly. I think he might be retarded, and can't understand alot of things, even when hey are explained. it must be frustrating to have everything in your ife blow up and be a failure. I really hoped to change tha, but instead I just became a scapegoat. I was sick and was wrong to take offense or try t o prove him false, though nothing he says makes a whit of sense, my mom set the proper example, just indulge him, agree, sure everything is my fault. He couldn't keep a steady job because I am insane.his first marriage failed cause I am insane, His lawyer doesn't return his calls because I am insane, Everything in his life has fallen apart and he was evicted because I am just sorry and insane. I only hope to rescue tose children from him downward spiral.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I certainly hope he isn't judged the way he judges other though. He simply cannot help it. Further I hope he islucky and he neverhas a sickness like I did. I am not sure he would survive, infact much tells me that he wouldn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now youmay think that I am being faceietious in writting tis, but I am not. I only have to vent my frustration to a non person, if I am going to maintain to him that Iam insane. If I talk to too many people they will know that I am sane and fine, and he will loose all of his effort in trying to prove me mentally insane. I even went to Several psychiatrists/psyhologists who gave me tests upon test all proved I was fine and improving. so they sent me to a pysical doctor, something that I have needed for a long time, but was neglected for Brandal's job hopping, I had no insurance. the Doctor said that I had made significant improvement, though I might not think so. He said that it was unlikely that I would iprove, and to cut my losses, but mom did not agree, and I am still making improvements. I will not be physically handicapped, I will run and sing again, it is just going to take alot of effort and determination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got an idea for a movie yesterday, I think I will write it as a book first. It is about a famous person who based all of their fame on a non-permanent part like a tongue. and then they try to find every method they can to communicate, and everyone tries to guess what he means, and they are all wrong. Everyone assumes he is suffering depression because of his loss. But then he figures out a plan, to speak through words and music, in having another sing for him. It has a somewhat happy ending, it isn't a love story or is it? hmmm&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-8811292597308528756?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/8811292597308528756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=8811292597308528756' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8811292597308528756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8811292597308528756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/07/he-must-be-retarded.html' title='He must be retarded'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-8601064249182890040</id><published>2008-05-16T10:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T10:44:02.373-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mad Sister</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SQ63_1MNvoc&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SQ63_1MNvoc&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-8601064249182890040?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/8601064249182890040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=8601064249182890040' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8601064249182890040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8601064249182890040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/05/mad-sister.html' title='Mad Sister'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-3524818005529734190</id><published>2008-05-14T11:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T12:00:00.521-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Original Movies</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Avw_dcsqo7Q&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Avw_dcsqo7Q&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/b0jaUMvxxqg&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/b0jaUMvxxqg&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YqXeSEePZ-A&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YqXeSEePZ-A&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Rxu7VUPbc0w&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Rxu7VUPbc0w&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-3524818005529734190?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/3524818005529734190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=3524818005529734190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/3524818005529734190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/3524818005529734190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/05/original-movies.html' title='Original Movies'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-1520132055413741886</id><published>2008-04-25T09:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T09:48:52.479-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summary</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8Yv_PunF284&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8Yv_PunF284&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-1520132055413741886?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/1520132055413741886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=1520132055413741886' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1520132055413741886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1520132055413741886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/04/summary.html' title='Summary'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-2527672242476284674</id><published>2008-04-15T17:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T17:52:07.002-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Song</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lrVIhwyM2HM&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lrVIhwyM2HM&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/TUUgcP4P8xc&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/TUUgcP4P8xc&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-2527672242476284674?