<?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-14519543</id><updated>2012-02-16T13:09:46.496-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost in the Muse</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>24</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-1448358640877852808</id><published>2007-07-03T10:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-03T11:02:06.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Independence</title><content type='html'>I have a friend who is British, but lives in the US.   I asked him what he was doing for the 4th.  He responded, "Its just another day."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Technically, he is correct.  It is just another day.  Just another day for Americans to remember the whole point of the origins of our country.  Just another day to look at the person across from you and think, I'm glad we're in this country, in this place, where we can disagree without shooting each other (mostly).  Just another day to remember that we have the right to disagree with our government and have our words heard.  It is just another day.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But like any other holiday, the meaning has gotten obscured by commercialism.  Fireworks retailers chuckle madly and rub their hands together as the money rolls in.  Food, Alcohol and Fireworks...its the American way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I have friends who have "stood on that wall" between our country and the rest of the world.  I might not agree with the administration that put them there...but I respect and appreciate the dedication to their country that put them on that wall. &lt;br /&gt;To them, I say "Thank you!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-1448358640877852808?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/1448358640877852808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=1448358640877852808' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/1448358640877852808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/1448358640877852808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2007/07/independence.html' title='Independence'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-1988559862131659400</id><published>2007-04-03T07:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T07:23:23.397-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Some Beach</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i80.photobucket.com/albums/j168/mizparker/kbeach1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just trying out a newish feature.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-1988559862131659400?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/1988559862131659400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=1988559862131659400' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/1988559862131659400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/1988559862131659400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2007/04/some-beach.html' title='Some Beach'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-789225975130677587</id><published>2007-04-03T06:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T06:59:24.687-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow Days</title><content type='html'>Gunmetal clouds obscure what little I can see of the sky from my basement daytime abode.  The denizens of my area grow restless as weather reports begin.  Snow, snow snow.  Its no longer a matter of whether it will snow, but rather how much and when.  Unfortunately, the snow will not begin soon enough to cancel work, school or anything worthy of being canceled.  Instead, the snow only means that I will be staying home tonight.  It won't even rate leaving work early.   *sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fond memories of childhood snow days assail me.  Days when the snow blanketed everything, and you no longer heard traffic.  Instead, the only sound would be the shushing of snow through trees, and your siblings squabbling in the corner.  Who knows why...and here comes the wiffle bat.  Its no longer a surprise to me that my parents have gray hair.  In retrospect, I'm not sure how they survived our childhood.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-789225975130677587?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/789225975130677587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=789225975130677587' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/789225975130677587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/789225975130677587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2007/04/snow-days.html' title='Snow Days'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-6871871590293365361</id><published>2007-03-30T13:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-30T13:18:02.868-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Passive Voice</title><content type='html'>If you asked my sister what is wrong with today's youth, she would tell you "Air conditioning and microwaves are the ruination of man!"  Though I think those inventions definitely made life too easy for the general population, I disagree that they are the "ruination of man".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Passive voice is ruining today's youth.  If you read their scholastic papers, or writings in the school rag, you will find a commonality: the use of passive voice.  The use of passive voice allows the writer to feel comfortable, and distant from the topic.  Oddly enough, it also allows the writer to slip any blame or accountability off their plate, and if not onto someone else...at least under the table.  That lack of ownership is pervasive and debilitating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-6871871590293365361?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/6871871590293365361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=6871871590293365361' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/6871871590293365361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/6871871590293365361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2007/03/passive-voice.html' title='Passive Voice'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-116656398016962359</id><published>2006-12-19T13:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-19T13:33:00.183-08:00</updated><title type='text'>solstice</title><content type='html'>The name is derived from &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Latin" title="Latin"&gt;Latin&lt;/a&gt; &lt;i&gt;sol&lt;/i&gt; (sun) and &lt;i&gt;sistere&lt;/i&gt; (stand still), because at the solstice, the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sun" title="Sun"&gt;Sun&lt;/a&gt; stands still in &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Declination" title="Declination"&gt;declination&lt;/a&gt;, that is, it reaches a maximum or a minimum(distance from the equator).