<?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-6131205994412944144</id><updated>2011-07-30T22:04:12.659-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Keep Track</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kedzie T.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03246957572980445936</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaImpe_xARI/AAAAAAAAABg/2-XjaxWmwL0/S220/n518847664_1730782_5400.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131205994412944144.post-6070594449007460458</id><published>2010-03-28T23:22:00.012-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-29T14:09:56.385-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Who says? : A Sports News Rebuttal</title><content type='html'>Recently I've come across some serious statements from sports analysts who think their opinions are set in stone... so clearly I have to make a statement of my own. Pardon the rhyme.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tennis and Soccer. Here's what I have to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;WORLD CUP 2010 - Holland's "success."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;SoccerNet says: The Dutch have no chance at taking the glory.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whether you call them the Oranje, the Dutch, the Netherlands or Holland, this team is globally known to be "the greatest soccer team who has never won the World Cup." That shouldn't suggest, however, that they won't be a force at this summer's competition in South Africa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/S7Awm4emIaI/AAAAAAAAAJg/rRy34gcWqtY/s1600/1849900445-soccer-uefa-european-championship-2008-qualifying-group-g-holland-v.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/S7Awm4emIaI/AAAAAAAAAJg/rRy34gcWqtY/s320/1849900445-soccer-uefa-european-championship-2008-qualifying-group-g-holland-v.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453912593299546530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Leander Schaerlaeckens of ESPN.com published an article dedicated to listing the many reasons why this Cup's orange-adorned squad will falter on center stage, but as a clearly biased Dutch fan, I can't help but disagree completely. Disagree. Completely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure. Holland has to cope with some dramatic behind the scenes complications (yes... we all know Wesley Sneijder's ego has gotten out of control) but that does not diminish their raw talent and superb game tactics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After qualifying for the World Cup in dominating fashion, the Dutch are looking physically strong and capable. Their latest friendly match against the US ended in a 2-1 win, but the scoreline does little to depict the true flow of the match. US fans will admit that the Oranje danced around the American players with fluid passes and pristine ball control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Netherlands' only difficulty seemed to be putting the ball into the net as often as they probably should have, but that will change with the return of all-star Robin Van Persie who has been taking time off to recover from injury. Pair his skills with the ever-improving striker Dirk Kuyt, and a personal favorite of mine, midfielder Rafael Van der Vaart, and the Dutch offense can be just as venomous as that of teams like Spain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The #3-in-the-world Dutch team is by no means a favorite to win the World Cup, but to count them out completely is an absolute fallacy. It's true that they have lost their top ranked goalkeeper Van der Saar to retirement, but with the experience of seasoned defensemen like Giovanni Van Bronckhorst, the team should still have confidence in their back lines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's time to put aside the politics of the present and the haunting memories of the past (ugh, the Dutch's loss to Portugal in the 2006 World Cup). In soccer, just as in any sport, no match is a certainty. Anyone can beat the best at any time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think American sports journalists covering soccer should stop doubting other teams until the United States actually accomplishes something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PROFESSIONAL TENNIS - The rise and fall of the Serbians.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tennis.com says: Ivanovic, Jankovic and Djokovic aren't as good as they once were.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll start with the world #2 Novak Djokovic first because, well, it's a quick and easy statement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/S7Aw1Vy1DoI/AAAAAAAAAJo/fsdkA2uUd-0/s1600/539w.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 211px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/S7Aw1Vy1DoI/AAAAAAAAAJo/fsdkA2uUd-0/s320/539w.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453912841687207554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The guy rocks out on a tennis court. Having a rough time at a few tournaments is natural in a sport that has virtually no off-season. The crowd may have booed his poor performance at the Sony Ericsson Open in Miami after his early-round loss, but might I remind them: he's a Grand Slam Champion and world class baseliner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now on to the women...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was once a time when Ana Ivanovic and Jelena Jankovic shared the #1 and #2 world ranking positions together. In fact, both of them have been #1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jelena is the easier of the two to defend after her recent championship title at the BNP Paribas Open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/S7AxHxy4gzI/AAAAAAAAAJw/5QJ0pXDRt64/s1600/610x.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 238px; height: 166px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/S7AxHxy4gzI/AAAAAAAAAJw/5QJ0pXDRt64/s320/610x.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453913158441272114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;One of the most athletic players on the women's tour, JJ is an overly dramatic, high-emotion court princess with enough attitude to fill the stadiums she plays in. But man do I love it. It would be one thing if she acted this way without having skill, but her rock-solid backhand down the line is by far the best in the game, and her court coverage is ridiculously good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, she is on her way back into full swing. Sure, she had a rough 2009 season, but I have a feeling that 2010 will have some Jankovic highlights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there's Ana Ivanovic...&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/S7AxoMDtsmI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/DWOhDs9Ws2Q/s1600/ana_ivanovic_dress_4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 165px; height: 174px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/S7AxoMDtsmI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/DWOhDs9Ws2Q/s320/ana_ivanovic_dress_4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453913715247002210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...sigh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ana has had some difficulty of late, losing in the early rounds of nearly every tournament she has played in. Let's just say it hasn't been impressive for the former world #1; the tears have been flowing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But who wouldn't cry when you've had poor results and the media has doomed you to a quick fall from glory, writing you off as a has-been?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tennis.com went so far as to publish an article claiming that Ivanovic is becoming the new Anna Kournikova-- a pretty face with less than average talent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Might I remind those who believe such statements of a few things, beginning with this picture:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/S7Ax3gJNW7I/AAAAAAAAAKA/iAlWoxQW6ps/s1600/ana+Ivanovic+French+Open+2008-%280%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/S7Ax3gJNW7I/AAAAAAAAAKA/iAlWoxQW6ps/s320/ana+Ivanovic+French+Open+2008-%280%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453913978336795570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ivanovic is a former French Open champion. Kournikova never did anything worth noting, really (other than making tennis one of the sexiest sports on the scene).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ivanovic, with the ability to grind out long rallies and slap electrifying forehands, was on the top of her game when she won her first slam, and it's only human of her to have fallen back after the weight of expectation was placed upon her shoulders.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay... dropping out of the top 50 is a little sad, but who is to say that she won't have a big return to grandeur?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hoping for a big run for Ivanovic at this year's French. I'm not going to hold my breath, but I can still be hopeful, even if I do have to close my eyes when she tosses the ball for a serve...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'm just tired of opinion pieces on sports being portrayed as fact... especially when it's negative coverage of my favorite teams and players.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who says we have to take these sports journalists' words as the end-all be-all truth? Who says we can't write our own responses in hopes of finding more who agree?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who says?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6131205994412944144-6070594449007460458?l=kedziet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/feeds/6070594449007460458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2010/03/who-says-sports-news-rebuttal.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/6070594449007460458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/6070594449007460458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2010/03/who-says-sports-news-rebuttal.html' title='Who says? : A Sports News Rebuttal'/><author><name>Kedzie T.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03246957572980445936</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaImpe_xARI/AAAAAAAAABg/2-XjaxWmwL0/S220/n518847664_1730782_5400.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/S7Awm4emIaI/AAAAAAAAAJg/rRy34gcWqtY/s72-c/1849900445-soccer-uefa-european-championship-2008-qualifying-group-g-holland-v.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131205994412944144.post-7179752273096415019</id><published>2010-02-10T17:16:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-10T17:45:29.756-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dedicated to DeVito</title><content type='html'>On Thursday, February 4, 2010, BU sophomore Mike DeVito passed away. He was my friend...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though we had lost touch since becoming good friends during our first year of college, Mike's death has had a huge impact on me. The tragedy opened my eyes. I cannot even imagine the pain and sorrow that his family and closest friends are experiencing during this difficult time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I want to dedicate my latest blog to Michael with a short poem, a good quote, and a few pictures. Even if you did not know this wonderful spirit, please take a moment to think about him, those who were close to him, and remember that life is something no one should take for granted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each day a blessing.&lt;br /&gt;Each breath a gift.&lt;br /&gt;My fragile heart,&lt;br /&gt;To you I lift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A name I will remember.&lt;br /&gt;A laugh I can't forget.&lt;br /&gt;Not hugging you goodbye,&lt;br /&gt;Is the one thing I regret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the light has faded-&lt;br /&gt;No glimmer from your smile.&lt;br /&gt;This friendship put on hold,&lt;br /&gt;If only for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now you are our angel.&lt;br /&gt;May you watch us from above.&lt;br /&gt;Rest easy amongst the stars,&lt;br /&gt;For it is you we will always love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Rest in Peace, Michael Peter DeVito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;April 30, 1990 - February 4, 2010&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;"&lt;span style="font-family:georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;"&gt;To live in hearts we leave behind&lt;br /&gt;Is not to die."&lt;br /&gt;~Thomas Campbell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/S3Mz2y0oXqI/AAAAAAAAAI4/2Hty8iVkERg/s1600-h/Post+16+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 236px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/S3Mz2y0oXqI/AAAAAAAAAI4/2Hty8iVkERg/s200/Post+16+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436746191614795426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/S3M0Ty9NeXI/AAAAAAAAAJA/1cXCCfpCWko/s1600-h/Post+16+%284%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 160px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/S3M0Ty9NeXI/AAAAAAAAAJA/1cXCCfpCWko/s200/Post+16+%284%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436746689866987890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/S3M0c27cthI/AAAAAAAAAJI/b0lG2xROx1M/s1600-h/Post+16+%283%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 277px; height: 167px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/S3M0c27cthI/AAAAAAAAAJI/b0lG2xROx1M/s200/Post+16+%283%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436746845552162322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/S3M0zJprTbI/AAAAAAAAAJY/KO1cmGDzdpc/s1600-h/Post+16+%285%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 275px; height: 206px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/S3M0zJprTbI/AAAAAAAAAJY/KO1cmGDzdpc/s320/Post+16+%285%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436747228535016882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6131205994412944144-7179752273096415019?l=kedziet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/feeds/7179752273096415019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2010/02/dedicated-to-devito.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/7179752273096415019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/7179752273096415019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2010/02/dedicated-to-devito.html' title='Dedicated to DeVito'/><author><name>Kedzie T.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03246957572980445936</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaImpe_xARI/AAAAAAAAABg/2-XjaxWmwL0/S220/n518847664_1730782_5400.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/S3Mz2y0oXqI/AAAAAAAAAI4/2Hty8iVkERg/s72-c/Post+16+%282%29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131205994412944144.post-5449399547139464680</id><published>2010-01-07T18:09:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-20T23:19:59.520-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Top 100 Songs of the Decade</title><content type='html'>As promised, here's the Billboard's Top 100 songs of the Aughties. What I did, as inspired by my friend's New Year's playlist, is collect the top 10 songs (In order from 10-1) and connect it to the top 10 of the following year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know many of you won't agree with the way I'm ranking songs because a number one in 2002 may deserve a high spot than the number three in say, 2007... But honestly. I don't really care. It's just fun to look back on how our taste in music has evolved!