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/2527672242476284674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=2527672242476284674' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/2527672242476284674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/2527672242476284674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/04/song.html' title='Song'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-6688099302152716216</id><published>2008-04-14T07:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-14T07:20:33.857-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nicholas</title><content type='html'>ok, I decided that Even though man's time isn't God's time, I have given Brandall enough time to win me over, but he never did. I have learned that really it is true that when you place faith in something true it  is an active force, and makes things happen, miracles. Faith requires overcoming alot of fear, like in the Indiana Jones movie about the leap of faith. but putting alot of faith in something that isn't true, no matter how much fear you overcome it will do no good. Likewise I have put enormous amounts of faith in Brandall to no avail. I'm done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In conference, there was a talk about how we put up wallsaround our hearts. I guess the idea is to protect something we cherish, but instead it makes thingsharder all-around. The spirit doesn't tear down walls and shout, but asks politely in a whisper to let us in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I thought that in regards to  letter that I got. and this video:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/p3gwzzOeu28&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/p3gwzzOeu28&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I have decided that I never really loved Brandall and he knew it, so he divorced me. He was trying to do what was right, and recognising it helps me be free to go after what really matters. I have decided that I really like Nick, and I might be quite a bit scared of him, I want to learn more of him even if it means rejection. Love is worth it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-6688099302152716216?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/6688099302152716216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=6688099302152716216' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/6688099302152716216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/6688099302152716216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/04/nicholas.html' title='Nicholas'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-2896338734747862187</id><published>2008-04-14T06:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-14T07:01:02.093-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Movies</title><content type='html'>I've seen Mr. Magoriums Wonder Imporium, Never Was, 10,000 B.C., x-Men, X-men 2, and the newest Stargate movie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-2896338734747862187?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/2896338734747862187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=2896338734747862187' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/2896338734747862187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/2896338734747862187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/04/movies.html' title='Movies'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-3245371063275773387</id><published>2008-03-28T00:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T00:07:11.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Without someone</title><content type='html'>two of my favorites!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/A14P-okgZ2g&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/A14P-okgZ2g&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2MJWcICRLI4&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2MJWcICRLI4&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-3245371063275773387?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/3245371063275773387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=3245371063275773387' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/3245371063275773387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/3245371063275773387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/03/without-someone.html' title='Without someone'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-977963556620883040</id><published>2008-03-27T23:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T23:53:31.638-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/el_O43uqQ7c&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/el_O43uqQ7c&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This reminded me of a song that I wrote years ago named "Only God Knows"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When you close your eyes&lt;br /&gt;and lift your heart to god&lt;br /&gt;What do you hear?&lt;br /&gt;What do you say?&lt;br /&gt;Do you think of me when you pray?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-977963556620883040?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/977963556620883040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=977963556620883040' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/977963556620883040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/977963556620883040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/03/this-reminded-me-of-song-that-i-wrote.html' title=''/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-8886958511352762761</id><published>2008-03-22T19:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-22T19:50:16.279-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bedingfield mania</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/He9UvCe54pE&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/He9UvCe54pE&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Z5TqcNog1Fk&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Z5TqcNog1Fk&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ewcaSRoE2nw&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ewcaSRoE2nw&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8FmHS6Y-n_I&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8FmHS6Y-n_I&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-8886958511352762761?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/8886958511352762761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=8886958511352762761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8886958511352762761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8886958511352762761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/03/bedingfield-mania.html' title='Bedingfield mania'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-4009665734147990998</id><published>2008-03-22T19:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-22T19:28:09.943-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Enchanted</title><content type='html'>It was a good movie, I guess alot of people will like it because they are Patrick Dempsey fans. The highlight for me is the fact that the singer in the ball room was John McLaughlin. I notice it right away, then there was a Carrie Underwood video at the end which was good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i talked to Nicholas today and decided that I would like to get to know him, regardless of what Brandall does. I am building asolid relationship, one that I intended and is meaningful and on purpose.