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  <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love</id>
  <title>Girl In A Box</title>
  <subtitle>You, always you...</subtitle>
  <author>
    <name>quartney_love</name>
  </author>
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  <updated>2009-11-12T05:56:59Z</updated>
  <lj:journal userid="14177044" username="quartney_love" type="personal"/>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:69190</id>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-11-11T21:53:00</title>
    <published>2009-11-12T05:56:59Z</published>
    <updated>2009-11-12T05:56:59Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0004a1qr/"&gt;&lt;img height="232" width="320" border="0" alt="" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0004a1qr/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left"&gt;I&amp;nbsp;always go after the ones I feel like I have to impress- it's getting annoying now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met someone, kind of. &lt;br /&gt;I wait around the science building&amp;nbsp;in between classes, just in case I could hold the door open for her. &lt;br /&gt;We'll wait and see how this all plans out.&lt;br /&gt;However, I don't see a good outcome. &lt;br /&gt;Foolish.&lt;/div&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:69036</id>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-11-08T21:04:00</title>
    <published>2009-11-09T06:16:30Z</published>
    <updated>2009-11-09T06:24:33Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;I&amp;nbsp;don't feel like writing anything- I'm just gonna throw in pictures, you can figure them out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/00040zfp/"&gt;&lt;img height="240" alt="" width="320" border="0" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/00040zfp/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/00042wcy/"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" style="width: 306px; height: 240px" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/00042wcy/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/00043p8f/"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" style="width: 320px; height: 250px" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/00043p8f/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0004127p/"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" style="width: 300px; height: 251px" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0004127p/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0004580z/"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" style="width: 320px; height: 251px" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0004580z/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/00046akb/"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" style="width: 320px; height: 250px" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/00046akb/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/00047fgy/"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" style="width: 317px; height: 245px" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/00047fgy/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/00044511/"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" style="width: 183px; height: 246px" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/00044511/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/000494q1/"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" style="width: 180px; height: 246px" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/000494q1/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:68750</id>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-11-01T21:57:00</title>
    <published>2009-11-02T06:03:21Z</published>
    <updated>2009-11-02T06:03:21Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003z85z/"&gt;&lt;img height="240" width="360" border="0" alt="" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003z85z/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Girl, &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; We were heros once upon a time.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:68451</id>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-10-28T21:42:00</title>
    <published>2009-10-29T07:04:11Z</published>
    <updated>2009-10-29T07:04:11Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003xcce/"&gt;&lt;img height="240" alt="" width="240" border="0" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003xcce/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She roared like a lion. &lt;br /&gt;We once roared like young lions. &lt;br /&gt;Life is funny- in a &amp;quot;that sucks&amp;quot;&amp;nbsp;kind of way. I heard people can't be happy, because we're so use to everyone having better- there's always better and we can't wrap our heads around the idea that being&amp;nbsp;fine is okay.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;wonder about you and your car accident late at night. I&amp;nbsp;wake up from flinching so hard in my sleep and I&amp;nbsp;squeeze pillows and blankets to make it seem better. I want to fall asleep at the wheel like you did, just to&amp;nbsp;finally sleep like you did. &amp;nbsp;A commotion, no screaming brakes. Out your window, the horizon does flips. Was the worst part hitting the ground- Not the feeling, but the&amp;nbsp;sound?