&lt;br /&gt;(definition courtesy of Wikipedia)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As daylight fades, and nighttime lengthens I ponder impoderables.  Have I lived a life worth living?  No, that question does not equate a death wish!  Simply, I wonder to myself If I have done everything that I should have done.  Or, have I shrunk back from life's challenges?  Honestly, I think I have done a bit of both.  I know that when it comes to experiencing the romantic side of my life, I have fallen short of the ideal.  Perhaps I am set in my ways and not open to my options.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is anyone, really?  Or do we have to be metaphorically "knocked up-side the head" to even find love?  Cupid...stop with the arrows...try throwing rocks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, on the longest night, I will stand still (hopefully, not declining!). Perhaps I will hear in the silence that resides there...an introduction to my options.  At the very least, I hope I see the sun  returning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-116656398016962359?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/116656398016962359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=116656398016962359' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/116656398016962359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/116656398016962359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2006/12/solstice.html' title='solstice'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-116414233071650677</id><published>2006-11-21T12:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T12:52:10.730-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Regret</title><content type='html'>Peter S. Beagle wrote "The Last Unicorn".  In that book, the main character is a unicorn...the last unicorn.  Unicorns have, amongst their many intriguing talents, a lack of regret.  I really identify with that trait.  I do not wish to regret my life, or any part of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until recently, I attempted to live without regrets and have been largely successful.  But something about lengthening nights gives me time to ruminate about my life, and things that I actually do regret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I regret not sending out more cards to friends at holidays...God knows how much I enjoy them, it is time to return some of that feeling to others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I regret saying "No" more often than "yes".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I regret that it took me six years to learn fallability.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I regret missed opportunities.  It is so difficult to look back and realize that if I'd only had my eyes and heart open, my life could have taken a completely different path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, words of wisdom about regret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;When one door closes another door opens; but we so often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us. &lt;/span&gt;  -Alexander Graham Bell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.&lt;/span&gt;  -Harriet Beecher Stowe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable.&lt;/span&gt;  -Sydney J. Harris&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I can say...bring on longer days, they chase the melancholy away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-116414233071650677?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/116414233071650677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=116414233071650677' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/116414233071650677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/116414233071650677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2006/11/my-regret.html' title='My Regret'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-116309438170179074</id><published>2006-11-09T09:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-09T09:46:21.746-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Submit and accept</title><content type='html'>Submit, meaning to yield.  Accept, meaning to endure without protest or reaction.    These are arguably two of the most difficult words in the English language.  Taken at first blush, the terms are simple, elegant even.  These concepts find their most common habitat in religion.  "Submit to the will of God" or "accept life's challenges as gifts from God, not obstacles in your way."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, taken out of a religious context, these words still evoke powerful response.  Our society reveres those who struggle, who refuse to yield.  We constantly root for the underdog who fights to win past insurmountable odds(eg. Rocky Balboa).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To submit does seem powerless, at first.  That is, until you recognize that to submit is a choice, an action to be taken.  Having a choice gives you power.  Accepting that choice with grace and determination only lends more power to that choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think upon Voltaire's Candide for a moment.  The final lines of which are&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a concatenation of all events in the best of possible worlds; for, in short, had you not been kicked out of a fine castle for the love of Miss Cunegund; had you not been put into the Inquisition; had you not traveled over America on foot; had you not run the Baron through the body; and had you not lost all your sheep, which you brought from the good country of El Dorado, you would not have been here to eat preserved citrons and pistachio nuts." &lt;p&gt;"Excellently observed," answered Candide; "but let us cultivate our garden."  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-116309438170179074?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/116309438170179074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=116309438170179074' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/116309438170179074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/116309438170179074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2006/11/submit-and-accept.html' title='Submit and accept'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-116128217719942429</id><published>2006-10-19T11:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-19T11:22:57.240-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Meditations on Truth and Honesty</title><content type='html'>Can honesty be taken too far?  How far is that distance?  