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-4009665734147990998?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/4009665734147990998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=4009665734147990998' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/4009665734147990998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/4009665734147990998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/03/enchanted.html' title='Enchanted'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-8482382694386151278</id><published>2008-03-11T18:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T18:03:46.231-07:00</updated><title type='text'>March Madness</title><content type='html'>I finally got to see August Rush, and realied how muchof a freak that I am, I had a dream about the heavens and harmonics and each celestial symbol represented a cadence. I thought it was so weird when I woke up, but it made sense in my sleep and I'm accustomed to not knowing what the heck I'm talking about. i used to do it all of the time at an engineering seminar. I just learned  few vocabulary words and used themalot, not knowing what or if I even meant something, especially about Atomic absorbtion, now I knew enough about paper chromatography to toss around concepts, like I did when I wrote a research paper about Beethoven's Immortal Beloved the movie, which I had never seen, but I dwelled largely on the movie madeus and tlked alot about the other historical fictions that I was familiar with. I got the only A in the class, mostly because of my reputation for being a good sudent, what I couldn't say oe know was supplied by the reader in my behalf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have had so many similar situations with the internet. like now I'm listening to the song "Soulmate" by Natsha Beddinfield and it remonds me of many lyrics I wrote thinking that If they could be heard by the right person, Something magical would happen! because I thought that it would put me in the spotlight. Plus, I believed fully that by being in the right place at the right time, like August Rush believed, that I would be read and understood. well, Everyone I tried to marry I met that way online, then, one lady told me her story, she said tht it was vry importnt that I understnd her,at last I do. She warned me that I would fall in love with traits that I love, but they were not the whole, that ws the mral to her life. I find the moral to my life story in that of Eve. he could've lived forever in a perfect placebeing always happy, but instead gave it up so that she would know how good things seem when you want them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my life has been nearly perfect, but I was oblivious to it, for that reason I am glad to have been made so low through divorce, illness, etc. now if I ever got a similitude of my oldlife back,I would apprecite it all the more, whereas I never pprecited mny things, but the ones tht I couldn't have. I'm still working on learning to want what I have it is sort of like my last big step.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that I will mold my heart to what my mind says, cause my heart wants to be with Brandall but it is obvious to my mind that he doesn't want me and I and all my family would be happier if I just moved on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I was listening to the Blue October song "Sorry hearts" and it made me think that it was observed for other reasons, yet my conclusion is tht we all wnt to be perfect but fall short nd so feel sorry. I just hve to sort out why I ought to ignore my heart's constant warning to love Brandall, though it makes no sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7:57 PM 3/11/2008&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-8482382694386151278?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/8482382694386151278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=8482382694386151278' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8482382694386151278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8482382694386151278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/03/march-madness.html' title='March Madness'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-1750402138213745926</id><published>2008-02-29T07:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-29T07:51:04.933-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What if...</title><content type='html'>I got to thinking about how different the world would be if people chose to do differently than was intended, if things were intended. For instance, what if Eve decided not to eat the fruit? or Peter not to deny Christ or CHrist not to suffer for all mankind? let alone all the little things like my parents, what if mom decided not to marry dad?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This thought was caused by thinking about Lost SEason 1, and my children. I wonder if that is why Heavenly Father wants us to stay together, I had my children though, and I love Brandall he just won't love me, so I give up, I think sometimes the reason he married me was because of the uniqueness of me not giving up when anyone in their right mind would. I love Nick and He loves me, End of story. I believe that we would be happy together.  anyday, I don't even have to be told that I'll get it, like the sernoMaybe I married Brandall as preparation. Everyone keeps tellingme that they know Heavenly Father loves me. I know that, too, but why won't he just send an angel or something? I really want to do what is right, I am willing to endure great and terrible things, it just seems un fair sometimes, that's why I think the adversary must have some claim. I think of Job, and how Satan tried to tempt him, but he stood firm, amid everythig. I think of Martin Harris alot and how he plans of God will not be frustrated, so if I fail, things will still happen as they should nothing depends on me, but for my sake anyway. Well, I would trade mortal happiness for eternal blisshat then? It seems to me that I will still have everything I wanted or planed for in this life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;right now there are many obstacles in my way, but that It couldbe a destination is very conforting. I just wish Brandall would tell me that he knows that he should divorce me.then I would know what to do. I certainly don't want to mess with the eternal plan of things. I need to have more hope and walk by faith. Everythings going to be alright, somehow. It just doesn't change my current anguish.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-1750402138213745926?