&amp;nbsp;I remember people standing around with mouths open wide and I heard some idiot ask if someones inside. Like the jaws of life they tried and tried. Did you already know it was over, because you've never seen so many lights? Anyways, it's been so long ago... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've heard so many voices. They only speak in words and I only have understandings. &lt;br /&gt;She likes to hold up lights to my face to see a different shade on me- She starts to sing whenever she hears a song.&amp;nbsp;I know a song, but no one sings a long. &lt;br /&gt;(I miss your hollering)&lt;br /&gt;It's the same ol' story.The struggle of fear and love. I wish I could make the world stand still- To make it feel like raspberries in June. When a garden is just getting going. To feel like the coolest kid on the first day of school. Let's just shut up for a second to make things clear and new. I remember chasing you through Iris fields, picking the purple ones because they smelled the best and we would lay in those fields for hours until street lights buzzed on. Your hair reminded me of fresh honey. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you awoke to fireworks, because I&amp;nbsp;can't stand the thought that you're gone. &lt;br /&gt;Why am I still sleeping?&amp;nbsp;I'm a plastic girl on a plastic bed- I like to think that you're sleeping too. I like to think that you're dressed up when I'm standing still. It's so unexpectedly predictable that anymore that comes along gets pushed away. I must have a rhythm here, because all I have is a heartbeat. I'm taking advantage of sixty beats a minute&amp;nbsp;inside these ribs&amp;nbsp;and with you it was another sixty. Forgive me, I'm just an animal. It's the work of the ugly to highlight the beautiful, so maybe I was right for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This change can't be predicted just like the wind. I ran off to suck on pollen and breathe with the raccoons for the night- believing I could feel anything, but how I felt for you and you and you. I can make rivers float driftwood and you're solid as a cloud. I've got&amp;nbsp;two feathered things under my skin, but I'm too afraid to&amp;nbsp;let them out.&amp;nbsp;I'm like a volcano and your body was just a moment in my time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You kissed so deep, I could feel you in my toes. &lt;br /&gt;Am I just some scribbled old note- Will you think of me when you watch your favorite movies. When you send out your family christmas cards and put up your tree. &lt;br /&gt;As long as you're happy. &lt;br /&gt;(As long as you are happy.) &lt;br /&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:68334</id>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-10-28T15:55:00</title>
    <published>2009-10-28T23:01:55Z</published>
    <updated>2009-10-28T23:01:55Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;should of known. Go ahead and chase after the one's that have time for you right now- at least I'm making something out of myself. I&amp;nbsp;believed in you and I never meant to let you down, but I&amp;nbsp;think you always meant to put me down. I tried to hold you and unfold you, but&amp;nbsp;you left me with an ache in my heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003wyc6/"&gt;&lt;img height="182" width="320" border="0" alt="" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003wyc6/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;(And all you did was make me sad anyways...)&lt;/div&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:67943</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://quartney-love.livejournal.com/67943.html"/>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-10-26T17:07:00</title>
    <published>2009-10-27T00:09:55Z</published>
    <updated>2009-10-27T00:09:55Z</updated>
    <content type="html">I want to write &lt;br /&gt;I want to write &lt;br /&gt;but I&amp;nbsp;don't know what to say. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;want to live&lt;br /&gt;I want to live&lt;br /&gt;but I&amp;nbsp;don't know where to start. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to dance &lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;want to dance&lt;br /&gt;but I&amp;nbsp;don't know which song. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to love&lt;br /&gt;I want to love&lt;br /&gt;but I&amp;nbsp;don't know who you are.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:67769</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://quartney-love.livejournal.com/67769.html"/>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-10-09T23:55:00</title>
    <published>2009-10-10T07:48:10Z</published>