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, everybody, here's Everything You Want and more that'll just keep you Jumpin Jumpin for ten years straight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;[2000]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;          100) He Wasn't Man Enough -- Toni Braxton&lt;br /&gt;       99) Bent -- Matchbox Twenty&lt;br /&gt;       98) Amazed -- Lonestar&lt;br /&gt;       97) I Knew I Loved You -- Savage Garden&lt;br /&gt;       96) Say My Name -- Destiny's Child&lt;br /&gt;       95) Everything You Want -- Vertical Horizon&lt;br /&gt;       94) I Wanna Know -- Joe&lt;br /&gt;       93) Maria Maria -- Santana feat. The Prodcut G&amp;amp;B&lt;br /&gt;       92) Smooth -- Santana feat. Rob Thomas&lt;br /&gt;       91) Breathe -- Faith Hill&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;[2001]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;          90) Independent Women Part 1 -- Destiny's Child&lt;br /&gt;       89) Again -- Lenny Kravitz&lt;br /&gt;       88) Thank You -- Dido&lt;br /&gt;       87) Let Me Blow Ya Mind -- Eve feat. Gwen Stefani&lt;br /&gt;       86) If You're Gone -- matchbox twenty&lt;br /&gt;       85) I'm Real -- Jennifer Lopez feat. Ja Rule&lt;br /&gt;       84) Drops Of Jupiter -- Train&lt;br /&gt;       83) All For You -- Janet&lt;br /&gt;       82) Fallin' -- Alicia Keys&lt;br /&gt;       81) Hanging By A Moment - Lifehouse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;[2002]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;          80) Blurry -- Puddle Of Mudd&lt;br /&gt;       79) U Got It Bad -- Usher&lt;br /&gt;       78) What's Luv? -- Fat Joe feat. Ashanti&lt;br /&gt;       77) In The End -- Linkin Park&lt;br /&gt;       76) A Thousand Miles -- Vanessa Carlton&lt;br /&gt;       75) Wherever you Will Go -- The Calling&lt;br /&gt;       74) Dilemma -- Nelly feat. Kelly Rowland&lt;br /&gt;       73) Hot In Here -- Nelly&lt;br /&gt;       72) Foolish -- Ashanti&lt;br /&gt;       71) How You Remind Me -- Nickelback&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;[2003]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;          70) Bring me to life -- Evanesence&lt;br /&gt;       69) Picture -- Kid Rock feat. Sheryl Crow&lt;br /&gt;       68) Miss You -- Aaliyah&lt;br /&gt;       67) Right Thurr -- Chingy&lt;br /&gt;       66) Unwell -- matchbox twenty&lt;br /&gt;       65) When I'm Gone -- 3 Doors Down&lt;br /&gt;       64) Crazy in Love -- Beyonce feat. Jay-Z&lt;br /&gt;       63) Get Busy -- Sean Paul&lt;br /&gt;       62) Ignition -- R. Kelly&lt;br /&gt;       61) In Da Club -- 50 Cent&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;[2004]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;          60) Lean Back -- Terror Squad&lt;br /&gt;       59) Goodies -- Ciara&lt;br /&gt;       58) Hey Ya! -- OutKast&lt;br /&gt;       57) I don't Wanna Know -- Mario Winans feat. Enya &amp;amp; P. Diddy&lt;br /&gt;       56) The Reason -- Hoobastank&lt;br /&gt;       55) The Way You Move -- Outkast&lt;br /&gt;       54) This Love -- Maroon5&lt;br /&gt;       53) If I ain't got You -- Alicia Keys&lt;br /&gt;       52) Burn -- Usher&lt;br /&gt;       51) Yeah! -- Usher feat. Lil John &amp;amp; Ludacris&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;[2005]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;          50) Behind These Hazel Eyes -- Kelly Clarkson&lt;br /&gt;       49) Don't Cha -- Pussy Cat Dolls feat. Busta Rhymes&lt;br /&gt;       48) Candy Shop -- 50 Cent feat. Olivia&lt;br /&gt;       47) Boulevard of Broken Dreams -- Green Day&lt;br /&gt;       46) Gold Digger -- Kanye West feat. Jamie Foxx&lt;br /&gt;       45) 1, 2 Step -- Ciara feat. Missy Elliott&lt;br /&gt;       44) Since U Been Gone -- Kelly Clarkson&lt;br /&gt;       43) Let Me Love You -- Mario&lt;br /&gt;       42) Hollaback Girl -- Gwen Stefani&lt;br /&gt;       41) We Belong Together -- Mariah Carey&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;[2006]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;          40) Check On It -- Beyonce feat. Slim Thug&lt;br /&gt;       39) Sexyback -- Justin Timberlake&lt;br /&gt;       38) Ridin' -- Chamillionaire feat. Krayzie Bone&lt;br /&gt;       37) Crazy -- Gnarls Barkley&lt;br /&gt;       36) Unwritten -- Natasha Bedingfield&lt;br /&gt;       35) Hips Don't Lie -- Shakira feat. Wyclef Jean&lt;br /&gt;       34) You're Beautiful -- James Blunt&lt;br /&gt;       33) Promiscuous -- Nelly Furtado feat. Timbaland&lt;br /&gt;       32) Temperature -- Sean Paul&lt;br /&gt;       31) Bad Day -- Daniel Powter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;[2007]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;          30) Glamorous -- Fergie feat. Ludacris&lt;br /&gt;       29) Say It Right -- Nelly Furtado&lt;br /&gt;       28) I Wanna Love You -- Akon feat. Snoop Dogg&lt;br /&gt;       27) Hey There Delilah -- Plain White T's&lt;br /&gt;       26) Before He Cheats -- Carrie Underwood&lt;br /&gt;       25) Buy U A Drank -- T-Pain feat. Yung Joc&lt;br /&gt;       24) Big Girls Don't Cry -- Fergie&lt;br /&gt;       23) The Sweet Escape -- Gwen Stefani feat. Akon&lt;br /&gt;       22) Umbrella - Rihannah feat. Jay-Z&lt;br /&gt;       21) Irreplaceable -- Beyonce&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;[2008]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;          20) Forever -- Chris Brown&lt;br /&gt;       19) With You -- Chris Brown&lt;br /&gt;       18) Love In This Club -- Usher feat. Young Jeezy&lt;br /&gt;       17) Long Song -- Sara Bareilles&lt;br /&gt;       16) No Air -- Jordin Sparks duet with Chris Brown&lt;br /&gt;       15) Apologize -- Timbaland feat. One Republic&lt;br /&gt;       14) Lollipop -- Lil Wayne feat. Static Major&lt;br /&gt;       13) No One -- Alicia Keys&lt;br /&gt;       12) Bleeding Love -- Leona Lewis&lt;br /&gt;       11) Low -- Flo Rida feat. T-Pain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;[2009]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;          10) Gives you Hell -- The All-American Rejects&lt;br /&gt;         9) Heartless -- Kanye West&lt;br /&gt;         8) Single Ladies -- Beyonce&lt;br /&gt;         7) I'm Yours -- Jason Mraz&lt;br /&gt;         6) Right Round -- Flo Rida&lt;br /&gt;         5) Love Story -- Taylor Swift&lt;br /&gt;         4) I Gotta Feeling -- Black Eyed Peas&lt;br /&gt;         3) Just Dance -- Lady Gaga&lt;br /&gt;         2) Boom Boom Pow -- Black Eyed Peas&lt;br /&gt;         1) Poker Face -- Lady Gaga&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, go ahead and enjoy. Comment. Mention songs that didn't make the cut. Say whatever you want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&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/6131205994412944144-5449399547139464680?l=kedziet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/feeds/5449399547139464680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2010/01/as-promised-heres-billboards-top-100.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/5449399547139464680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/5449399547139464680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2010/01/as-promised-heres-billboards-top-100.html' title='Top 100 Songs of the Decade'/><author><name>Kedzie T.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03246957572980445936</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaImpe_xARI/AAAAAAAAABg/2-XjaxWmwL0/S220/n518847664_1730782_5400.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131205994412944144.post-6338712080664918179</id><published>2010-01-07T09:27:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-07T13:54:51.228-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I "Aught" Not Think About How Fast Time Flies</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;aughties&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;" are over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those who don't know, the decade of 2000-2009 has been coined the aught years, as in aught one, aught two, etc. (a numerical term &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;connoting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; the placement of a zero, in case any of you are extremely math impaired).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to write something absolutely epic as my first blog of the new decade, but I can't help but think how strange it is that ten years ago I was a ten-year-old goofball moving from Maine to Connecticut. Now, I'm an almost-twenty-year-old goofball at Boston University.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time flies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the funniest thoughts I've come across during this period of self-reflection is what young-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Kedzie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; would say if he met and spoke with present-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Kedzie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;. I don't think at the age of ten I ever expected to go through or experience some of the things I did during these past few years of maturation and growth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, as I thought and thought about my life, I decided I really wanted to go over some of the biggest events of my life, but I didn't want to bore those of you opting to read this with a detailed list of successes and failures, so instead, here's my plan:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the rest of this blog, I'm going to note a few of my favorite and worst memories from this past decade, and then I'm going to follow up this post with a Top 100 Songs of the Decade list (an idea I'm definitely stealing from a good friend of mine) in hopes that if my life doesn't thrill you, a but of musical &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;nostalgia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2000&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   -Moved from Maine to Connecticut&lt;br /&gt;   - Began playing the drums and percussion in general.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2001&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;- I began middle school and was awkward.&lt;br /&gt;   - Got fed up with being ridiculed for my weight so I began running. Running eventually became a sincere passion of mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2002&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;- Was selected for a student leadership program. Can't remember why...&lt;br /&gt;   - Tried out for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ODP&lt;/span&gt; Soccer as a goalie and failed.&lt;br /&gt;   - Began learning Spanish and acquired a keen interest in languages.&lt;br /&gt;   - Tried out for middle school soccer and was told I was "too small to play."&lt;br /&gt;   - Oldest sister, Greta, graduated from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Loomis&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Chafee&lt;/span&gt; and went off to BU.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2003&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;- Twin sisters, Cara and Cayla, graduated from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;SWHS&lt;/span&gt; and went off to college. Became the only child left at home and became best friends with my dog, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Madaket&lt;/span&gt;.'&lt;br /&gt;   - Almost moved back to Maine to attend North &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Yarmouth&lt;/span&gt; Academy and restart life back north. Hated Connecticut.&lt;br /&gt;   - Began playing defense on the middle school soccer team. Got MVP and fell in love with the position. Felt &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;vindicated&lt;/span&gt; for last year's cut.&lt;br /&gt;   - Running had become a huge part of my life and I was soon the fastest sprinter on my soccer teams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2004&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;- Got some sort of award for getting all As in my 8&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade classes.&lt;br /&gt;   - Graduated from Timothy Edwards Middle School.&lt;br /&gt;   - Began my high school career at South Windsor High School.&lt;br /&gt;   - Began high school soccer as a midfielder/defender. JV level.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2005&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;- Went back to Maine to visit friends for the first time. Went back every year since.&lt;br /&gt;   - Ran track and field for the first time. Was told I "would never be good at it" by my coach...&lt;br /&gt;   - Began my sophomore year of soccer swinging between both JV and Varsity teams as a defender/midfielder.&lt;br /&gt;   - Became obsessed with Brown University and wanted to go there more than any other place.&lt;br /&gt;   - Took my first journalism class. Double-nominated for my first broadcast package at the FOX News Student awards.&lt;br /&gt;   - Ran indoor track for the first time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2006&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Earned the title as Journal Inquirer All-Academic male representative from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;SWHS&lt;/span&gt; for the spring sports season, and did so for every season following until I graduated. Still hold the record for most in a row (7 out of a possible 8).&lt;br /&gt;   - Worked at the high school as a Freshman Orientation advisor (LINK Crew Leader).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;     - Year of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;SATs&lt;/span&gt;. Puke.&lt;br /&gt;   - Played varsity soccer as a defender. Received All-Conference and All-Academic honors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2007&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;- Worked at the high school as a Freshman advisor (LINK Crew Leader) again.&lt;br /&gt;   -Played varsity soccer as the single captain and got a concussion in the first game. Came back as the central defender with my best friend Foley and ended up winning &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;CCC&lt;/span&gt; East conference title, earned All-State and All-Academic honors as well as earned membership in the National All-Academic team.&lt;br /&gt;   - Finally got my driver's license!&lt;br /&gt;   - Got scouted by Brown University as a possible recruit for track. Ended up getting deferred from early decision and later lost contact with the track coach.&lt;br /&gt;   - Went to Spain for 10 days with a group of high school classmates, visiting Madrid, Granada, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Sevilla&lt;/span&gt;, Cordoba, La Costa Del Sol and even went to Africa for a day to travel around Morocco.&lt;br /&gt;   - Took the position as Chairman of Communications for the local Relay for Life committee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2008&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;     - Broke multiple high school track records including the 100m, 300m, and 4x400m. Selected as All-Conference both indoor and outdoor.&lt;br /&gt;   - Got rejected from Brown University.&lt;br /&gt;   - Got accepted to Syracuse University at SI New House, and Boston University at the College of Communications.&lt;br /&gt;   - Experienced one of the best weeks of my life in Washington D.C. as a selected Al &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Neuharth&lt;/span&gt; Free Spirit Scholar for my excellence in journalism. (Met people such as Julia Butler, Natalia &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Ledford&lt;/span&gt;, Dave &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Lafortune&lt;/span&gt;, Natalie King and Paula &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Skaggs&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;     - Celebrated my 18&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; birthday in Maine at the New England track &amp;amp; field championships, placing 7&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; with my 4x400m relay team.&lt;br /&gt;   - Spoke with Boston University coaches and was offered a position as a sprint on the BU Track and Field team.&lt;br /&gt;   - Selected Boston University as my location of study and began my college career in late August/early September. Began track there as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2009&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;- Won my first college 200m heat at the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Beanpot&lt;/span&gt; Battle at Harvard.&lt;br /&gt;   - Quit college track and field.&lt;br /&gt;   - Got my first college 4.0 GPA.&lt;br /&gt;   - Completed my first year of college (aka, survived it).&lt;br /&gt;   - Worked as a camp counselor / Barnes and Noble bookseller over the summer.&lt;br /&gt;   - Placed second with my best friend, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Steph&lt;/span&gt;, at a local beach volleyball tournament: The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;VolleyBrawl&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;   - Without track, began playing volleyball and soccer &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;intramural&lt;/span&gt;s, as well as became a starting Chaser on the BU &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Quidditch&lt;/span&gt; team.&lt;br /&gt;   - Won BU Co-Ed Soccer &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;intramurals&lt;/span&gt; and placed 3rd at the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;Quidditch&lt;/span&gt; World Cup.&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;- Had to deal with the sudden loss of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;Madaket&lt;/span&gt;, my dog and best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;     - Got my first B+ in college.&lt;br /&gt;   - Wrote a profile on an Olympic athlete with hopes of having it published in Sports Illustrated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Now I know you all care so much. But seriously, a lot has happened. I'm sure as I continue thinking and remembering I'll add more to this list. I suggest you do the same and see just how much you've changed over the past decade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/6131205994412944144-6338712080664918179?l=kedziet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/feeds/6338712080664918179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-aught-not-think-about-how-fast-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/6338712080664918179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/6338712080664918179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-aught-not-think-about-how-fast-time.html' title='I &quot;Aught&quot; Not Think About How Fast Time Flies'/><author><name>Kedzie T.