Is it where a spoken truth reaches deep inside, roots about in your gizzard, right next to the cockels of your heart? Perhaps on its journey through your innards, that truth even changes your perceptions of the world around you.An uncomfortable feeling to be sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not talking about simply making a true statement of fact.  Anyone can do that, and still remain comfortable to their companions.  I am referring to the type of truth that resonates something deep in the human soul and speaks of a common condition.  Truth can expose things better left hidden, truth can heal, truth can harm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Truth is a monster under the bed, you can ignore it most of the time, but when you are alone and vulnerable, it is there...waiting for you to acknowledge it.  It requires strength of character, intestinal fortitude and moral fiber to face truth, acknowledge it, and let it change you for the better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-116128217719942429?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/116128217719942429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=116128217719942429' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/116128217719942429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/116128217719942429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2006/10/meditations-on-truth-and-honesty.html' title='Meditations on Truth and Honesty'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-116120119375373480</id><published>2006-10-18T07:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-18T12:53:13.813-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quote for the Day</title><content type='html'>and sometimes, its not about whether you need something or not...just whether or not you can have it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-116120119375373480?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/116120119375373480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=116120119375373480' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/116120119375373480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/116120119375373480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2006/10/quote-for-day.html' title='Quote for the Day'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-116109485731464651</id><published>2006-10-17T07:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T07:20:57.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things you can learn watching movies</title><content type='html'>Last night, I watched two movies.  "Take the Lead" with Antonio Banderas and "Silver Hawk" a campy, martial-arts filled comic book hero movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I lay awake at night, thinking about these types of things...Here are some lessons to be learned from watching movies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Let's learn from Take the Lead  first.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Antonio has "plenty of play".  Ok, that's not really a life lesson, but it does have to be said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you learn to respect someone, it is difficult to hate that person.  WOW!  The answer to world peace, right in front of your eyelashes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, making the right decision is painful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Following takes as much strength as leading.  To follow, you must make a choice to let someone else make the decisions..Necessary skills: trust, respect.  Difficulty rating: 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ok, and now for what we can learn from "Silver Hawk"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little girls can be mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wearing a mask that only covers half of your face doesn't really protect your identity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are trying to take over the world, don't advertise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are trying to take over the world, you need really good henchmen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are the bad guy, you need to have a self-destruct sequence...bonus points if you can kill the superhero.  Too bad those points are only good if you survive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Black is the new black for bad guys...some things never go out of style.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-116109485731464651?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/116109485731464651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=116109485731464651' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/116109485731464651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/116109485731464651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2006/10/things-you-can-learn-watching-movies.html' title='Things you can learn watching movies'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-115895000686719084</id><published>2006-09-22T11:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-22T11:33:26.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>May you lead an interesting life</title><content type='html'>I want to be bored.  No, really, I think it would be great if I could be bored.  Life has been to interesting lately.  Everything from a bubbling paint job on my car to getting thrown from my horse into a metal fence panel...and many things in between.  Some of my friends say I just attract trouble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm, well, that's all I seem to attract. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it all began when I made the mistake of informing my mother that I was "bored"...I think I was about 10 years old.  Its ok for 10 yr olds to make mistakes, right?  Oh, boy, was that ever a mistake!  Dear Mother gave me a list of about 20 things I could do to keep me from being bored...and made me do all of them.  I haven't been bored since. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does that make it my Mother's fault that I can't get a boring life?  Yes, that's what I should do!  Blame my problems on my parents!  Ah, that won't work, I've been out of the house for too long now.  I really am pretty self-sufficient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it comes to assigning blame, can I really blame myself?  I don't think so.  I'm not actively seeking trouble...and I definitely want an even keel in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I've been cursed.  Cursed to lead an interesting life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-115895000686719084?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/115895000686719084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=115895000686719084' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/115895000686719084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/115895000686719084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2006/09/may-you-lead-interesting-life.html' title='May you lead an interesting life'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-115132970210237141</id><published>2006-06-26T06:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T06:48:22.