    <updated>2009-10-10T07:50:29Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003th7e/"&gt;&lt;img height="240" alt="" width="240" border="0" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003th7e/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For You (Whoever you are...),&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I&amp;nbsp;want the sound of my life to comfort someone else. Will you grow up to be you? Could I turn into your void- lost without the sound of our voices&amp;nbsp;or just the sound of something in the air?&amp;nbsp;Tell me your half diluted stories and I'll decide for myself when&amp;nbsp;to tell the world of your heart and how beautiful things can&amp;nbsp;be. I have hope that you'll keep your love for the world even if you'll be too down for it. I'll hold my&amp;nbsp;heart knowing you were&amp;nbsp;someone else's girl- vacuum this mess for you to give us sound of mind.&amp;nbsp;I have to talk to you just to fill my air.&amp;nbsp;You have to care for me just to keep&amp;nbsp;it&amp;nbsp;together, such as a flower or seed. If we fall, we'll get up. If it's cold, we'll stay warm. Let's just sleep and I'll speak so sweet. If you're stuck in a dream, I'll wake you up. If you drown, I'll pull you to shore. Save you from all the alligators- one hand to fight, one hand to float.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; We'll leave in the middle of the night, sleepy eyed- just to feel the cold bus stop air and we'll whisper what love feels like. I'll take you anywhere you want to go. Drive you all the way back home or rush you through hospital doors. Our&amp;nbsp;nights easily&amp;nbsp;blend into mornings.&amp;nbsp;A definition of us&amp;nbsp;would be the first sight of&amp;nbsp;you with me. I&amp;nbsp;want to&amp;nbsp;stay here between us and forget where I'm bond.&amp;nbsp;Are you just here to read&amp;nbsp;my future? Am I just forced to breathe out the past-&amp;nbsp;There's too many conversations to uncover...&amp;nbsp;We always talk like we're alone and it's true, I don't listen to anything else, but you. Slow thumping of&amp;nbsp;your foot tapping against your seat- your legs rubbing together when you sleep- the sighing when you feel better and I always hope you do (and you do.)&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Our phone calls&amp;nbsp;will never be answered&amp;nbsp;plainly and you'll whisper when someone else is around. I'll memorize the look of your shoes in case I lose you in a crowd. Smell your hair in case I go blind.&amp;nbsp;I'll explain I never expected&amp;nbsp;you, but since we met trees&amp;nbsp;started growing, fishes&amp;nbsp;started swimming, and birds started singing again. You can call me on the phone to announce you're feeling confused and dazed- I'll have you write down your planned life and make it a promise of mine.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Rest&amp;nbsp;our eyes and wake up just to be in love again. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:67388</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://quartney-love.livejournal.com/67388.html"/>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-09-26T15:14:00</title>
    <published>2009-09-26T22:16:30Z</published>
    <updated>2009-09-26T22:16:30Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003sat3/"&gt;&lt;img height="250" width="375" border="0" alt="" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003sat3/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someday I'll build this for us... Whoever you are.&lt;/div&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:67164</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://quartney-love.livejournal.com/67164.html"/>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-09-25T23:04:00</title>
    <published>2009-09-26T06:06:47Z</published>
    <updated>2009-09-26T06:06:47Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&amp;quot;Will you promise me something?&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Yes.&amp;quot;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Promises are important, ya' know?&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;No.&amp;quot; &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Well, they are.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Okay.&amp;quot;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;I dont think we'll ever see each other again.&amp;quot;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;That's the promise?&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Yes.&amp;quot; &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Not if I don't see you again first.&amp;quot;&amp;nbsp;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:66860</id>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-09-25T19:01:00</title>
    <published>2009-09-26T02:03:08Z</published>
    <updated>2009-09-26T02:03:08Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003r82x/"&gt;&lt;img height="240" width="198" border="0" alt="" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003r82x/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;I&amp;nbsp;just want to fall asleep with you...&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;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right"&gt;How do I&amp;nbsp;tell her?&lt;/div&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:66614</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://quartney-love.livejournal.com/66614.html"/>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-09-22T03:08:00</title>
    <published>2009-09-22T10:31:44Z</published>