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03246957572980445936</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaImpe_xARI/AAAAAAAAABg/2-XjaxWmwL0/S220/n518847664_1730782_5400.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131205994412944144.post-590533256127187493</id><published>2009-11-30T18:45:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T23:36:08.908-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tragic Inspiration</title><content type='html'>Inspiration, for me, attacks without remorse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How, amidst all the joys of my life, do I allow turmoil to dictate the flow of my writing? How do I repeatedly break streams of conscious suffering with raw, subconscious disclosure of thought?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My muse is a shadow in the corner of the room. My muse is a cold rush of adrenaline.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My muse is my own misery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I write to cope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alone at my desk I pour both emotion and confusion onto paper like swirls of paint onto canvas, but never do the colors create an image more true, more powerful, more mind-numbingly real than when my words are guided by the hands of Pain, of Sorrow, of Tragedy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such a statement does not suggest that writing is not my passion. And that is not to imply that my passion is a hollow despondency- such a fact would make me rather masochistic, a characteristic of which I am not. Quite to the contrary, I often use writing as a way of memorializing happiness. I even write as a means of intellectual stimulation. But that's writing of a different kind. That's writing to remember. That's writing to achieve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is writing to feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's time to feel again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Madaket&lt;/span&gt; Millie, my baby, where did you go? Howl once more won't you? Oh, you can't? Or you won't? Stubborn little puppy, I know you too well for this. Stop playing coy and get over here now- you, with that goofy big black nose. Yeah, you, squiggles. Hairy disaster. Fuzz muffin. My little angel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maddie?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I was ignorant, baby, and I'm sorry. I thought calling you "my puppy" all these years would keep you young forever, but you weren't that old, were you? Fuzzy, open those big brown eyes one more time. Please?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most people won't understand. Dogs are companions, sure, but to become &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;philosophical&lt;/span&gt; and depressed from one's passing is a bit over the top, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This almond-eyed blessing was a piece of me. Is a piece of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't sit here and pretend I was the only person Maddie was important to; my sister is living proof that a dog &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;can &lt;/span&gt;and&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; does&lt;/span&gt; make us complete. All I can do is hope that Cayla is mourning in a manner that gives her the strength she needs, as well as the rest of my family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Madaket&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;did&lt;/span&gt; change me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;eighth&lt;/span&gt; grade I became the only kid left in my house, and as I entered high school my own self-doubt, depression and familial conflicts often &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;overwhelmed&lt;/span&gt; me to a point of exhaustion and distress. But never once was I alone. For five years, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Madaket&lt;/span&gt; became my best friend: the only figure in my life from which I never felt anything but unconditional love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A dog's love, perhaps, but perfect love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Madaket&lt;/span&gt; has always symbolized the warmth of home- of family. She embodies the compassion and love my family is capable of but does not always show toward one another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was born with a heart shaped mark on her chest, maybe by chance, or maybe to remind us that love shouldn't be an effort. Love simply... is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This dog- our dog - my shred of hope, has passed away. Suddenly. Abruptly. And though I have lost pets before, I feel as though I have been forever changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Madaket&lt;/span&gt; changed me. Helped me. Loved me. And I am eternally indebted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every moment I shared with Maddie has been replaying in my head since the moment I found out she had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;passed&lt;/span&gt;, and all I can say is I am grateful I had the chance to give her one last hug and one last kiss. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to lose her so young...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything I write for her now comes between tear drops and heavy sobs. Everything is too real, and all I want is to cling to her, hold her, until the pain fades away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Madaket&lt;/span&gt;, my baby, where did the&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; time &lt;/span&gt;go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister posted a quote today I would like to share with everyone:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;" class="status-body"&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;"Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SxSW5EOI7oI/AAAAAAAAAIg/wkHnOUs6YN0/s1600/maddie+as+a+puppy.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 260px; height: 172px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SxSW5EOI7oI/AAAAAAAAAIg/wkHnOUs6YN0/s200/maddie+as+a+puppy.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410114959508565634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SxSXGGuFaYI/AAAAAAAAAIo/fpooQGsB-Gk/s1600/n32900145_30493965_95582.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 237px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SxSXGGuFaYI/AAAAAAAAAIo/fpooQGsB-Gk/s200/n32900145_30493965_95582.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410115183517723010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SxSXUjGIagI/AAAAAAAAAIw/LPn1IX2lq5w/s1600/The+Dog+-+FUZZY.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 305px; height: 228px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SxSXUjGIagI/AAAAAAAAAIw/LPn1IX2lq5w/s200/The+Dog+-+FUZZY.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410115431652944386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span id="profile_status"&gt;&lt;span id="status_text"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Madaket&lt;/span&gt;, you're my best friend. I will always love you. Rest in peace, my baby. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span id="profile_status"&gt;&lt;span id="status_text"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span id="profile_status"  style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span id="status_text"&gt;Now you really are my angel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&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/6131205994412944144-590533256127187493?l=kedziet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/feeds/590533256127187493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/11/tragic-inspiration.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/590533256127187493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/590533256127187493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/11/tragic-inspiration.html' title='Tragic Inspiration'/><author><name>Kedzie T.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03246957572980445936</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaImpe_xARI/AAAAAAAAABg/2-XjaxWmwL0/S220/n518847664_1730782_5400.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SxSW5EOI7oI/AAAAAAAAAIg/wkHnOUs6YN0/s72-c/maddie+as+a+puppy.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131205994412944144.post-1318859006589972587</id><published>2009-08-23T15:18:00.013-04:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T14:05:41.882-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Rewind</title><content type='html'>I won't try and justify my lack of writing this summer, even if I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;was &lt;/span&gt;exceptionally busy. But although I did not take the time to chat about all I was up to, don't sit there and believe I didn't have much to say. It was an interesting summer to say the least: a hodgepodge of work-related chaos and athletic endeavors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let's get straight to it... welcome to my Summer Rewind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Working Hard or Hardly Working.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moment I found out I wasn't going to be a part of the BU Summer Staff I went crazy looking for work, and boy did I find some. This summer I was a full time counselor for Camp Discovery and a part time cashier at Barnes and Noble, so I averaged about 60 hours of work a week. Perhaps the greatest (sarcasm) time I had this summer was the notorious 72 hour work week... or maybe it was the 17 day streak of work without a day off. Regardless, I was busy. Always. And tired. Always. But it made the summer fly by, and I felt accomplished, even if camp was the nail in the coffin as to whether or not I want children. I'm kidding. Sort of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Books, Books, and more.... Books.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, be jealous. I got to work at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Barnes&lt;/span&gt; and Noble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really though, don't be too jealous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I was 16 I have wanted to work in a book store, imagining what it would be like to be surrounded by some of the greatest works of all time as I earned money for selling them. The dream sort of faded when I endured my first eight-hour Saturday shift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There really isn't much to say about B&amp;amp;N. It was just an easy job with some very nice coworkers. It was my first time working in retail and I found that my people-skills came in handy. I got a lot of compliments for being cheerful, kind and charismatic; I even had one woman offer me a job at her office, though I turned it down (nicely). My friends reading this are probably laughing, wondering why I don't incorporate those characteristics into my daily life with them. Sorry guys, I save courteous &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kedzie&lt;/span&gt; for parents and customer service!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I joke, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Beware: Attack Chipmunk on patrol.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is where the bulk of my summer took place: camp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Way back in June I went through a rigorous 25 hour training session covering all the basics of how to be a great (and safe) counselor. Apparently Camp Discovery is accredited by the American Camping Association, earning a spot in the measly 25% of camps nation wide who are good enough to do so, meaning we counselors had a lot to live up to. Now, I would never have guessed we were so well known and so highly esteemed- it's a day camp run through my town's recreation department, but apparently we're &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SplwKnhhfoI/AAAAAAAAAHw/5ijVcoBodpE/s1600-h/1914755555_f45c827829.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 197px; height: 129px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SplwKnhhfoI/AAAAAAAAAHw/5ijVcoBodpE/s320/1914755555_f45c827829.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375450957953990274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of training every counselor was given a note-card with a name of an animal on it which signified the group of campers we would be working with throughout the summer. Lucky me, I opened my card to find the word "Chipmunk" written in black pen. The card should have been accompanied with a message reading: "good luck."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But wait! Chipmunks are cute little animals. How on Earth could they strike fear into the hearts of college students? I'll tell you how.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Camp Discovery is broken down by ages, ranging from five to 11 / 12 years old. Each group is named after an animal: Chipmunks, Gophers, Foxes, Wolves, Bobcats, Eagles, Bears.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/Splwd6u9AxI/AAAAAAAAAH4/9wra24ZHDII/s1600-h/evil+chipmunk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 138px; height: 138px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/Splwd6u9AxI/AAAAAAAAAH4/9wra24ZHDII/s320/evil+chipmunk.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375451289528107794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; That's right... chipmunks meant I was blessed (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;haha&lt;/span&gt;) with the opportunity to work with five and six year-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;olds&lt;/span&gt;.  About 25 of them each week for eight weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to be honest, the camp actually turned out to be a lot of fun, even if it was rolled into a giant mess of terror and frustration. The Chipmunks group had two other counselors aside from myself: good friends of mine named Emily and Erika. With a little practice, the three of us became pros at controlling our little monsters, growing close bonds with the ones who stayed the entire summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best part of camp, no doubt, had to be the stories we went home with. Even on days when I went to camp from 6:30 to 4:30, then had Barnes and Noble 6:00 to 11:00, I was still able to sit down at the end of the night, bandage my wounds (literally) and laugh about the ridiculous things my kids went through each and every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was D-Dubs, Ms. Fox, The "Pussy[cat] Doll," Little Alex, Billy, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Fuz&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;deen&lt;/span&gt;, Trevor the Terror, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;AaaayyyyJaaaaaaay&lt;/span&gt; and so many others, and although I have hundreds of stories to fill this blog, I'll center my focus around one camper who made life interesting every week. We called her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Mumz&lt;/span&gt;. Other counselors called her the Spawn of Satan. But whatever we called her, she couldn't have cared less because she was a girl on a mission. What that mission was we still don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Picture a small, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;gangly&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;blonde&lt;/span&gt; who, at first sight, is absolutely adorable. Now picture that angelic face twisting and contorting into a menacing grimace of doom. That is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Mumz&lt;/span&gt; in a nutshell. This sweet little girl could start as a pleasant child chatting about her new kitten and wind up a demonic beast, laughingly maniacally in about two seconds flat. But putting her dual-personalities aside, she was by far the camper who provided us with the most laughs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first day at the pool we spotted her gnawing away at her fruit &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;rollup&lt;/span&gt;, having eaten two-thirds of it with the plastic still attached. Later in the summer she was also the girl who, "because green's her favorite," licked, chewed and ate a green marker (that same day, followed up her awesome behavior by yet again, attempting to eat her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;rollup&lt;/span&gt; in the plastic). We were forced to call her mother one afternoon after a boy approached her and said, "I love you," to which she responded, "Then KISS ME!" When the boy didn't do as she said, she grabbed his face and kissed him herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all the horror stories in the past, I can truly look back at camp and say it wasn't too bad. So what what if I ripped my hand on a broken dunk tank? So what if there was a Swine Flu scare? I teared up when my favorite camper left... and that means something. That means I actually, down deep, enjoyed my job at Camp Discovery. Might I add that the sign she made me on the last day is currently hanging in my dorm room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Paint the Lines.