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Guidelines for writing a good Craigslist personal ad...advice for men.</title><content type='html'>Guys, I’m going to give you a hand. I read these personal ads you write in hopes of finding that rare gem…a guy I would actually consider dating. I’ve responded to a few ads and been disappointed. I’m not bitter, and I’m not going to rant about any of that. I am going to give future posters a clue about what information really needs to go in an ad, so that they can get the right woman’s attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember that you are “selling” yourself, so be positive. A personal ad is not a good place to air out your bad experiences. All that tells your readers is that you are bitter, and probably not ready for a real relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give at least THREE pieces of information about yourself. I’m not talking about height, weight and hair color here. Girls really want to know if you are employed, and that you can hold down a job. Before you whine about greedy materialistic women who just want a man for the money, consider that holding down a steady job means that you have more going for you than just money…you are loyal, hardworking, and bonus points if you have an interesting job. Or maybe you went to college. Now, its nice if you have your PhD, but what we really want to know is that there is more going on in your head than the latest stats for your favorite team. If you have a quirky or fun fact about you, include that. We like knowing that a guy has a personality, and that he isn’t afraid to show it in public.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be realistic about your expectations. I really doubt that women like Angelina Jolie would actually scan the “men for women” section of craigslist. Saying that you want a ht/wt proportionate woman actually is a turn off, because it shows how shallow you are, and that all you are really looking for is a quick romp. If that’s what you want, be honest about it. Keep in mind that if you are really looking for long term, most women who start out skinny and cute end up with a few extra pounds after a while. It happens. It also happens that you will get love handles, and lose your hair, and if you’re lucky, you will find a woman who doesn’t mind...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you really have a shopping list of requirements for your prospective date…wow, what can I say to these guys? Get a life. The more requirements you have, the less likely you are to actually get a response. A girl will get turned off by a man who is a control freak before she even meets him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your pic gets mine….HAH! Girls who read this line know what that means. We know that means you want a chance to scope out the girl before you respond. It means that IF the girl is cute enough, skinny enough, etc then, and only then, will you respond. Put your picture out there, what are you afraid of? Ok, maybe you don’t want coworkers to see you. That’s fair. But don’t lay all of the risk on the woman either. At least have the courtesy to say why your picture isn’t up, and respond politely to her, even if she isn’t quite what you were looking for. Would you want to walk up to a girl out on the street and have her tell you “You are not good looking enough for me to even give you the time of day?” Yeah, I didn’t think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and to the guys who are married and looking for a relationship on the side, for you I have a special message. Get real! What kind of woman actually wants to step into that? You’ve already proven that you cannot be faithful. Ish. You are the pile on the sidewalk that I step around, because I don’t want the stench following me. To the girls that read these ads, I hope you know better than to touch that with a 10ft pole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let us now consider the use of ALL CAPS.   THIS PRACTICE IS CONSIDERED SHOUTING WHEN USED ONLINE.  It also means you either don't know enough about your computer to fix the problem, or you just don't care about common usage of capitalization.  Either way, for using all caps you should get an all expense paid vacation back to Elementary School, so you can learn how to capitalize properly.  Good luck, you already failed to learn that once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To the person trying to pay $6K for a girlfriend for the summer: WOW!  Already you have a strike against you.  That first strike is telling any woman reading your ad that you want to pay them, not only to be your companion, but that for the money, you also expect intimacy.  No woman should want to feel like a whore.  If that is what you want, skip writing the ad, boyo.  Go straight to your local hooker and explain what you want.   What is that?  Oh, hookers cost more than you want to spend.  Cheapskate.  Whining about how you "never had any kind of relationship, and have spent all of your saturday nights alone" isn't helping you.  If you really want companionship,  why don't you try writing an ad like this one:  "I've been single too long!  Ready to spend the next saturday night pleasing you."  Then, go ahead and describe the ideal date.  Silly boys.  Try being specific instead of coy.  Coy is our job.  Boys aren't very good at it anyway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-115132970210237141?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/115132970210237141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=115132970210237141' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/115132970210237141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/115132970210237141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2006/06/guidelines-for-writing-good-craigslist.html' title='Guidelines for writing a good Craigslist personal ad...advice for men.'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-114666636277494680</id><published>2006-05-03T07:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T07:26:02.793-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fake it til you make it!</title><content type='html'>At the request of someone who shall remain nameless...but will understand anyway, here is a new post.  The title was her idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feeling under-confident, nervous, less than fresh?  Don't know what to do?  Pretend that you do know, or pretend that you are confident, calm and in control.  