    <updated>2009-09-22T10:31:44Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003phdk/"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" style="width: 361px; height: 255px" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003phdk/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left"&gt;I leave to go crabbing on the boat in four hours and I can't sleep- I haven't been able to sleep for two days now. There's nothing wrong, no odd change in diet, no lack of something, and I still work out every night- I can only conclude two things:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;I naturally can't sleep, or...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I think way too much, my mind won't shut off.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I&amp;nbsp;wanted to share this scone&amp;nbsp;recipe I came up with: &lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cinnamon&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Chip Scones&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003qfz6/"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img height="240" alt="" width="300" border="0" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003qfz6/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ingredients: &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2 cups flour &lt;br /&gt;2 tsp sugar &lt;br /&gt;1 tsp baking soda &lt;br /&gt;1/2 tsp salt &lt;br /&gt;1/2 tsp Cinnamon&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1/4 cup shortening &lt;br /&gt;2 Tbsp Chocolate Chips&lt;br /&gt;3/4 cup milk and 2 tsp cream of tartar (more liquid if needed)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Instructions:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Heat the oven to 425&amp;deg;F (220&amp;deg;C) and grease and flour a baking sheet. Sift the flour into a bowl with the sugar, Cinnamon,&amp;nbsp;baking soda and salt. With your fingers or two knives, work in the shortening until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Stir in the Chocolate Chips and make a well in the center of the mixture. Stir the cream of tartar into the buttermilk or milk and add to the well. Stir lightly, just until the dough clings together. It should be soft and sticky, so add more liquid if necessary.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;On a floured board knead the dough lightly for 1 minute. Pat it to 1 in cm thickness. You can be creative with the shape of your scones. If you want more traditional, go with a circular baking pan for triangular scones. I used a regular square *cooking sheets are too thin* pan and sliced the baked scones into bars.&amp;nbsp;Melt a bit of butter to paint across the top of your dough&amp;nbsp;(for golden brown scones) and sprinkle sugar lightly over the top. Transfer to the preheated oven for about 15 minutes, until lightly browned and a skewer inserted in the center comes out clean.&amp;nbsp; =] My family loved them!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:66375</id>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-09-19T14:31:00</title>
    <published>2009-09-19T21:32:37Z</published>
    <updated>2009-09-19T21:32:37Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003hcx5/"&gt;&lt;img height="144" width="192" border="0" alt="" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003hcx5" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...I agree.&lt;/div&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:66196</id>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-09-17T00:19:00</title>
    <published>2009-09-17T08:29:05Z</published>
    <updated>2009-09-17T20:12:07Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;50th Date &lt;/strong&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;My mom hands me her 50th birthday party invitation, &amp;quot;Number 3 of 80!&amp;quot;. She's excited, she's &lt;em&gt;been&lt;/em&gt; excited. A huge final birthday party, basically saying after this one- no one really cares... All I&amp;nbsp;can think is, &amp;quot;Damnit, I&amp;nbsp;need a date.&amp;quot;&amp;nbsp;I know of one, perfectly. I can't ask for myself though. Even if you&amp;nbsp;might be&amp;nbsp;suited for me, we'd fit into each other through the night. I won't ask you. It's been so long, I don't know what to say.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;I've traveled here, but with jokes aside- I&amp;nbsp;want to come back home. You know at night, when you say you have to go- I'm hoping you'll wait till I say 'no'. Will you ever marry?&amp;nbsp;Will you ever have those kids? I know I'm bad to jump&amp;nbsp;on you like this, somethings don't change. If I wrote you letters, I'd always run out of space. If you go away on this Summer day, you might as well take the sun away. The birds that flew when hearts get high, when the day was young and the moon stood still. If you stay, I could make you a day. If you go away and I know you will- you must tell the world to stop turning, till the next 'hello'. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; You're like me- we're both floating. What's the problem? Bad things... Sad things... They&amp;nbsp;have to happen. You're like snow melting in my mouth, until my head hurts. If something makes you happy, won't it make you cry? You confuse me all the time... If we're not dying right now, shouldn't we do all the right things?&amp;nbsp;You'd be the sweetest thing to touch my skin and did you know that longing only makes&amp;nbsp;me shiver? Maybe you've been living lonely. Your friends tell jokes that aren't that funny. You've failed everything that comes&amp;nbsp;to mind. Hold on heart, don't beat so loud. Hold on eyes, don't blind me now.&amp;nbsp;Hold on lips, don't break a sound.&amp;nbsp;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:66031</id>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-09-16T15:22:00</title>