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even with my hectic work schedule, I made sure that this was the summer where I actually went out and competed in some new athletic venues. With BU Track no longer preventing my involvement in club and intramural sports, I felt that this summer I could do more than just go running every day. So, I entered myself in a tennis tournament and a beach volleyball tournament!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tennis, as most of my friends know, is a sport I absolutely love. But with soccer and track being my focus throughout high school, I was never able to branch out and try other things. This summer I put an end to that and went head-first into the Earl &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Yost&lt;/span&gt; Tennis Classic in Manchester, CT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/Splv7qdR9iI/AAAAAAAAAHo/Olm39uVEqY4/s1600-h/2tennis.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/Splv7qdR9iI/AAAAAAAAAHo/Olm39uVEqY4/s320/2tennis.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375450701043463714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I have played tennis for awhile now, and my game has improved exponentially. Tennis will always be the sport I consider to be the most frustrating because of the ups and downs I experience in my game. At my peak condition, my game has all the pieces I need to make me a good player- my specialties being a huge backhand both cross-court and down the line and an arsenal of different serve types. But so often I find myself falling into slumps, dumping forehands into the net, misjudging ball speed and crumbling under a inconsistent serve percentage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leading up to the tournament I went into extreme training, playing as many people as I could. My greatest moment had to be my final match before the first round, where for the first time in my life I triumphed over a good friend of mine, former captain of the high school tennis team, in straight sets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when I arrived at the Tennis Classic I found myself overwhelmed by the new atmosphere. I had never taken part in an actual competitive tennis tournament, and my nerves were showing. In my opening round match-up I faced a tennis player with tremendous skill. All my gears were in motion and the first game of his serve entered multiple deuces, and though he held serve, it looked as though the match would be one for the records. But it wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I panicked. I wanted rallies to be short and powerful, but my opponent had tremendous court-coverage and a forehand that shattered my own. I did my best to hold steady, but when my best backhand shot of the match bounced off the edge of his racket and down upon my court, I knew it just wasn't my day to win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the match, I was semi relieved to be off the court. But at the same time I was happy because I had finally done something I had wanted to do for years, and you can expect to hear about my future adventures into tennis tournaments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Here Comes the Boom!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe my favorite activity of the entire summer (not including my weekend getaway with my family to Block Island) was the beach volleyball tournament I organized and competed in with my best friend, Stephanie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Caraballo&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Steph&lt;/span&gt; and I have been good friends since sixth grade, but never do we click more than when we're side by side on a sand court. After a clean-sweep of the 3 qualifying-round matches, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Steph&lt;/span&gt; and I entered the win-or-die semi-finals, dead-set on winning the medals awarded to first and second place teams.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SplvtFN-8JI/AAAAAAAAAHg/9vMoY8Acp64/s1600-h/5456_129877302664_518847664_2716911_6366832_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 142px; height: 191px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SplvtFN-8JI/AAAAAAAAAHg/9vMoY8Acp64/s320/5456_129877302664_518847664_2716911_6366832_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375450450529022098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Steph&lt;/span&gt; played volleyball in high school and was always a great player, though her true skills are more obvious in a beach volleyball setting rather than indoors (but she is the high school's record holder for most digs in one game). Whereas I have always played the sport for fun, though I've gotten much more consistent and powerful over the last year. Both of us, though not Olympic-champion standards, are good, and when put together, even better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a straight-set win in the semifinals, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Steph&lt;/span&gt; and I moved into the championship match with our eyes set on gold, and man did we fight for it. We dug and absorbed the heat being thrashed at us by our opponents, bumped and set accurately and crushed kills into the sand. We've never played so well, and after a long, 3-set match, we lost by a mere 3 points, earning second place in the first ever &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;VolleyBrawl&lt;/span&gt; tournament.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SplvhR4eKpI/AAAAAAAAAHY/hNb773Xq5mQ/s1600-h/5456_132416102664_518847664_2749077_6669986_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 247px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SplvhR4eKpI/AAAAAAAAAHY/hNb773Xq5mQ/s320/5456_132416102664_518847664_2749077_6669986_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375450247770024594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a blast together, as usual, and are excited for next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's basically my summer in spark-note version. Of course there were also my trips to the gym, a few beach days, and AN EPIC week in Maine once work was all said and done, but I can't sit here and bore you with all the specifics of my ever-exciting life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm back at school now, having a blast as I readjust to life in Boston. Look forward to more blogs as the year unfolds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6131205994412944144-1318859006589972587?l=kedziet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/feeds/1318859006589972587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/08/summer-rewind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/1318859006589972587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/1318859006589972587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/08/summer-rewind.html' title='Summer Rewind'/><author><name>Kedzie T.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03246957572980445936</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaImpe_xARI/AAAAAAAAABg/2-XjaxWmwL0/S220/n518847664_1730782_5400.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SplwKnhhfoI/AAAAAAAAAHw/5ijVcoBodpE/s72-c/1914755555_f45c827829.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131205994412944144.post-2470198861791556761</id><published>2009-06-30T20:42:00.018-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T20:56:28.402-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What A Racket</title><content type='html'>You know it's been a while since you've blogged when you're knee-deep in summer chaos and your last post is about procrastinating during final exams... Scratch that- you know you have been lazy with writing when your own mother points out that you haven't completed a blog recently. Epic. Fail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here we go... I'm going to try and find energy after work and entertain you with my oh-so inspiring thoughts more often, even if it means laying my face on the keyboard and submitting the subsequent rubbish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What has piqued my fatigued mind today? Wimbledon. I can't get enough of professional tennis (or playing tennis, for that matter) and I might as well give a little bit of my own view of what's to come in the Grass Court Kingdom of The All England Lawn Tennis Club. I need to get these thoughts up as soon as possible so that my selected players can either confirm or debunk my bracket expectations... Ready? GO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SkrEjddUwXI/AAAAAAAAAGI/zlUmymjktu8/s1600-h/Post+11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 186px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SkrEjddUwXI/AAAAAAAAAGI/zlUmymjktu8/s320/Post+11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353307220565344626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;MEN'S SINGLES:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The men of Wimbledon always bring some excitement on the court, with fast-paced play and powerful strikes, &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SkrE9WFbvGI/AAAAAAAAAGY/cruWzZm-yKU/s1600-h/Post+11+%286%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SkrE9WFbvGI/AAAAAAAAAGY/cruWzZm-yKU/s200/Post+11+%286%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353307665262689378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;and considering this year's quarter finalists I don't see how we could be let down. One of the most exciting matchups will be USA's A. Roddick taking on L. Hewitt, a game that will surely put Andy's world-known serve up against Lleyton's incredible agility.  So long as Roddick maintains composure and ignores the nerves that accompany a world-class battle, I expect him to move on. On the same side of the bracket sits Britain's own A. Murray who will face J. Ferrero. Will the Brit be able to live up to his nation's expectations? Something tells me he will atleast make it to the semifinals, but it's the other side of the bracket that has me reved up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My tennis favorite, N. Djokovic will be testing his strength against the big-hitting T. Haas. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SkrFbq43Z5I/AAAAAAAAAGo/QlUs8Ox9qr8/s1600-h/Post+11%285%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 271px; height: 181px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SkrFbq43Z5I/AAAAAAAAAGo/QlUs8Ox9qr8/s320/Post+11%285%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353308186243196818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As one of the most animated and crowd-thrilling players in the professional circuit, Novak has a lot to offer the tennis world, but his faltering consistency and occasional injury have plagued him in the past, but I'm putting my bets on him out of pure fan loyalty. He has the skill, the question is just whether or not he'll come to play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The final quarter's match to take place is R. Federrer v I. Karlovic. Honestly, I know very little about Roger's opponent, but I imagine it won't matter much- I've got Fed at 99% chance of success.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The true game, should my predictions hold true, will be the semifinal match between Novak Djokovic and Roger Federrer. The other side of the bracket can do as they please, because it will be THIS match that will invite championship-level play. Novak, better known as Nole by his noble fans, is an incredible player looking to take home more Grand Slams than his past has afforded him, and going up against the world's greatest player (sorry, Nadal really isn't the best yet...) will surely provoke some of the best tennis we've seen in this year's Majors. Federrer's got the backhand slice and better overall shot control, but Novak packs huge shots out of both his forehand and backhand triggers. Though I would expect Roger to fight through and win, I really and truly would like nothing more than to see Djokovic rally his way into the finals to take on whoever (and I mean whoever, because I don't care too much) awaits him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SkrJuppByOI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/TAgFbaaQ3aU/s1600-h/Post+11+%287%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 156px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SkrJuppByOI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/TAgFbaaQ3aU/s400/Post+11+%287%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353312910372358370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;WOMEN'S SINGLES:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The women's tournament has already entered the semifinal round, but that doesn't mean the excitement has dwindled even a bit. I enjoy watching women's tennis just as much, if not more than the men, and I attribute my interest to their style of play: something about it is just alluring. Sure, the men provide a good show with their hard-hitting, all-out, rack-up-the-winners play... But in my opinion, the women grant us the pleasure of more variety. We get to watch things like Jelena Jankovic's court-covering defense and masterful down-the-line backhand. Or how about the since-retired Justine Hennin's surprise attacks at net, showing us that even the most unsuspecting, small players can hold venomous shots and earn world number-one status. Lucky for those craving power, there's always the Williams sisters and the lovely Sharapova screaming and pummeling their way into championship matches.  This year's Wimbledon has given us all that and more...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 4 players remaining in the semifinal round are D. Safina v V. Williams and E. Dementieva v S. Williams. At first glance, both match-ups look promising, but one fact that can't be ignored is the possibility for a Williams Sister finale. What a shocker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SkrFq7x9gqI/AAAAAAAAAGw/2FbRAUh4Bq8/s1600-h/Post+11+%284%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SkrFq7x9gqI/AAAAAAAAAGw/2FbRAUh4Bq8/s200/Post+11+%284%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353308448475677346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In all honesty, the Wimbledon crown will most likely remain upon the head of Gass Court Queen, Venus Williams. Venus is on absolute fire this tournament, ready to take her place in the spotlight of centre court. All four players in this year's semis are big-hitting ladies who have all had their share of success. Dinara Safina, the current world number one, is the most likely woman to give Venus a battle, but I'm confident that the 5-time Wimbledon Champion has enough experience to take herself into the final round, if not all the way to the Wimbledon Trophy. But Safina will have something to say in rebuttle, bringing her A-game to each match and mercilessly trampling her opponents when given the chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SkrGDQXHxGI/AAAAAAAAAG4/8H6ydCmSNo4/s1600-h/Post+11+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SkrGDQXHxGI/AAAAAAAAAG4/8H6ydCmSNo4/s200/Post+11+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353308866317108322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Serena, on the other hand, needs to dampen the power of the Russian viper, Elena Dementieva. Serena, having won 2 of the last 3 Grand Slams, is full of confidence and ready to reclaim her familiar seat as the World Greatest, but Elena also has her reasons for winning: could this be her first Major&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SkrGXrunvnI/AAAAAAAAAHA/EtEYFmR_tzQ/s1600-h/Post+11+%281%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SkrGXrunvnI/AAAAAAAAAHA/EtEYFmR_tzQ/s200/Post+11+%281%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353309217260813938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; title?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter what the outcome, the odds are that the winner will face the might of Venus Williams, and I'd enjoy nothing more than another head-to-head sibling brawl. Though I applause Serena's play, my money would have to fall on Venus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SkrGlMG0ZII/AAAAAAAAAHI/yU1vRcbPjtU/s1600-h/Post+11+%283%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SkrGlMG0ZII/AAAAAAAAAHI/yU1vRcbPjtU/s320/Post+11+%283%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353309449290540162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;-------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There we go. All my thoughts on Wimbledon layed out for your viewing pleasure. Feel free to comment on my selections and add your own via the comments section.