If you pretend long enough at whatever it is that you wish to be, or to become...it will happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, if you pretend that you are the President of the United States...oh wait, that works too!  Just look at George Bush, or Hilary Clinton.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-114666636277494680?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/114666636277494680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=114666636277494680' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/114666636277494680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/114666636277494680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2006/05/fake-it-til-you-make-it.html' title='Fake it til you make it!'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-113949899630881308</id><published>2006-02-09T07:10:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T07:29:56.310-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaves on Dark Water</title><content type='html'>Have you ever seen leaves on a river at night?  For a moment, it looks like they may touch and be joined together on their journey down the river, until they become so waterlogged that they sink.  But at least they are not solitary for their nocturnal travel.  But as you watch, maybe the wind blows, or there is a ripple you couldn't see...and the leaves slowly drift apart.  And the leaves are separate once more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For that moment, when the leaves are about to touch, it seems as if the world holds its breath.  Maybe God lays a wager to  see if the leaves will touch, or spin away from each other.   The river ripples, the wind blows.  The leaves touch, briefly, and glide away from each other.  They spiral into the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I would like to know is...who won the bet?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-113949899630881308?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/113949899630881308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=113949899630881308' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/113949899630881308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/113949899630881308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2006/02/leaves-on-dark-water.html' title='Leaves on Dark Water'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-113949871205625782</id><published>2006-02-09T07:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T07:25:12.070-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Karma</title><content type='html'>I like to think that God believes in Karma. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really have any evidence to base this belief on, just a hope that justice doesn't only happen in the afterlife.  Maybe I want to believe it because I'm impatient.  I want justice now, so that I can skip to the next phase of my life.  I've been angry, I've grieved, and now I just want to be past it...but I have this yearning for the scales to come even again.  My favorite readings from Early Brit Lit included "Dream of the Rood"...for those of you who don't know, a rood is the tree that Christ was nailed to.  In that story, the image of Christ isn't the kinder, gentler Christ portrayed today.  He is a Warrior-Hero, and his quest is to save the world.  Justice is his sword.  I like that image.  Maybe I'm just blood-thirsty.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-113949871205625782?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/113949871205625782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=113949871205625782' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/113949871205625782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/113949871205625782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2006/02/karma.html' title='Karma'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-113586645453632453</id><published>2005-12-29T06:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-29T06:27:34.553-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Liars and Cheaters</title><content type='html'>I have met my fair share.  But none can compete with the man who used to call himself my boyfriend.  Of course, he was boyfriend to several other girls over the six years of our relationship.  So, at what point did he think that his behavior was ok?  I just don't understand how you can say you love someone, while you are loving someone else?    The girl who informed me has been his girlfriend for the last two years is telling me how much better she feels after talking to me.  She doesn't seem to understand how every word that drops from her mouth shoots straight into me like a dagger.  I now understand the term "walking wounded" so much better today than I did two days ago.  It would be so much easier if the words were daggers, I would heal faster from a knife wound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here's the real kick in the pants...he wants to stay friends with me!  But a friendship based on lies is no friendship at all.  Without trust, that type ( or any type really) of relationship dies off pretty quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happens when you don't water a garden?  It dies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-113586645453632453?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/113586645453632453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=113586645453632453' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/113586645453632453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/113586645453632453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2005/12/liars-and-cheaters.html' title='Liars and Cheaters'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-113526302932910293</id><published>2005-12-22T06:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-22T06:50:29.346-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shackles raised</title><content type='html'>Have you ever noticed yourself stepping back when you should have stepped up?  I do it all the time.  I am held back by the little lurking gremlins that whisper in the sub-basement of my mind where all of my favorite neurosis are stored.  They linger there, waiting for the moment I need them the least.  Just when I think that I have all my little ducks swimming in a row, and can finally feel confident that things will work the way that I wish them to, I am locked in place.  Unable to move.  Shackled.  Held prisoner by the gremlins raised on my own fears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, lets look at dating.  If I see a comely young (or not young) lad, can I walk up to him and tell him?  Not at all!  I'll content myself with watching.  If you never expose yourself to failure, in that you can be successful.  But then you live a hollow life, filled only with "might have beens" and "if only's".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each fear is a link in the chain.  