    <published>2009-09-16T22:23:08Z</published>
    <updated>2009-09-16T22:23:08Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003g5tw/"&gt;&lt;img height="185" width="320" border="0" alt="" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003g5tw/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:65785</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://quartney-love.livejournal.com/65785.html"/>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-09-16T02:45:00</title>
    <published>2009-09-16T09:57:14Z</published>
    <updated>2009-09-16T09:57:14Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;go through these odd phases, where I &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; want a girlfriend and where I&amp;nbsp;really don't want anything. Lately, I'm stuck in the middle. I think I&amp;nbsp;just want to make someone&amp;nbsp;really&amp;nbsp;happy (insanely happy). Someone to hear from all the time, to buy things for, write messages on my arms to remind me of them, talk someone to sleep, memorize the feel of an arm around a waist...&lt;br /&gt;I hate how sometimes girls smile at me and my throat feels frozen. I&amp;nbsp;want to ask &lt;strong&gt;you&lt;/strong&gt; on a date, but can't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm ready to find &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt;- where ever you are. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003f7ke/"&gt;&lt;img height="213" alt="" width="320" border="0" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003f7ke/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;^ We could have this too.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left"&gt;&lt;u&gt;P.S.&lt;/u&gt; And I&amp;nbsp;hope you get here in time for Christmas, I'd ask for my birthday, but that would just be pushing it.&lt;/div&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:65489</id>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-09-16T02:42:00</title>
    <published>2009-09-16T09:44:14Z</published>
    <updated>2009-09-16T09:44:14Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003ec7p/"&gt;&lt;img border="0" style="width: 272px; height: 246px" alt="" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003ec7p/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left"&gt;Well, are you?&lt;/div&gt;</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:65153</id>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-09-15T19:01:00</title>
    <published>2009-09-16T02:07:51Z</published>
    <updated>2009-09-16T02:07:51Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Here, The Now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left"&gt;Emily: Soo...&lt;br /&gt;Me: Sooooooo...&lt;br /&gt;Emily: Yeahh, you're being short. I'm gonna' go.&lt;br /&gt;Me: I'm sorry! I&amp;nbsp;just don't know what to talk about! &lt;br /&gt;Emily: I'll let you go then. &lt;br /&gt;Me: You're being kinda mean. &lt;br /&gt;Emily: What the fuck!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left"&gt;Me: Yeah dude... &lt;br /&gt;Emily:&amp;nbsp;How?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left"&gt;Me: You're getting all pissed, because I have nothing to say. &lt;br /&gt;Emily: Well, yeah? You have nothing to say to me...What's the point?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Alright, bye.&lt;br /&gt;Emily: Ugh, whatever Quartney.&lt;br /&gt;*3 minutes...*&lt;br /&gt;Me: Wanna makeout?&lt;br /&gt;Emily: Yes. Fuck, yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:64981</id>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-09-14T01:16:00</title>
    <published>2009-09-14T08:17:18Z</published>
    <updated>2009-09-14T08:17:18Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003df3h/"&gt;&lt;img height="211" width="320" border="0" alt="" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003df3h" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left"&gt;...Shit.&lt;/div&gt;</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:64711</id>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-09-12T16:26:00</title>
    <published>2009-09-12T23:37:22Z</published>
    <updated>2009-09-14T08:17:46Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Birthday Cake&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I got chewed up and used, now I&amp;nbsp;don't really&amp;nbsp;know what to feel.&amp;nbsp;Ugly, mostly. &amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;I'm wondering if the people I come in contact with have a reason- if they're all building up for me to meet someone good. I have a feeling I'm over this whole relationship thing- maybe I should just let myself hop around from girl to girl just like every other lesbian. Too bad I'm too awkward to do that. Besides that, Friday nights party made me realized why I liked Portland in the first place: The girls, the people, the styles. All of what I don't have and that's why I didn't fit. Now, I'm just scared out of my mind to be stuck in Albany all my life like the rest of my family. After college, I hope I move back to Portland.&amp;nbsp;I'm just stuck in a shell... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003brxq/"&gt;&lt;img height="240" alt="" width="226" border="0" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003brxq/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:64338</id>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-09-10T20:46:00</title>