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6131205994412944144-2470198861791556761?l=kedziet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/feeds/2470198861791556761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/06/you-know-its-been-while-since-youve.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/2470198861791556761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/2470198861791556761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/06/you-know-its-been-while-since-youve.html' title='What A Racket'/><author><name>Kedzie T.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03246957572980445936</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaImpe_xARI/AAAAAAAAABg/2-XjaxWmwL0/S220/n518847664_1730782_5400.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SkrEjddUwXI/AAAAAAAAAGI/zlUmymjktu8/s72-c/Post+11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131205994412944144.post-2264448180030908006</id><published>2009-04-24T10:51:00.015-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T12:41:45.498-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Kedzie's Top 10 Ways To Procrastinate</title><content type='html'>As a means of stepping back from the more serious and emotion-based topics I often find myself blogging, I've decided to write about something that's pertinent to all of us students:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;PROCRASTINATION&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;(Hell, those of you in the real world are probably just as guilty of this as us)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today I'm going to try and entertain you all with my favorite 10 ways of putting off work. Now, as I write this post I'm going to pretend I don't have an assignment due in two hours, nor do I have a portfolio worth 40% of my semester grade due next week. Hahaha. Oh, college. Ironically, blogging doesn't even make my list!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anywho... let's get this thing going:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;#10: Peggle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who are unfamiliar with the word "Peggle," let me warn you... IT'S EVIL! Peggle is what I like to refer to as "computer game crack." Step aside you weirdos hooked on World of Warcraft and other games I have never, and will never, understand - a new era of addictive gaming is on the horizon and it's all thanks to a unicorn named Bjorn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SfSMqQlnMnI/AAAAAAAAAFI/z2HDiqVwBQ8/s1600-h/Post+10+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SfSMqQlnMnI/AAAAAAAAAFI/z2HDiqVwBQ8/s200/Post+10+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329038916721259122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Peggle is a game like pinball, only... not. Yes, thank you, I'm quite good at making comparisons. The purpose of the game is to shoot a small ball into a mass of pegs - some blue, some orange/red and then two green and one purple. Blues are there basically as distractions because the point of the game is to clear the board of all orange/red pegs before you run out of balls to shoot. You're given 10 at the start of each level and if you do not catch the ball in the bucket at the bottom of the board, you lose it. It sounds complicated, because it is. Actually... it's not. Go play and find out. Do it. Now. Do it. Join us. Do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you beat levels and become more familiar with the game, you unlock more and more unique characters, like Lord Cinderbottom (a dragon...) whom you'll probably fall in love with and accidentally rename (oh, Captain Copperbottom). Each character has special moves that are unlocked by hitting the green pegs, and I assure you, there is nothing more gratifying when you’re putting off a paper than watching your screen light up from Splork's explosion powers or Tula's pretty flowers. Ahhhhh.... I want to play now. Maybe I'll procrastinate on this blog...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" &gt;#9: Sleeping&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well this concept doesn't really need much explaining, does it. Sleep... is... good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But in all seriousness, what a perfect plan to put off work: completely forget about it! I know many of you, like myself, will sit at your desk staring down at your notes, or lay in bed straining your eyes to read, and suddenly you just feel exhausted.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SfSM5CrC8FI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/HroIXh6XmBc/s1600-h/Post+10+%283%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 160px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SfSM5CrC8FI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/HroIXh6XmBc/s320/Post+10+%283%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329039170683990098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; You know the feeling: your eyes getting heavy, your pillows calling to you saying "we're so cooooomfy!" Yes, they are. And so you lay down, just for a quick break, and next thing you know it's been three hours and you still haven't completed any work. Oopsy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only time sleeping is a no-no is when it completely backfires. You get into bed, ready to drift into a dream world where thesis statements and algorithms don' exist, and the next thing you know you're in the middle of a nightmare that &lt;i&gt;involves &lt;/i&gt;your homework. WHAT?! Since WHEN did research papers grow legs, arms and jagged teeth and decide it was fun to chase me down Commonwealth Avenue?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait... none of you ever have those dreams? Um... yeah, yeah... neither do I...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;#8: Downloading and Ripping Music&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another perfect plan to avoid our textbooks is through music. But see, I don't just like to sit there and listen, I like to get more and more. Who knows when you're going to throw a party and need some good songs to listen to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SfSNKCESV0I/AAAAAAAAAFY/XR0AmZyZbhw/s1600-h/post+10+%284%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 173px; height: 176px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SfSNKCESV0I/AAAAAAAAAFY/XR0AmZyZbhw/s200/post+10+%284%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329039462579197762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At home, one of my favorite things to do on school nights was to sit with my computer, open up Limewire, Kazaa, or whatever immoral music aggregator I had at the time and search for the best new music. Now that I'm at college, I can't.... But believe me, kiddos, there are ways around the firewalls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My solutions: ripping music with Zamzar or secretly downloading with Sadsteve.com. It's a lot of fun to go onto youtube, find a song you like and then rip the audio to add to your itunes collection. It sounds techy and hard, but beleive me, it's not. The website makes it so user-friendly. Then there's Sadsteve with its huge library of music, all of which is untraceable for those who decide to download it. B-e-a-utiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;#7: Twitter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait... you don't know what Twitter is? Oh, come on. Catch up, people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SfSNbzAXsdI/AAAAAAAAAFg/MYXp1SQQTkQ/s1600-h/post+10+%285%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 227px; height: 83px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SfSNbzAXsdI/AAAAAAAAAFg/MYXp1SQQTkQ/s200/post+10+%285%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329039767773884882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I will be the first to admit that I am an absolute Twitter Junkie, and so that's why it falls into spot number seven on my list of procrastination-enhancers. I will literally leave my room and walk around to find something tweet-worthy when I don't feel like getting my work done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you really don't know what Twitter is, perhaps that's for the best. The website has already started to overload and glitch (hello, Twitter staff, get a better server!). But trust me when I say that it feels really good to be able to type up funny moments and thoughts in 140 characters or less whenever you feel like it. Hey, it's not stupid. It isn't. Shush! It's not!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;#6: Clean and Organize&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surprised to see this in such a high spot in my top 10 count? I’m not. I don’t think you understand the obsessive qualities I have when it comes to the cleanliness of my workplace. Funny… because those qualities only seem to surface when I don’t actually want to work…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ll keep this explanation short: I love reorganizing and cleaning when there’s other work to be done. I feel like even though I’m procrastinating, I’m at least accomplishing something that is considered productive. So what if I vacuumed yesterday? So what if there’s only one piece of clothing on my floor? That stuff needs to be fixed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;#5: Eat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mmm… perhaps one of the more dangerous ways to avoid homework. I love to eat. Who doesn’t? Food is my friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SfSNwOVOk-I/AAAAAAAAAFo/ptODIj8A158/s1600-h/post+10+%286%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 119px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SfSNwOVOk-I/AAAAAAAAAFo/ptODIj8A158/s200/post+10+%286%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329040118706508770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can’t tell you the number of hours I’ve spent in the dining hall doing work (for real) this year, but whatever that number is, I imagine it’s completely eclipsed by how much time I’ve spent in the dining hall when there was other stuff to get done. Two hour or three hour lunches are normal, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even when I’m in my room, food is always a good distraction. After all, I’ve got an industrial sized box of gold fish sitting on my shelf and it’s near impossible to study on an empty stomach. Nom nom nom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;#4:Work Out&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SfSN9FZliLI/AAAAAAAAAFw/Ln37yz6ew_w/s1600-h/post+10+%287%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 206px; height: 279px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SfSN9FZliLI/AAAAAAAAAFw/Ln37yz6ew_w/s320/post+10+%287%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329040339647170738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, #4 and #5 probably go hand in hand for a reason. I can eat and eat to avoid my assignments, but then I feel guilty and say to myself, “Well, there’s always time to work out!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From running miles and miles around the city, to crashing Fitrec’s weight room, there’s always plenty to do to get the adrenaline pumping. The problem is, sometimes I’ll want to stay out of my room and away from my books so long I absolutely exhaust myself. Note to my readers: going for a run, followed by lifting, followed by a tennis match is not a good idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But on the bright side, being so tired when I get back lets me revert all the way back to the procrastination option I deemed #9: sleep!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;#3: Socialize&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one is plain and simple. Stop being a hermit and go out into the world! Some people I know need to do this more than others… cough cough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a good way to say “forget you” to your homework. Everyone loves going out with friends, no matter where or what is going on. Some of my favorite escapes include crashing in people’s rooms, laying on the ComLawn (Kate Edgar, this is for you), spending hours on the BU Beach and simply meandering through the city. No matter what you do, being with your friends makes it worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what’s even better is the fact that you’re all avoiding your studies, so you can complain about it together and not feel like complete academic failures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;#2: Mario Kart 64&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is easily my favorite option for procrastinating but, sigh, it couldn’t take the number one spot. But let’s focus on how spectacular this game is!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SfSONK97MDI/AAAAAAAAAF4/u1hnLWFeLy0/s1600-h/post+10+%288%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 272px; height: 190px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SfSONK97MDI/AAAAAAAAAF4/u1hnLWFeLy0/s320/post+10+%288%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329040616019669042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, Mario Kart – thank you for retaining your appeal for the past… what, 10 years or so? Those of you who don’t appreciate this game, or never played it, you had some seriously underprivileged childhoods. I will pick Bowser and a couple red shells over Martha Tompson’s Principles of Psychology any day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I love about the game so much is that no matter how old I get, I don’t feel stupid for playing it. (Ugh… I know some of you are shaking your head at the screens and calling me a dork…). BUT OH WELL! Many of my friends here at BU will stand by my side and agree that Mario Kart is one of the most entertaining ways to forget about homework, even if it does get a little violent, loud, crazy and competitive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;#1: Facebook&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so, we’ve finally made it. Number one. Numero uno. The biggest, baddest and most addictive way to put off homework, studying, projects or life in general: Facebook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes. A round of applause is necessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It may not be my favorite way to procrastinate, but there is no denying Facebook its crown as supreme ruiner of scholarly motivation. We all spend hours on this life-consuming website either browsing, stalking, liking, unliking, tagging, searching, poking, superpoking, friending, bumperstickering, blocking, chatting, updating and whatever else it is we do to pass the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SfSOZnnqB0I/AAAAAAAAAGA/U2iR248otvs/s1600-h/post+10+%289%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 120px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SfSOZnnqB0I/AAAAAAAAAGA/U2iR248otvs/s320/post+10+%289%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329040829869328194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Don’t deny it. Facebook is evil, but amazing. I can’t sit here and write a paper without getting bored and checking facebook an insane number of times, nor can I fault the people who purposely lock themselves out of their accounts to “de-tox their lives” from the facebook disease. Oh well, got to love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;- - - - - - - - - - - -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, now that this is done, I suppose I should get to work… I’ll probably check facebook first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I encourage you all to comment with other ways you enjoying procrastinating so that we can put together a master list. Here are a few honorable mentions that didn’t make my list: blogging, watching tv, watching movies, browsing youtube and plotting revenge.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6131205994412944144-2264448180030908006?l=kedziet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/feeds/2264448180030908006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/04/kedzies-top-10-ways-to-procrastinate.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/2264448180030908006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/2264448180030908006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/04/kedzies-top-10-ways-to-procrastinate.html' title='Kedzie&apos;s Top 10 Ways To Procrastinate'/><author><name>Kedzie T.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03246957572980445936</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaImpe_xARI/AAAAAAAAABg/2-XjaxWmwL0/S220/n518847664_1730782_5400.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SfSMqQlnMnI/AAAAAAAAAFI/z2HDiqVwBQ8/s72-c/Post+10+%282%29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131205994412944144.post-6350385192824901373</id><published>2009-04-23T15:39:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T19:37:39.536-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Trust me...