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/1750402138213745926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=1750402138213745926' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1750402138213745926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1750402138213745926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/02/what-if.html' title='What if...'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-2386734352812289039</id><published>2008-02-23T06:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-23T06:46:42.818-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank you for the music!</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/WauFkb4jmCI&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/WauFkb4jmCI&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-2386734352812289039?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/2386734352812289039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=2386734352812289039' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/2386734352812289039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/2386734352812289039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/02/thank-you-for-music.html' title='Thank you for the music!'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-1971467807384438777</id><published>2008-02-22T06:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-22T06:32:51.503-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Requiem for a dream music on piano</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/V6SAuHY9HOs&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/V6SAuHY9HOs&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-1971467807384438777?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/1971467807384438777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=1971467807384438777' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1971467807384438777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1971467807384438777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/02/requiem-for-drem-music-on-piano.html' title='Requiem for a dream music on piano'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-8004867524766832160</id><published>2008-02-22T05:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-22T06:06:15.736-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Order Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SnMYEJAuk54&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SnMYEJAuk54&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/--pSWLEVGhY&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/--pSWLEVGhY&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/og1HAkjOuL0&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/og1HAkjOuL0&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/xezmxnScGS4&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/xezmxnScGS4&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/TtO7epCba54&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/TtO7epCba54&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/w77T0AncLKo&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/w77T0AncLKo&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-8004867524766832160?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/8004867524766832160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=8004867524766832160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8004867524766832160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8004867524766832160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/02/new-order-or-joy-division-who-cares.html' title='New Order Day'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-4862730957448258505</id><published>2008-02-20T08:52:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-20T09:16:28.973-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Contact</title><content type='html'>I wrote a very long post here then lost it! Urrrgh! Mostly I just felt the need to comment on various thoughts about themovie, but you'll never know now. I really liked the part where she said, "Words cannot describe. They should've sent a poet. it's so beautiful" and the part where Palmer says that Science and religion are both ultimately looking for the same thing, truth. then Ellie grips his hand. That is so cool!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-4862730957448258505?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/4862730957448258505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=4862730957448258505' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/4862730957448258505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/4862730957448258505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/02/contact.html' title='Contact'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-9063156549585443988</id><published>2008-02-19T13:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T13:44:11.189-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Frickin Brilliant! or Brickin Frlliant.</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/aXJVxmWTmkg&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/aXJVxmWTmkg&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-9063156549585443988?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/9063156549585443988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=9063156549585443988' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/9063156549585443988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/9063156549585443988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/02/frckin-brilliant-or-bricken-frlliant.html' title='Frickin Brilliant! or Brickin Frlliant.'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-5272710306792741314</id><published>2008-02-19T12:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T12:46:37.357-08:00</updated><title type='text'>suicide viable solution?</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/yfHMNh04p3A&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/yfHMNh04p3A&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/iVuK55_U8s4&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/iVuK55_U8s4&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;these videos will probably help others, but they don't apply to me. I'm not a teenager, and No one does undrstand. I went through therapy and everything. all people can say is that I should be fine, WEll, I'm not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I juswant to make progress. the thing that keeps me from killing myself is my belief in God, that I will be held accountable, there is no way to redo or escape, I don't like my struggle, but I won't give up and let Satan win. I just want to Know something. I am tired of believing. I watched that stupid DNA vs. the BoM video, but was entirely unimpressed with science. I am a withering flower, I need my nourishment! If my husband would quit being an idiot I would be ok. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to take charge of my own life, everyone else is messing it up. urrrgh! that makes me want to quit. I don't even know what I can do. there must be something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-5272710306792741314?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/5272710306792741314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=5272710306792741314' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5272710306792741314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/5272710306792741314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/02/suicide-viable-solution.html' title='suicide viable solution?'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-6013957982348803114</id><published>2008-02-17T17:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T17:27:00.289-08:00</updated><title type='text'>truth</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/6xmni7dDzTA&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/6xmni7dDzTA&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-6013957982348803114?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/6013957982348803114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=6013957982348803114' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/6013957982348803114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/6013957982348803114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/02/truth.html' title='truth'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-2214440849641548906</id><published>2008-02-17T06:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T18:55:10.726-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Joseph Smith</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/zGDAtNRAX8c&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/zGDAtNRAX8c&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Hy1EBLix6dA&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Hy1EBLix6dA&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I posted more about how science cannot argue with faith. learning is good, but cannot yet explain thing which are known, yet there are alot of secret truths which are not yet known.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-2214440849641548906?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/2214440849641548906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=2214440849641548906' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/2214440849641548906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/2214440849641548906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/02/faith-is-never-addressed-duh.html' title='Joseph Smith'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-1059259234106655797</id><published>2008-02-16T13:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-16T13:35:34.205-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Brandall, what?</title><content type='html'>Yes, I have a lot of Brandall related thoughts, sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My children were just visiting me, how nice, huh? Brandall wrote me a horrible messsage in which he was very mean. but Ironically Peter Pan had sent me a vase of Flowers for Valentines day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I had two thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;I asked Lena what she would do, Move to Nashville or Utah, She said Nashville wiithout waiting today, but then I asked her why, she said that I belong with Daddy. He has a ring just like mine for when we got married. But she wanted me to take her to see Utah. Then I told her that Dddy didn't like me though, whih really should even be a concern of hers. So she explained simply, to get a new house and ask daddy if he wants to come and he doesn't hate me he will come. Brilliant child! anyway, I got to thinking, well, techincally there is more to a marriage tham living together. Charlote's web Wilbur said, "I think there is more to being friends than just living in the same place." So, I need to figure out what is more important beng in love or making my children happy, why can't they be the same thing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched a movie about Joseph Smith, and was impressed that he felt the same way about the Gospel as I do about men, there's got to be an answer for me there. I thought to take what was good from everyone to mae the idea of the man I was looking for then I'd know when I met him, instead of trying to convince myself to be happy with whomever I choose. Cause even while Brandall was giving me computer parts, they weren't his in the first place and I bet it wasn't even his idea to give them to me.&lt;br /&gt;I thought, but Utah Boy really loves computers just like me, and he would be perfect for me. Still I tend to give Brandall the benefit of the doubt because He has oenly acused me of being over analytical, so maybe I ought to take things at face value, he is supposedly simple and dumb, anyway, maybe I am looking too deeply for reasons. Maybe he just really does love me. though I see no reason for it. I know that God previously on every account has remained constant in telling me that Brandall is the one for me, enter my strangest idea of all time, referred to as "My seceret" in my poetry. I think I would fall in love completely with others like Peter Pan, which would be determental to my purpose. I am just being given what I ask for after all. It wasn't expected that I would need to fall in love yet, plus, there are plenty of songs, stories, examples that teach about failure in love before finding the right one, and again, with everything else I have done, it is becommming popular to get divorced and idolized as courageous, or something equally stupid, in an attempt to make what is good for one person, good for the cookie-cutter of all people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just figured out that I am perfect the way I am, and the best advice that I ever got was that I would be attracted to many others desirious of qualities they posesed yet it would not be the whole. once again, I think that is alot like the Gospel. I need to study that out to find my answer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-1059259234106655797?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/1059259234106655797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=1059259234106655797' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1059259234106655797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/1059259234106655797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/02/brandall-what.html' title='Brandall, what?'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-6025194527129860333</id><published>2008-02-06T19:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T19:22:20.511-08:00</updated><title type='text'>beauty</title><content type='html'>I finally figured it out, andfound peace and it was free. sort of.