    <published>2009-09-11T04:26:22Z</published>
    <updated>2009-09-11T04:34:58Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Minor Prophets&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Hey there coffee girl, so beautiful and disaffected- It&amp;nbsp;was prefect till I came along and wrecked it. &lt;br /&gt;We played my favorite mix, Cat Power with your classic Beck.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;Was it perfect before&amp;nbsp;she came along and wrecked it?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I think I've been as&amp;nbsp;touchless as a drunk. I've figured it out- love is a curse to people, so they pick the ones they can't desert- not necessarily for love in most situations, just comfort. The one's that try are the ones that deserve it. I&amp;nbsp;felt frozen when I&amp;nbsp;saw her.&amp;nbsp;I drained the ocean in search&amp;nbsp;of words. Maybe we're like God's representatives- here to hurt and learn how not to hurt. For some, we're taught to love first. When she can't sleep, she plays with tiny pieces of my hair, but I&amp;nbsp;can't understand why I still pretend to be asleep. There's a struggle and I&amp;nbsp;still feel the same. If we apologize, there's applause, but that would just hurt our ears. Everyone is talking, so you must have something to say to me? &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Under my pillow, I bury my head and try to shut these girls out.&amp;nbsp;However, there's a whole world of other sounds of perfect hums and howls- I&amp;nbsp;can almost remember her laugh again. Under this pillow, there's little room to breathe and I can see the start of a pale morning. Are you going through something?&amp;nbsp;Because I&amp;nbsp;am too. Around you, I was driven. Eyes always moving, new work to lounge in- I'm serious, I'd sell a giraffe and give you half. Don't laugh, I'd do these things to occupy my time. No smiling! That's important with you, around me. Your face strong like a mask. I can hear you saying you can't stay here- Don't you want to see how we'll end (again)?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003a43e/"&gt;&lt;img height="205" alt="" width="320" align="middle" border="0" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003a43e/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:64039</id>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-09-01T00:15:00</title>
    <published>2009-09-01T07:52:51Z</published>
    <updated>2009-09-01T07:52:51Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disappearing Acts&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;can't hear my own confessions and I can't figure out my mistakes. I'm usually not one to speak up, but my&amp;nbsp;decisions lately have been messed up. I kick myself to sleep.. Did you hear about me?&amp;nbsp;Maybe only half of it is true, but are you ashamed and disappointed? I'll tell you, but that only means I have to get to know more of you- I just rather keep myself steady here. Life is like grabbing car keys, before knowing where you're going. I can't help, but to blame myself for my long face. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; Portland is still the same after awhile, however I know more things- better roads, better meals, better people. Mac and Allison came to town, happiest thing to have happen in a long time. I missed them to death. All I wanted to do was to throw my selfish hands around them and beg them to move back home- They begged me to move to Montana...It sounds tempting. My apartment is empty and painfully white, I rather shut my eyes and slam the door. I know someday I'll move back there, when times are&amp;nbsp;softer and when I have a good woman to share something with. Everything I touch turns to shit and everyone I try to love won't hear of it. My hands are overflowing with the things I want to give (does anybody want it?) I&amp;nbsp;don't know what's wrong with me, but I&amp;nbsp;wish it was something else. I've been mapping it all out and maybe they find girls who care about themselves- ones that aren't at the bottom of the bottom. There's no button I&amp;nbsp;can't push and lightening strikes before emptiness (There's no one there for me to miss...) Does anybody want me?