</title><content type='html'>Trust is a funny thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually… it’s not funny at all. It’s something serious. Something daunting. Something we use and abuse each and every day, only to find ourselves questioning whether we selected the right person to confide in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, we often make mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To disclose personal information onto another individual, another aching soul, is something we all crave and desire. Even those whose walls of introversion have shadowed their yearning for a connection feel this need – this raw and primal longing. We go about our lives in relentless pursuit for someone, anyone, to whom we can pour out the contents of our heart; a person who will hold our hand as we watch the black and red swirls of secrets, passions, burdens and loves collide in a mess of honesty. But at the same time we fear. We fear the consequences of releasing these emotions and truths, telling ourselves that maybe we really can put all of our convictions and doubts into a box, lock it, and hide it upon the top shelf of our closet. But why does this fear exist?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, this fear comes from failure: the failure to accurately assess people’s character and intentions. I have many theories as to why I make so many of these errors, from being socially inept to living in a dream world (none of this is real!!!???), but none ever seem to hold true or carry over onto my next misjudgment. Each person in this world is as different and original as the buds of a tree, and though we wait and wait for the bloom, sometimes we just end up disappointed and barren. We can never hold the same expectations to each of these unique people, nor can we apply what we learn from one person to the next and expect perfect results. Life is truly a game of trial and error.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What frustrates me the most is my own drastic transformation in perspective about the world I live in and how to interact with it. One day I stand firmly with my heart upon my sleeve, open and gaping, allowing anyone to enter and exit at will. In these moments I trust everyone, wanting so badly to feel close to my friends and peers that I create delusions of security. Everyone is my friend. Everyone can help me. Everyone cares. But this just isn’t true. People are not inherently good. Then the next day I am cold, cut off. I become meticulous in my work and focus almost obsessively upon things that will separate me from being tricked, again, into a false sense of companionship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In order to grow as a trusting person, I must first learn how to avoid internalizing each and every event in which I have been wronged. Although I recognize this fact, it is something that will take tremendous risk and courage. How can I let people close to me when, over and over again, I have watched my loved ones tear me or each other apart? How can I begin to form lasting friendships when, in multiple instances, I have had people I considered close to me deliberately broadcast information that had been discussed in confidence? I think in the instances where the person who broke my trust is someone I love, I must simply begin the process of forgiveness. For others, I must cut the ties and move on; after all, college is about finding our &lt;i&gt;true&lt;/i&gt; friends, right? There will always be a few people out there who are going to try and screw us up, but we have to ignore them. They are nobodies. They are pathetic. They are the ones who are self-conscious and sad. They are the ones so miserable with their own existence that they are willing to jeopardize one friendship in order to feel like they’re worth something to someone else. Well here’s a little note to those of you who commit these terrible acts: you’re not worth anything, and one by one, every person you try to connect with will see that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, there are those who value our trust and care for us. In my life, sometimes it's hard for me to recognize or understand when or why people try to get close to me... for some reason I think it's my job to make them feel well-liked and receive nothing in return (though I know this is untrue and a good friendship is a mutual bond). But I also know that there is no time when I feel closer to somebody then in the times where I am completely vulnerable - where my honest words and feelings establish and foster a growing relationship. I trust my friend. They trust me. And in that moment, we see goodness. We forget about the people who do not value and honor the trust that should be of high priority in everyone's lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Sigh* I digress...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trust. It’s beautiful. Through trust I know that the foundation of love begins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But trust can be broken. Trust can fade. And with this dissipation comes bitterness and anger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The key, my friends, is that we learn to keep trying. Keep trusting. But at the same time, learn to sift through the many people we encounter and find the ones who are worth our words, our thoughts, our feelings and our entire hearts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Through the dark we trudge, but we are not alone.&lt;br /&gt;In this haze and confusion, we will find the lights to take us home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep light in your life, and good luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;- - - - - - - - - - - - - -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Fitting quote:&lt;/span&gt; “I never trust people's assertions, I always judge of them by their actions.”&lt;br /&gt;~ Ann Radcliffe, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Mysteries of Udolpho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6131205994412944144-6350385192824901373?l=kedziet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/feeds/6350385192824901373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/04/trust-me.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/6350385192824901373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/6350385192824901373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/04/trust-me.html' title='Trust me...'/><author><name>Kedzie T.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03246957572980445936</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaImpe_xARI/AAAAAAAAABg/2-XjaxWmwL0/S220/n518847664_1730782_5400.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131205994412944144.post-1067662203311750321</id><published>2009-04-14T10:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T10:31:42.057-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Guilty Conscious</title><content type='html'>Dear Blog,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so sorry we haven't seen or spoken to each other in so long... What has it been, nearly a month? And yet I feel as though the last time we were together was just yesterday, commiserating over what I now refer to as "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;THE&lt;/span&gt; track dilemma." Oh, what a time that was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me just say that our separation has not been a personal choice, but rather the result of an increasingly busy life. So much has happened since "Time for a New Deal," most of it centered around my obsession with schoolwork. Honestly, if I were to add up the total number of hours I have spent in the Warren Dining hall studying and working the sum would be... terrifying. On a bright note, however, I did get my job as a summer counselor at Camp Discovery! But I suppose you already knew that from my edits to "Nickeled and Dimed." Sometimes I forget how much of my life you're actually aware of...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then there is so much you don't know! Did you hear that the Boston University Hockey team won the Division 1 National Championship? I bet you didn't- nor did you know that when the deciding goal was scored in overtime I went sprinting around my house at a pace that I haven't hit since my America East Championship meet. It was a great moment to be a Terrier, and I must admit I feel spoiled for being a part of such an amazing feat during my freshman year. Today is the Terrier Parade to celebrate the team's accomplishment and it's sure to be a thrilling experience. Maybe I'll blog about it later? We'll see...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing, writing, writing. Always such a gratifying activity once I sit down and actually pen-out a few ideas. Lately I've been wanting to interview people so badly and get back into my rhythm as a journalist. Would you believe I was sitting next to the hockey team's head coach the other day at T. Anthony's and somehow restrained myself from pulling out a pad of paper and pen? Ugh! My head was swirling with questions to ask about the championship and what it all meant for him and the team, but no... I stopped myself from journalistically geeking myself out. Waste! It would have made for a nice feature article blog, or at the very least an interesting Q+A transcript.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. All I want you to understand is that I miss you, but I'm not going to force posts simply to meet some sort of undefined deadline. When I write, I do it with reason; everything I say usually comes directly from intense feelings, beliefs or experiences. I don't put up with jotting down meaningless crap... it all has value and I don't like this sense of guilt I have for not having seen you for so long. I promise I will continue to write, post, blog, interview, scribble, jot, doodle, craft, create and express all the things that I find deserving of a high level of thought... it's just a matter of whether or not I pass it on to you, for all the public to read and analyze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't miss me too much. You know that when I come around, my words will be worth the wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your author,&lt;br /&gt;Kedzie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6131205994412944144-1067662203311750321?l=kedziet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/feeds/1067662203311750321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/04/guilty-conscious.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/1067662203311750321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/1067662203311750321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/04/guilty-conscious.html' title='Guilty Conscious'/><author><name>Kedzie T.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03246957572980445936</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaImpe_xARI/AAAAAAAAABg/2-XjaxWmwL0/S220/n518847664_1730782_5400.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131205994412944144.post-2094315603632809859</id><published>2009-03-16T22:50:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T23:36:34.042-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Time for a New Deal</title><content type='html'>Okay, I'm taking the lens and zooming out on my life for a moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here I am. Nearly 19 years old and closing in rapidly on the end of my first year of college. I'm a successful athlete, an aspiring writer, a good son and friend and a student attempting to maintain an all-A streak for his first two semesters. Seems perfect, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do live a life I should be proud of, but I'm tired of feeling obsolete. I'm always second guessing myself, frustrated with anything less than perfect and, worst of all, constantly looking to others for approval and reassurance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's time for a New Deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided that, piece by piece, I will collect the scattered fragments of my life and put them together the way I want- form my own final product: a picture I can truly be happy with. I do not wish to focus my decisions upon satisfying other peoples' expectations of me, but rather I now plan on looking at my life as something I'm living for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now don't get me wrong. I have always, and will always, pay far too much attention to the impact I have on the people who surround me. My friends, my coaches, my classmates and especially my family have all been the people for whom I have expected my best. So much of what I do is to please them...to make them proud. But I'm ready now to add myself to this list of people who I deem important; something I have never done without feeling selfish and unworthy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How am I going to do this? I'm not quite sure. I suppose it's a learning process, but it's one I am more than ready to embrace. People cannot go on satisfying others' needs without thinking of themselves. Too often people undergo situations which are nothing but detrimental to themselves, clinging desperately to the hope that what they do will make their loved ones proud. But I've decided that life is not something we must &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;get through&lt;/span&gt;- it's something I want to experience and love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth, we must recognize, is that life will be full of things we do not enjoy. But that is exactly what excites me most about waking up in the morning. Each day is a new beginning, and while I know I am simply brimming with clichés, our life is a roller-coaster full of ups and downs we must simply take with us and learn from. It's those truly low points, those traumatic falls that we all experience, which will teach us to appreciate and cherish the moments that we can say we are truly happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy. That's my New Deal. Find a way to make sure I'm happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take, for example, my career as an athlete on the Boston University track team. Before I can even begin explaining the chaos that has been my first season, you all must understand what running means to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's life. It's love. It's where I truly find myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fail. I fail at letting you see what each step symbolizes to me, what each step forces me to feel. I feel euphorioa. I feel pain. I feel and know that I'm alive and this is what is real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Running saved me from my childhood. It brought me out of depression and self-loathing. I moved from Maine to Connecticut and was harassed for my appearance. I ran. I ran. I ran until the hurting in me stopped and the hurting outside me began. My college essay was centered on the way running, though a simple sport, has paralleled itself with survival in the context of my life. Now, I run to clear my head. I run to find a center. The everyday trials and tribulations of the world mean nothing when it's five in the morning in a silent woods and the only sound that echoes upon the trees is my feet striking gravel. There is no judgment. No questioning. It's me and the path I chose, alone in a rhythmic discussion of muscle and will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can only hope that this brief explanation does justice to the sanctuary I find in running, but regardless, I must continue on with my previous dissertation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The New Deal has finally helped me with a decision I have been dwelling upon for months. Do I or do I not run track at Boston University? I promised myself that the day running became less than my passion, I would leave the track team and find my way back to the roots which have stabalized me for years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The time has come. Yes, shocking. I do not think I will be continuing my career as an active member of the BU Track and Field squad, but I say active because I will forever be a terrier. The hours of pain, blood, sweat, puke, determination and perseverance I left on that track can never, ever be erased, and will always justify my statement that yes, I am a Boston University Track Athlete. .I just don't need a red jersey to prove that I'm good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I quitting? Aside from a few personal matters that I'd rather not divulge, I am quitting for my own sanity. Track and running are not the same, take my word as fact. Track has become a job, one that demands too much and pays too little. Ironic as this fits in our struggling economy... But in all honesty, track is slowly consuming my desire to run. I find myself pacing around the training facilities wishing I could be out jogging along the river, going as far as I decide, not doing whatever it is that our work-out sheet instructs me to do, like some machine on auto-pilot. I am no longer emotionally connected to the track experience, and I would rather be out each day enjoying the freedom of a free-run than putting my body through tremendous labor and enjoying a quick 22 seconds of race time at meets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My final verdict: I run for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am resolute in my decision and I hope my friends and family can support me. As for my team, I wish them the best of luck and I will do all that I can to go and cheer for them as they compete this outdoor season.