<?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-6856089812151732871</id><updated>2012-02-16T06:58:44.166-05:00</updated><category term='cats'/><category term='blog'/><category term='love'/><category term='j'/><category term='sister'/><category term='run away'/><category term='family'/><title type='text'>Why Be Less? You can B-more.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://graypeacoat.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6856089812151732871/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://graypeacoat.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kate</name><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>4</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856089812151732871.post-347469419765323631</id><published>2008-04-16T01:11:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T01:57:10.400-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sister'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='run away'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>run away</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;My 15 year old sister disappeared again tonight. She has a habit of "running away" whenever she's home alone with my mom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last week was the first time she ever ran away while she was with me. She stole my cell phone and my ATM card, called a cab and tried to get to Annapolis (all while I was still asleep). Fortunately she couldn't figure out the pin for my ATM card, and the cab driver wouldn't take her Annapolis- so she ended up back at the house. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight, though, she took off when my mom tried to get her to do school work- probably around 6 o'clock. We haven't seen her since then. I guess she called from a pay phone in Dundalk at some point, but then she disappeared again. My dad and I spent 2 hours driving around that area looking for her. No luck. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We always find her. She's never been missing overnight. I don't know which is scarier, that she's out on her own tonight or that I don't think I'm going to miss any sleep over it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;PS. Driving home on Eastern Avenue I saw a dead kitty in the middle of the road. I almost started crying. Then I almost started crying again because I realized that I was more upset about a dead cat than I was about my sister being lost. I'm a great person. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;(disclaimer: There's so much back story on the subject of my sister, that it's not worth getting into. Please don't judge. You don't have all the facts.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6856089812151732871-347469419765323631?l=graypeacoat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://graypeacoat.blogspot.com/feeds/347469419765323631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6856089812151732871&amp;postID=347469419765323631' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6856089812151732871/posts/default/347469419765323631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6856089812151732871/posts/default/347469419765323631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://graypeacoat.blogspot.com/2008/04/run-away.html' title='run away'/><author><name>Kate</name><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-6856089812151732871.post-914360242874049472</id><published>2008-04-11T01:30:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T01:40:14.686-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='j'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cats'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>the cats</title><content type='html'>When my now ex-boyfrie&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B-Eecm39bPw/SAWOSW-YO2I/AAAAAAAAAFU/nbjhwgerb6M/s200/babies.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189710591670369122" /&gt;nd J moved out of the dorms and into a house with his friends, they realized that their uncleanliness, coupled with city living in an old house was an invitation for rodents. I suggested a cat as the best way to keep down the mouse population. I think it's better than cleaning up traps, and all that stuff. It seems a little more natural to me. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, J found two cats on &lt;a href="http://www.craigslist.org/"&gt;craigslist&lt;/a&gt;. Their owners were moving to a new place where pets were prohibited. AND the one cat looked just like a cat I had when I was growing up, named Jim. Well, J saw this cat and I guess he thought it'd be cool to surprise with a cat that looked just like Jim. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was so surprised and excited to see them. I bonded with them so quickly. Some nights I'd spend the night just to spend time with the cats. During school breaks I'd bring them home with me. I really love them so much. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When J and I went on vacation last month, the cats stayed at my house with my family. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They've been here since. Technically they're J's cats- so now that we're broken up, he should rea&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;lly come get them. I gave him a week to come get them. This weekend is&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; his last chance. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B-Eecm39bPw/SAWQPW-YO3I/AAAAAAAAAFc/-uys2BiZjHQ/s200/n8200889_35259608_6135.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189712739154017138" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm not sure if I want them or not. I love them to death, but looking at them reminds me of him. I guess it's up to him. If he comes for them this weekend, they'll go back. If he doesn't, they'll stay. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;PS. Why does pay become paid, but stay doesn't become staid??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6856089812151732871-914360242874049472?l=graypeacoat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://graypeacoat.blogspot.com/feeds/914360242874049472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6856089812151732871&amp;postID=914360242874049472' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6856089812151732871/posts/default/914360242874049472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6856089812151732871/posts/default/914360242874049472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://graypeacoat.blogspot.com/2008/04/cats.html' title='the cats'/><author><name>Kate</name><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B-Eecm39bPw/SAWOSW-YO2I/AAAAAAAAAFU/nbjhwgerb6M/s72-c/babies.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856089812151732871.post-229597388029328690</id><published>2008-04-10T00:45:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-10T00:53:31.218-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog'/><title type='text'>finally</title><content type='html'>I think about starting to blog again all of the time. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've finally gone and done it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I was in high school I had a personal blog, which had a devoted 2 readers. Once my parents discovered it, I toned down my writing, and had a devoted 3 readers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was more for me, than it was to find on-line fame. More than anything I loved designing my "layouts". For a while I thought of becoming a graphic designer. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I realized how much I actually enjoyed writing about something I cared about. That's when I considered becoming a journalist. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fast forward four years, and I'm a newly single, recent college grad, working in a hospital as a secretary and exploring the city I grew up in as a semi-adult. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm probably just as clueless today as I was back then. But at least now I can legally drink. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm going through some interesting times in my life. Why not share?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6856089812151732871-229597388029328690?l=graypeacoat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://graypeacoat.blogspot.com/feeds/229597388029328690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6856089812151732871&amp;postID=229597388029328690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6856089812151732871/posts/default/229597388029328690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6856089812151732871/posts/default/229597388029328690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://graypeacoat.blogspot.com/2008/04/finally.html' title='finally'/><author><name>Kate</name><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-6856089812151732871.post-2311780046259209200</id><published>2008-03-31T23:59:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T23:08:21.977-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='j'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>break up</title><content type='html'>J and I broke up last night/this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember how it started exactly, but I've been feeling some trust issues lately. Nothing huge, but dumb stuff- like he bought a used computer and is trying to sell it on ebay. He didn't tell me about it. I found out on my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I called him last night, after he was asleep, and said, "I think we should break up because I feel like I can't trust you anymore. If you don't tell me about small stuff, how do I know you're not lying about big stuff?" I was expecting him to say something along the lines of, "Oh Kate. That's silly. You can trust me. I love you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead he said, "I think that'd be for the best."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uhhhh, wait. What?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently he's sick of the long distance relationship thing. He feels detached. I suggested trying to get together more, especially on the weekends; he said that would make things worse. He said he still loves me, and I'm a great girlfriend....but he doesn't want to be in a long distance relationship right now, as a young guy in college. He said he doesn't see our paths crossing (location wise) again in the future, so we might as well just break up now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This comes 2 weeks after we return from a great week together in Florida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After getting off the phone with him, I drove to Philly. I couldn't sleep, and thought if I saw him in person we could fix things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time I got to Philly (1:45am), I was exhausted, my head hurt, and I just felt miserable. I walked into his apartment to see all kinds of new things. Including a huge (like 40inch) flat screen tv. That was a surprise. He never mentioned buying it. Such a big item...I found it really sketchy that he hadn't mentioned it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so angry at him after this that I just wanted to go home. But like I said, I was exhausted. (I worked 25 hours this weekend) So we went to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I half expected to wake up this morning and have things be fine. When I talked about working it out, he didn't even budge. It was a straight up, solid "No".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so absolutely miserable. I don't understand what's going on. I don't understand how he became so selfish all of a sudden. I don't understand how he made this decision so easily. How long has he been thinking about this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He assures me time and time again that there isn't anyone else involved. I believe him. But it doesn't make understanding this any easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To me, if you love someone you want to spend time with them. And some time together is better than no time together....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J says things are great when we see each other, but each time I leave he feels worse than the time before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I spent the whole morning crying, most of the afternoon crying- until I went to work at 3. There I only broke down a few times. Two were because he contacted me. He actually had the nerve to call me at work (on the work phone) and tell me he had just forwarded a piece of mail to me. Was that something that he really needed to call me for? I would have gotten it in the mail in a few days. As soon as I picked up the phone my voice started to quiver, and I started crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate this. I absolutely hate it. We're 20 stupid days away from our 2 year anniversary. :( I'm going to go cry myself to sleep now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6856089812151732871-2311780046259209200?l=graypeacoat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://graypeacoat.blogspot.com/feeds/2311780046259209200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6856089812151732871&amp;postID=2311780046259209200' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6856089812151732871/posts/default/2311780046259209200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6856089812151732871/posts/default/2311780046259209200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://graypeacoat.blogspot.com/2008/03/james-and-i-broke-up-last-nightthis.html' title='break up'/><author><name>Kate</name><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></feed>