&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;spent most of my Portland days with Bryanna, I&amp;nbsp;think maybe we are wild about each other. She tells me that we're like Stephane and Stephanie from The Science of Sleep ever since we watched it together. Her and I are a mess, in a good way, in a confusing, uncomfortable way, but we can't seem to escape each other. Her friends think she &amp;quot;down graded&amp;quot; with me. I&amp;nbsp;feel miserable and sick- a fool. I haven't been called ugly since high school... I think I want to crawl back into my hole and hide forever. Bryanna said her friend's are just jealous. I&amp;nbsp;think I'm brave for allowing people to read one of the most embarrassing part of my Summer-maybe even year. It proves I shouldn't keep her- she must be crazy or maybe blind, I am shocked that I&amp;nbsp;still receive messages from this girl (that is a thousand miles out of my league...) saying she wants nothing more than me- And I&amp;nbsp;believe her, I do. I&amp;nbsp;fear soon enough she'll come to her senses and break her promises- I'll understand. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; School starts in 27 days and I'm worried I won't be ready for anything. Ever. My mom's condo is still too hot to function. I'm nothing exciting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I&amp;nbsp;have no fucking idea what I just wrote or talked about- I'm half awake and probably having a heat stroke in my own fucking bed.</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:63886</id>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-08-16T00:26:00</title>
    <published>2009-08-16T07:29:05Z</published>
    <updated>2009-08-16T07:29:05Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003913g/"&gt;&lt;img height="239" width="320" align="middle" border="0" alt="" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/quartney_love/pic/0003913g/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On nights like this- &amp;nbsp;I wonder where you are, who ever you may be...</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:63576</id>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-08-12T16:16:00</title>
    <published>2009-08-13T00:00:21Z</published>
    <updated>2009-08-13T00:00:21Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I&amp;nbsp;thought this could be a good beginning- A start from moving into that huge two story house&amp;nbsp;after we got the news our&amp;nbsp;offer&amp;nbsp;was approved. &amp;quot;Congrats! The house&amp;nbsp;is yours!&amp;quot;&amp;nbsp;Getting comfortable with being single. Starting at a better college and breaking my shell to make new friends. &lt;br /&gt;In reality- We lost that house and mom won't get off the couch or stop crying. Being single would be nice, if I&amp;nbsp;didn't realize I would feel even more lonely living here- when my mom has been too depressed to bring up conversation or offer to go anywhere, do anything for days. I'd die for a little puppy to keep me company in this storage room that I've made a bed in, surrounded by stacks of boxes that I can't even pull my things out of. &amp;quot;So I can't get a dog?&amp;quot;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;Nope.&amp;quot; &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;How about a bunny?&amp;quot; &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;No.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;A fish?&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;quot;They smell.&amp;quot;&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;can't do art anymore without my mom mentioning it's all too messy and I can't stand or sit up too long while upstaires, because the lack or air conditioning in small places makes me dizzy and sick. I wanted to start off bragging how everything was so amazing, I've made the right choices, I'm happy- but I can't lie, not even to myself. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; My best friend is my bed. I know every part of it. The loose top left corner, how my feet perfecting lay at the very bottom when my head lines up to the top, the wrinkles that form down and over the corners. I am only good laying&amp;nbsp;here with blankets covering up to my knees. I've counted 13 new freckles on my right arm and I&amp;nbsp;try to relax my thoughts just enough to think about something nice. A girl, maybe. The one, maybe. Skin like milk and honey. Long brown almond hair that pulls out and curls to the sides when she lays down&amp;nbsp;as I&amp;nbsp;do. She wears white at night, because it makes her lips look deeper by morning, maybe.&amp;nbsp;I pick and pull at my skin when I lay here, wondering if I got skinner. I feel my rib cage, and wonder if they stick out wider. I&amp;nbsp;wonder&amp;nbsp;if I&amp;nbsp;would feel better if everything stuck to my bones. I'm wondering if I&amp;nbsp;think too much. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Do I have enough guts to let myself take a down fall? I can't remember the last time I showered and makeup has been out of the question. It doesn't seem to matter, when you don't see anyone anymore. I think I'm my own Edie Bouvier. It's getting harder to be excited about anything or anyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;regret that this is all true and that I wrote it here.</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:quartney_love:63337</id>
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    <title>quartney_love @ 2009-08-09T17:18:00</title>
    <published>2009-08-10T00:19:16Z</published>
    <updated>2009-08-10T00:19:16Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-large"&gt;Starting Over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content>
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