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This New Deal is underway and I must take each day in stride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Fitting Quote:&lt;/span&gt; "No matter how far, run for all you're worth. Run!"&lt;br /&gt;~ &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Battle Royale&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/6131205994412944144-2094315603632809859?l=kedziet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/feeds/2094315603632809859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/03/time-for-new-deal.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/2094315603632809859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/2094315603632809859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/03/time-for-new-deal.html' title='Time for a New Deal'/><author><name>Kedzie T.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03246957572980445936</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaImpe_xARI/AAAAAAAAABg/2-XjaxWmwL0/S220/n518847664_1730782_5400.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131205994412944144.post-2424627858703877798</id><published>2009-03-13T18:06:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T11:41:25.780-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Nickled and Dimed - Job Search 2009</title><content type='html'>Forecast for Summer Break 2009: Sunny with continuous work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SbsUycB_F8I/AAAAAAAAAEo/mwVylIomR6c/s1600-h/Post+6+%283%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 157px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SbsUycB_F8I/AAAAAAAAAEo/mwVylIomR6c/s320/Post+6+%283%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312863042164168642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As some may already know, I was turned down for a position at Boston University's Orientation this summer and now that I'm back from vacation it's time to buckledown and find work. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SbrgN4KvUBI/AAAAAAAAAEg/Zrc7E-6DDCc/s1600-h/Post+6+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 127px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SbrgN4KvUBI/AAAAAAAAAEg/Zrc7E-6DDCc/s200/Post+6+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312805239457271826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ugh... a total of 16 weeks amount to this year's summer break and I'm dreading the prospect of being jobless. Although I know I am qualified for the positions I'm applying for, I now understand that nothing is guaranteed (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;thank you BU Orientation staff for killing my confidence&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No worries. I'm hardworking and I'll build myself back up. I've already set out on the hunt!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank God for blogging... I want to keep track of what I do and what I get in terms of work for the summer, so here's a list I will continuously update:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Applied for Boston University Orientation Community Advisor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Status:&lt;/span&gt; Not hired.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Perused Craig's List Listings&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Annoying!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Contacted Hartford Writers for a Writing/Editing Position&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Status:&lt;/span&gt; Need to look into the positions they are offering and respond to their email about my intentions.&lt;br /&gt;-Not really expecting much here...&lt;br /&gt;-WOW! I got a response!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Spent my first day back from vacation out and about looking for summer jobs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Can I just say how disappointing it is to walk out of a store without an application? Too many places have gone online! *Cough* Target, Lowe's, Borders, Rita's, L.L. Bean*Cough*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Applied to South Windsor Recreation Dept: Camp Discovery&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Status:&lt;/span&gt; Handed in application and set up phone interview for March 27th and 4:00pm.&lt;br /&gt;              Interview went well...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;***JOB DECISION: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I got the job! That takes some pressure off...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Applied to Barnes and Noble&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Status:&lt;/span&gt; Handed in application. Got a reply!&lt;br /&gt;Interview at 1pm on May 20th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Applied to Showcase Cinemas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Status:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Handed in application. Awaiting reply.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Applied to Rita's Italian Ice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Status:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Handed in application. Awaiting reply.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Contacting local papers for article submission compensation opportunities&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;-Please, please, please. I need to write this summer!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;This will be exciting, won't it? I'll keep updating this list with comments and developments as each job application progresses. OY!&lt;/span&gt;&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/6131205994412944144-2424627858703877798?l=kedziet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/feeds/2424627858703877798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/03/nickled-and-dimed-job-search-2009.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/2424627858703877798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/2424627858703877798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/03/nickled-and-dimed-job-search-2009.html' title='Nickled and Dimed - Job Search 2009'/><author><name>Kedzie T.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03246957572980445936</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaImpe_xARI/AAAAAAAAABg/2-XjaxWmwL0/S220/n518847664_1730782_5400.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SbsUycB_F8I/AAAAAAAAAEo/mwVylIomR6c/s72-c/Post+6+%283%29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131205994412944144.post-1899283156745967151</id><published>2009-03-12T17:47:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T16:39:12.513-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts on Paradise</title><content type='html'>I returned home today... I was sad to leave my Spring Break utopia, but as I left the sunny beaches, a stray thought flashed through my mind. It reminded me of the final glimmers of a sunset: golden &lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; honest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I am not filled with sorrow&lt;br /&gt;because I must leave.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;These tears fall because I am grateful I had the chance to be here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SbwVpqbiQBI/AAAAAAAAAE4/UScuJWSCCYI/s1600-h/Post+5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SbwVpqbiQBI/AAAAAAAAAE4/UScuJWSCCYI/s400/Post+5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313145465898942482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope everyone had a great week.&lt;br /&gt;&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/6131205994412944144-1899283156745967151?l=kedziet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/feeds/1899283156745967151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/03/thoughts-on-paradise.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/1899283156745967151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/1899283156745967151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/03/thoughts-on-paradise.html' title='Thoughts on Paradise'/><author><name>Kedzie T.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03246957572980445936</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaImpe_xARI/AAAAAAAAABg/2-XjaxWmwL0/S220/n518847664_1730782_5400.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SbwVpqbiQBI/AAAAAAAAAE4/UScuJWSCCYI/s72-c/Post+5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131205994412944144.post-3630350180871067325</id><published>2009-03-07T08:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T17:47:22.872-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Pleasure of People Watching</title><content type='html'>It’s Spring Break!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite my original plans to spend the week at home, I find myself at the arrivals area of the Fort Myers airport, anticipating the appearance of three friends with whom I will share this unexpected vacation. I’m more than happy to be here… I’m enthralled. I’m amped. I’m psyched. I’m pumped. I’m whatever it is that describes an intense feeling of excitement. My friends were more than generous to help me get here. I needed this getaway…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, if there’s one thing I like about traveling it’s the time I spend people watching. No, I’m not creeping… What I mean is that traveling brings out a really good side of the world which I often forget exists. Yes, people can get angry and frustrated with cancellations, delays and incompetent workers (you know it’s true!), but no matter what, traveling shows me that love really is out there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m getting all &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Love Actually&lt;/span&gt; on you, I know. But I think that movie captures and portrays a fact about human life that is often lost within the chaos and confusion of everyday life: love really does exist. Although I am a frequent speaker about the atrocious habits of human society, including our ability to be cold, unforgiving and &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;bad&lt;/span&gt; without just cause, it’s the time I spend watching all these unknown travelers that proves to me that &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;goodness&lt;/span&gt; does exist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who are not familiar with the movie I’m referencing, let me repeat to you the opening monologue:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often, it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there - fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I've got a sneaking suspicion... love actually is all around” (&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Love Actually&lt;/span&gt; 2003)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Airports are stages upon which true human decency makes its debut. I can sit here, alone with my laptop, and still I cannot block out the sounds and sights of the families and friends reuniting and parting with the ones they love. I see grandparents standing with balloons… a woman standing with her hands clutched together tightly, looking over the vast crowds for her long-time friend… and a man standing teary eyed as he embraces the return of the woman he has loved since the very first time they spoke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every single person I watch, I envy. Love is beautiful and yet I have little faith in it. As my grandmother once said, there is a lid for every pot, and I know one day we will all find the people that make us truly happy. For me, at this point in my life, it’s my friends and family. I love them. I could not make it through the ups and downs of my hectic life if it were not for their support. While my family has always been a very big source of love and encouragement, my friends are the family &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;chose&lt;/span&gt; for my own, separate, and personal life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, what is so incredible to me is the way in which airports, worldwide, show us the true and raw feelings we have for the people who mean the most. Take, for example, the departure gate; a place where even the strongest find themselves weak; where even the most stable find themselves crumbling. If love did not exist, the parting of those closest to us would not provoke such intense feelings of sadness, regret and anger towards their absence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will always enjoy traveling for the happiness I feel about arriving at my destination, but I know it is the time I spend watching and taking part in the loving moments of the people around me that will make my travels worth every penny. Each and every day we are surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of people we never meet or even notice, but what I want everyone to realize is that we are all connected through one basic desire: the desire to feel, experience and be in love. Whether it’s family, a friend, or someone we want to spend the rest of our lives with, love &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; all around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let’s go out there and find it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6131205994412944144-3630350180871067325?l=kedziet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/feeds/3630350180871067325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/03/power-of-people-watching.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/3630350180871067325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/3630350180871067325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/03/power-of-people-watching.html' title='The Pleasure of People Watching'/><author><name>Kedzie T.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03246957572980445936</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaImpe_xARI/AAAAAAAAABg/2-XjaxWmwL0/S220/n518847664_1730782_5400.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131205994412944144.post-5709327315932685318</id><published>2009-03-02T08:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T18:44:54.768-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Let the Snow Fall</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;In honor of the massive storm hitting us today, I thought I would commemorate the moment with a poem I found. Let's be honest; a snow day at Boston University is a rarity, so enjoy these well-crafted words and settle down for a day inside, coffee in hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SavqVAzmmPI/AAAAAAAAADw/8mgdY3a_L0s/s1600-h/Post3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 131px; height: 145px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SavqVAzmmPI/AAAAAAAAADw/8mgdY3a_L0s/s200/Post3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308594232500852978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SavrB9ULtII/AAAAAAAAAD4/L7fImbujLFE/s1600-h/Post3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 131px; height: 145px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SavrB9ULtII/AAAAAAAAAD4/L7fImbujLFE/s200/Post3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308595004657874050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);font-family:courier new;font-size:180%;"  &gt;Ode to a Snowflake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);font-family:times new roman,times;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman,times;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;by Ruth Sutherland&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;table style="border-collapse: collapse;" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;Innocent little snowflake&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;       &lt;/tr&gt;       &lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;         &lt;td&gt;&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;Drifting slowly down&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;       &lt;/tr&gt;       &lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;         &lt;td&gt;&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;How could you become a menace&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;       &lt;/tr&gt;       &lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;         &lt;td&gt;&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;Or a hazard to our town?