Each failure is a key, turning the lock. &lt;br /&gt;How long is your chain?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-113526302932910293?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/113526302932910293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=113526302932910293' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/113526302932910293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/113526302932910293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2005/12/shackles-raised.html' title='Shackles raised'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-113079051835599583</id><published>2005-10-31T12:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T12:28:38.370-08:00</updated><title type='text'>All Hallow's Eve</title><content type='html'>Its Halloween!  One of my favorite days of the year, full of manic mahem, candied delusions, costumes and fun.  It is amazing how free people feel when they take up a mask or costume.  The disguise frees them from the constraints of their "normal" self and allows them to explore the possiblities of  the "other" self that they now occupy.  William Shakespeare often explored this theme.  In his "As You Like It", Rosalind uses her disguise as Ganymede to be close to Orlando.  Well, there's more to it than that, but try reading the play, you'll learn more that way(I love heroic couplets).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-113079051835599583?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/113079051835599583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=113079051835599583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/113079051835599583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/113079051835599583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2005/10/all-hallows-eve.html' title='All Hallow&apos;s Eve'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-112895340637954214</id><published>2005-10-10T07:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-10T07:10:06.396-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Until from Dreaming wakes</title><content type='html'>But what if you never sleep?  How would dreaming occur?  I don't sleep anymore, or at least I don't dream.  The future is a murky morass, looming ahead of me.  The beacon of my dreams has gone dim, and I have no steering remaining to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How very "Zen" this moment is; since I have no future to dream about, I can live wholly in the moment.    But is the clarity of the moment worth sacrificing a vision of the future?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I wonder, does scripting my thoughts into the written word shape my current state of affairs and then make it mundane?  Have I hollowed out my life and made it into a paltry shade of what it could be?  Instead of dreaming, I write.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-112895340637954214?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/112895340637954214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=112895340637954214' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/112895340637954214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/112895340637954214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2005/10/until-from-dreaming-wakes.html' title='Until from Dreaming wakes'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-112627560150276970</id><published>2005-09-09T07:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-09T07:20:01.530-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Toe the line</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I have noticed a disturbing trend in students lately.  Their quality isn't what it used to be. Oh, there have always been party-er's, and marriage minded girls...but, by and large, students went to college to LEARN.  They aspired to be great in their fields, not only to garner a better wage, but for love of knowlege.  When the bare minimum isn't enough, and eyes are on the prize with the hand out reaching for it...those are the people I want to be counted among.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But recently, I have seen too many step back, or just toe that line of acceptable worth, when they should be striding across it and leaving it behind.  Is this new temerity simply a sign of the times?  Are we as a people becoming reluctant to approach greatness?  Maybe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-112627560150276970?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/112627560150276970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=112627560150276970' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/112627560150276970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/112627560150276970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2005/09/toe-line.html' title='Toe the line'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-112299153758403418</id><published>2005-08-02T07:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-02T07:05:37.590-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Future on Hold</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Sit still, take a breath. You are now a time traveller. Effortlessly, like taking that breath, you have moved into the future. One second, one heartbeat at a time. How does it feel to have the future rushing relentlessly through you, over you, around you? Did you forget your towel? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I'm not arrogant enough to wish to travel back to the past. Think of how many mistakes you could make, irreparably harming the future. Or would it be harm? Your future would then change...and the events leading you travelling might not happen, would you then become "stuck" in the past? Bend your brain around that conundrum. Would you even realize that you had done it? Or would you just start to flow with the movement of time, breathing your way into the future, without even knowing?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-112299153758403418?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/112299153758403418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=112299153758403418' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/112299153758403418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/112299153758403418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2005/08/future-on-hold.html' title='Future on Hold'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-112264631493582788</id><published>2005-07-29T06:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-29T07:11:54.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aging embarassment, or lack thereof</title><content type='html'>Another day is another number added to the pile of days before it, and I realize this one thing to be true: its really hard to embarass me anymore.  When did embarassment die?  