&lt;br /&gt;because I had the video of LIttle women, and I read the teachinga of Jesus again, they are wonderful! I found such happiness in his teachings, it was like truth that I had beenliving and wanted to be completely for years, clicked. mostly hesaid that even in greatness Solomon couldn't be as beautiful as the ravens or flowers. I think that God is mindful of me and I ought not to worry about my appearance, anything lacking will be taken care of my the Lord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little women pointed out several times that true beauty is a mind and eyes, not the nose or face. I really oaidattention to how they valued for most practical reasons the value of brilliance. I picked out two quotes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THere is more to you than this, If you have the courage to write it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"her blessings become a burden because she couldn't share them with anyone."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel such peace and release, I will just learn moreand obey what I know to be good, and be ths rewarded.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-6025194527129860333?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/6025194527129860333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=6025194527129860333' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/6025194527129860333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/6025194527129860333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/02/beauty.html' title='beauty'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-737113626773954638</id><published>2008-02-06T08:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T08:51:27.474-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Think on this</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/TQ_DYD3YEtc&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/TQ_DYD3YEtc&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How old are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/D-SsF_5p71o&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/D-SsF_5p71o&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weird stuff in the mail. Brando Signature...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qh7KTLAxmZk&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qh7KTLAxmZk&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-737113626773954638?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/737113626773954638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=737113626773954638' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/737113626773954638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/737113626773954638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/02/think-on-this.html' title='Think on this'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-8808597979361284445</id><published>2008-02-05T19:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T19:15:49.618-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday</title><content type='html'>1) my husband&lt;br /&gt;2) skills&lt;br /&gt;3) ideas&lt;br /&gt;4) music&lt;br /&gt;5) movies&lt;br /&gt;6) good friends&lt;br /&gt;7) prayer&lt;br /&gt;8) ability to believe&lt;br /&gt;9) dreams&lt;br /&gt;10) a healthy body&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-8808597979361284445?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/8808597979361284445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=8808597979361284445' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8808597979361284445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8808597979361284445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/02/tuesday.html' title='Tuesday'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-4799611340183304694</id><published>2008-02-05T19:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T19:13:01.360-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Things to ponder:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) why do we CRY unto God from our closets?&lt;br /&gt;2)What would you do if you could do anythng?&lt;br /&gt;3) Which is more powerful love or money?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-4799611340183304694?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/4799611340183304694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=4799611340183304694' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/4799611340183304694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/4799611340183304694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/02/things-to-ponder-1-why-do-we-cry-unto.html' title=''/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-2118973242114357339</id><published>2008-02-03T17:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-03T17:15:58.818-08:00</updated><title type='text'>6 Degrees = Global disaster?</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/O8qmaAMK4cM&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/O8qmaAMK4cM&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes me think of the frog in the kettle, or the movie "the Blob" it seems sensational enough to make a great story, but I think that if people are prepared for the changes they'll be fine. I think it it pretty normal for the Earth to change.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-2118973242114357339?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/2118973242114357339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=2118973242114357339' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/2118973242114357339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/2118973242114357339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/02/6-degrees-global-disaster.html' title='6 Degrees = Global disaster?'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-2309201869113204096</id><published>2008-02-03T17:03:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-03T17:03:47.657-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Leave a Legacy</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Vbi4nSrhRxo&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Vbi4nSrhRxo&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-2309201869113204096?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/2309201869113204096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=2309201869113204096' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/2309201869113204096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/2309201869113204096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/02/leave-legacy.html' title='Leave a Legacy'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-2798607520530268740</id><published>2008-02-03T17:01:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-03T17:01:31.222-08:00</updated><title type='text'>More Confessions</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/R2Y3vAC1lB0&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/R2Y3vAC1lB0&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-2798607520530268740?