It might have died in the numerous falls from horses(in front of people, so there was no way to overlook the spills, chills and thrills, much less forego even mentioning those events).  Or maybe I don't get embarassed because I just don't care anymore.  About the only time I feel embarassment is for other people, because they are doing things...but feel no remorse for their actions.  For example:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have seen too many giggling coeds down at the local watering holes, pushing on each other as they hunt for an available male.  All I can think when I see those predatory girls is:  How embarassing!  To totally subsume my personality into the social expectations, that would be a slow death of self.  Yet these girls at ecstatic at the opportunity to prove that physical attraction is more important than actually knowing and respecting your future partner.  Perhaps they are right, since the liason they are after is exceedingly temporary.  When the duration of the encounter is one night only, to be followed by at least a week of recriminations and gossiping friends...perhaps the physical is the only quality to persue...at least then you may have some bragging rights. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To those girls, I wish good hunting.  To the males in this town, I wish good luck...hiding!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-112264631493582788?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/112264631493582788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=112264631493582788' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/112264631493582788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/112264631493582788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2005/07/aging-embarassment-or-lack-thereof.html' title='Aging embarassment, or lack thereof'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-112171888251184311</id><published>2005-07-18T13:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-18T13:34:42.520-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Procrastinator's Creed</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 8pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;I would like to preface this list with the admission that I did not write it.  If, in fact, I had been given an assignment to write this list, it would still be on my desk, waiting for me to notice it.  To whomever wrote this beautiful list:  THANK YOU!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;1. I believe that if anything is worth doing, it would have been done&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;already.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;2. I shall never move quickly, except to avoid more work or find excuses.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;3. I will never put off until tomorrow, what I can forget about forever.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;4. I shall meet all of my deadlines directly in proportion to the amount&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;of bodily injury I could expect to receive from missing them.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;5. I firmly believe that tomorrow holds the possibility for new&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;technologies, astounding discoveries, and a reprieve from my obligations.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;6. I truly believe that all deadlines are unreasonable regardless of the&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;amount of time given.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;7. I shall never forget that the probability of a miracle, though&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;infinitesimally small, is not exactly zero.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;8. If at first I don't succeed, there is always next year.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;9. I shall always decide not to decide, unless of course I decide to&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;change my mind.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;10. I shall always begin, start, initiate, take the first step, and/or&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;write the first word, when I get around to it.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;             &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;11. I obey the law of inverse excuses which demands that the greater the&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;task to be done, the more insignificant the work that must be done prior&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to beginning the greater task.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;12. I know that the work cycle is not plan/start/finish, but is&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wait/plan/plan.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;13. I will never rush into a job without a lifetime of consideration.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;MS Sans Serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-112171888251184311?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/112171888251184311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=112171888251184311' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/112171888251184311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/112171888251184311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2005/07/procrastinators-creed.html' title='Procrastinator&apos;s Creed'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14519543.post-112144478248409401</id><published>2005-07-15T09:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-15T09:26:22.486-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Lost</title><content type='html'>I realized today that I have wasted my education.  That comment doesn't mean I don't use my education.  But somewhere between the memos and reports the creativity that formerly drove my writing has been squeezed out.  So now, I am lemonade.  This blog will be an attempt to journal, and practice my art.  Bear with me, and enjoy  getting Lost in the Muse&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14519543-112144478248409401?l=lostinthemuse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/feeds/112144478248409401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14519543&amp;postID=112144478248409401' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/112144478248409401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14519543/posts/default/112144478248409401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lostinthemuse.blogspot.com/2005/07/getting-lost.html' title='Getting Lost'/><author><name>KLyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00819108737848235616</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