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/2798607520530268740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=2798607520530268740' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/2798607520530268740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/2798607520530268740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/02/more-confessions.html' title='More Confessions'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-4536085959877271575</id><published>2008-02-03T06:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-03T06:46:18.017-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dashboard confessional</title><content type='html'>no, thi isn't EMO. just thought about the truth of it, Killing some time. oops.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-4536085959877271575?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/4536085959877271575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=4536085959877271575' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/4536085959877271575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/4536085959877271575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/02/dashboard-confessional.html' title='Dashboard confessional'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-2215162268081967138</id><published>2008-02-03T06:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-03T06:45:03.331-08:00</updated><title type='text'>you tube defined</title><content type='html'>youTube is like a situational dictionary. it is to communicate or understand by representing in video each situation that occurs in our minds, now we have the tools to communicate volumes online.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the analogy of words helps use it, itwill help you understand why I post so many videos. I guess I could just use words to represent a situation and string them out to e read, but at times a video just hits me so and I think, it is too perfect,Like Mozart's music, nothing needs to be changed or added it is perfect in itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to speak in videos, whic is funny because they use words. i particulrly like to speak in music. i guess that's what opera does. when I was a kid I would imagine eac instrument being a person, and a symphony was delightfu to hear them all talk, in the movie Amadeus, Mozart (tom hulce, actually) said that it can only be done in opera, in any other occasion multiple voices at once just make noise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it is natural to want to put poetry to music. that is how I taught my sisters everything. And I gave my daughters a cd for a present, cause I wanted to teach them princiles, that were in a song, if they listen they will memorize and it will always be with them. Music has touched me and savedme when voice alone or words alon couldn't do the trick, look at Music Therapy. or the popularity of Morrissey ok, bad examle. I know that i'm not normal,neir popular, nor is morrissey, but I used him to demonstrate how beautiful words become when sung.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my bestfriends loved his voice, but quoted his lyrics all the time andalways fund occasion. I personallynever caredfor his voice until after yrears spent listening to him, now it is familiarity that I love. I must also admit that upon first listen, I hated Daniel Beddinfield's voice, but I love hissongs so I listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now,back to youtube, i think peole are wiser, may it is just me, but now lyrics have to say something, if you read comments on you tube or look for your favorite artist everyone finds a different clip or situation to attach it to. The comments are always about the lyrics fitting nicely or not, but there are alot of things where people just interact with out song, Cartoons, sockpupets, interviews, movies, etc. They all help to define our video language.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't communicate with out their help right now. but never fear, someone has spent hours slaving over trying to make a certain point and my only job is to direct the viewer to it to make my point. I am a babe in the use of this new langugage, but I enjoy learning it. plus, I am thankful for he outlet. I was stuck, like a bird in a cage for too many years, trying to make things work. but now I can run in the woods, er fly I mean, an&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-2215162268081967138?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/2215162268081967138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=2215162268081967138' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/2215162268081967138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/2215162268081967138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/02/you-tube-defined.html' title='you tube defined'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5644235853194790524.post-8436709034314919271</id><published>2008-02-03T05:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-03T06:00:44.509-08:00</updated><title type='text'>hmmmm.... alot to think about here</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oqNmYwxK2Z4&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/oqNmYwxK2Z4&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/g0PSl9pH59k&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/g0PSl9pH59k&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/by3FVKdaQyE&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/by3FVKdaQyE&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Bto7l3cKhvk&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Bto7l3cKhvk&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5644235853194790524-8436709034314919271?l=melissababcock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/feeds/8436709034314919271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5644235853194790524&amp;postID=8436709034314919271' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8436709034314919271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5644235853194790524/posts/default/8436709034314919271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://melissababcock.blogspot.com/2008/02/hmmmm-alot-to-think-about-here.html' title='hmmmm.... alot to think about here'/><author><name>Melissah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04298802932133648912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/Melisssah/th_nashville.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