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table style="border-collapse: collapse;" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;But ere the little snowflake&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;       &lt;/tr&gt;       &lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;         &lt;td&gt;&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;Had disappeared from view&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;       &lt;/tr&gt;       &lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;         &lt;td&gt;&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;One more followed then another&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;       &lt;/tr&gt;       &lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;         &lt;td&gt;&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;Faster now and larger, too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table style="border-collapse: collapse;" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;Whirling, swirling, thru the sky now&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;       &lt;/tr&gt;       &lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;         &lt;td&gt;&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;Tumbling gaily all around&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;       &lt;/tr&gt;       &lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;         &lt;td&gt;&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;Fairly bouncing as they pile up&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;       &lt;/tr&gt;       &lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;         &lt;td&gt;&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;On the ground.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table style="border-collapse: collapse;" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;Snow bespeckled lawns and driveways&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;       &lt;/tr&gt;       &lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;         &lt;td&gt;&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;Streets and sidewalks turning white&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;       &lt;/tr&gt;       &lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;         &lt;td&gt;&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;Little faces pressed to windows&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;       &lt;/tr&gt;       &lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;         &lt;td&gt;&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;Exclamations of delight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table style="border-collapse: collapse;" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;Spinning wheels and grinding motors&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;       &lt;/tr&gt;       &lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;         &lt;td&gt;&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;Windshield wipers struggling now&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;       &lt;/tr&gt;       &lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;         &lt;td&gt;&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;Buses halted, people stranded&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;       &lt;/tr&gt;       &lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;         &lt;td&gt;&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;Cinder crews out, then the snow plow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table style="border-collapse: collapse;" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;Slower now the snow is falling&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;       &lt;/tr&gt;       &lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;         &lt;td&gt;&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;'Til the last flake flutters down&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;       &lt;/tr&gt;       &lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;         &lt;td&gt;&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;Lonely little snowflake&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;       &lt;/tr&gt;       &lt;tr style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;         &lt;td&gt;&lt;!--mstheme--&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman,Times;"&gt;Crippling our town.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;Originally published in the book "Poems to Ponder"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&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/6131205994412944144-5709327315932685318?l=kedziet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/feeds/5709327315932685318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/03/let-snow-fall.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/5709327315932685318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/5709327315932685318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/03/let-snow-fall.html' title='Let the Snow Fall'/><author><name>Kedzie T.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03246957572980445936</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaImpe_xARI/AAAAAAAAABg/2-XjaxWmwL0/S220/n518847664_1730782_5400.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SavqVAzmmPI/AAAAAAAAADw/8mgdY3a_L0s/s72-c/Post3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131205994412944144.post-3573460219713234988</id><published>2009-03-01T13:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T18:12:08.225-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Winds of Change</title><content type='html'>I had been hoping that my next blog would be a summary of last week's America East Championships, but... it's a little late for that now. Long story short, the women's team took the Indoor Championship for the fourth year in a row and the men are looking good to threaten the competition outdoor after finishing 5th despite a large number of injuries. For those of you unfamiliar with the East-coast leagues, America East includes Albany, Binghamton, Boston University, Hartford, Maine, UBC, New Hampshire, Stonybrook and Vermont.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SarfYwRTXiI/AAAAAAAAACI/8OKSnWQ2_08/s1600-h/AmericaEast-championship.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 129px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SarfYwRTXiI/AAAAAAAAACI/8OKSnWQ2_08/s200/AmericaEast-championship.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308300727176879650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;What I plan on discussing today is simple: the ridiculousness that is New England weather!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two days ago I exited my dorm in Boston in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;shorts&lt;/span&gt;, happy to have a break from the frigid winter cold. Granted, I enjoy chilly temperatures, but this was not the case- it was legitimately &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;warm&lt;/span&gt;. Would I really walk a mile to track practice in shorts and a t-shirt otherwise? No. I'm not that strange. Keep in mind, the day was February 27th, a time  when snow usually dominates the forecast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SarijmEbsUI/AAAAAAAAACY/OQMcp36ebdI/s1600-h/Post+2+%284%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SarijmEbsUI/AAAAAAAAACY/OQMcp36ebdI/s320/Post+2+%284%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308304211951989058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Little did I know, it still does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;March 1st and here I sit, bundled in blankets next to my laptop, ready to spend a long day inside avoiding the dreaded weather. What is it I'm bracing myself for? &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Fourteen&lt;/span&gt; inches of snow. Now the pleasant memory of walking through Boston in spring-like warmth is shattered and the fear of winter treachery sets in. How unlucky it is that this is the weekend I came home from school to relax...  It looks like I might have to cut this vacation short and head back to Beantown via bus this evening. Otherwise, this wonderful Nor'easter will spell nothing but disaster for traveling in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SarmUc2QgmI/AAAAAAAAADg/_6XQxLbYhGk/s1600-h/Post+2+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 244px; height: 307px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SarmUc2QgmI/AAAAAAAAADg/_6XQxLbYhGk/s320/Post+2+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308308349825090146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;With the erratic changes in weather we have been experiencing over the past decade or so, all I ever seem to hear is people chanting the phrase "Global Warming!" Well, I hate to break it to you but it's time we start changing our sing-along to "Global Climate Change!" Let's look at this storm, for example. While I relax by the window, watching the first wave of snow fall peacefully upon my lawn, a monster awaits on the horizon. The entire east coast is under assault and would you like to know what the big story is?&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The south is getting snow too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SarjWKA7EvI/AAAAAAAAACo/qZFkx0wq4I0/s1600-h/Post+2+%283%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 135px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SarjWKA7EvI/AAAAAAAAACo/qZFkx0wq4I0/s200/Post+2+%283%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308305080594404082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, states like Georgia and Alabama are enjoying (or hating) the rare sight of snow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, this is just one minor example of an opposite change in climate change, but it's time people recognize the truth of our altering world. While the ocean temperatures are rising and poles suffer retreating glaciers, other sections of the globe are actually getting colder. North-West Europe is actually forecasted to experience its coldest winters on record in the next ten years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, okay. I'm trying to stress a fact that isn't really important. Let's just get one thing straight: the climate is undergoing dramatic change and we need to do something to stop it. That is what is important- we need to change our lifestyles to try and prevent the destruction of our planet. The way we are treating the Earth now is atrocious and many people are unaware of the impact we are having. Did you know that an estimated 137 animals go extinct each day and that almost 50,000 are predicted to be wiped from existence each year? And that's only including the species we know of...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you find youself among the group of people who don't care about animals, I hate to be the one to tell you this but we too are a species susceptible to the dangers of a changing globe. As the polar sheets of ice melt, they are adding huge amounts of cold water into the ocean, disrupting the thermohaline circulation of water across the planet. Getting a little more specific, let's look at the Gulf Stream, the natural conveyorbelt that flows along the east coast of the United States and swings over to Europe, circling all of the Northern Atlantic. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SarkHN89ZMI/AAAAAAAAADA/5jgR6F4Bouc/s1600-h/Post+2+%285%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 169px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SarkHN89ZMI/AAAAAAAAADA/5jgR6F4Bouc/s400/Post+2+%285%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308305923465110722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The addition of cold, deep water could slow down the natural circulation until it reaches a complete stop. I can't even imagine the horrors that would unfold from the  disappearence of the Gulf Stream considering its role in the world's climate... Do some research, google the topic and see for yourself all the predictions on a world without the GS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/Sarku3qWcLI/AAAAAAAAADQ/1sUg8_EX8Vo/s1600-h/Post+2+%286%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 244px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/Sarku3qWcLI/AAAAAAAAADQ/1sUg8_EX8Vo/s320/Post+2+%286%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308306604676247730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We need to start focusing more time and attention on alternate means of energy. Clean energy. Why don't we invest more money into the production of solar and wind-generated power? These two resources are unlimited and yet we have failed to harness the beauty and strength. What about looking in to geothermal? There are so many options out their for our societies to tap into, and yet we aren't doing it. I'm tired of hearing people use absurd complaints to justify their lack of interest in implementing new technologies. The best one I've heard might be the claim that wind turbines are ugly and would not look good in people's perfect little cities. Get over it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;The planet is changing. Whether or not you believe it is the fault of man is your own decision, but to sit back and pretend everything is okay is absolute insanity. I'll sit here and enjoy the unexpected snowfall that I've come to love as a New Englander, but I guarantee you the people of Georgia are less that enthusiastic about their day's forecast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People say that freak weather like snow in the south happens once every blue moon. I'm glad my favorite color is blue.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6131205994412944144-3573460219713234988?l=kedziet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/feeds/3573460219713234988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-had-been-hoping-that-my-next-blog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/3573460219713234988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/3573460219713234988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-had-been-hoping-that-my-next-blog.html' title='The Winds of Change'/><author><name>Kedzie T.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03246957572980445936</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaImpe_xARI/AAAAAAAAABg/2-XjaxWmwL0/S220/n518847664_1730782_5400.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SarfYwRTXiI/AAAAAAAAACI/8OKSnWQ2_08/s72-c/AmericaEast-championship.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131205994412944144.post-9097506181116036930</id><published>2009-02-22T21:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T23:26:30.263-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Little Bit of Blogging Never Hurt Anyone... Right?</title><content type='html'>Here it goes... I'm officially a blogger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hoping the first post is the hardest. I've sat here, sadly, for about 30 minutes writing and rewriting the first few lines of this entry, hoping foolishly for some spark of clever genius. Haha. Fail. So I'm going to forget about all the pressure of jotting down "perfect words" and instead go with whatever flows (besides, who's actually reading this thing anyways?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaIjjn7sM5I/AAAAAAAAABM/nnChDVOiBUA/s1600-h/n518847664_1743913_3813.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 219px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaIjjn7sM5I/AAAAAAAAABM/nnChDVOiBUA/s320/n518847664_1743913_3813.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305842405917602706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I suppose I'll start by talking about myself. Maybe, just maybe, someone I don't know will subscribe to my blog and actually care about who it is writing this brilliant work. For those of you reading who DO know me *cough* the Free Spirits *cough* I'm sure you're all waiting anxiously to read more details about my fascinating life. Well, my name is Kedzie Teller and I'm currently a freshman at Boston University as a journalism major and Spanish minor. I am also a member of the BU Track and Field team specializing in sprints. I'm a Terrier, a Bostonian and originally a Mainer. I actually come from Connecticut, but I grew up in Maine and it will always be my home. [Insert shout-out to Scarborough here]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to talk all that much on this first post considering it's about... nothing... and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Keep Track&lt;/span&gt; will definitely have purpose. I'll be commentating on a lot of different things, not just my own life. But of course my hectic, interesting and sometimes debaucherous daily happenings will make up the majority of my entries. As a runner you can be sure I'll be highlighting the Boston University track team's accomplishments and every now and then I might write a few spotlights on the unique people I meet and interact with every day. All in all, you'll be able to keep track of the world through my eyes, and that's bound to be fun; trust me, I'm a reporter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6131205994412944144-9097506181116036930?l=kedziet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/feeds/9097506181116036930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/02/little-bit-of-blogging-never-hurt.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/9097506181116036930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6131205994412944144/posts/default/9097506181116036930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kedziet.blogspot.com/2009/02/little-bit-of-blogging-never-hurt.html' title='A Little Bit of Blogging Never Hurt Anyone... Right?'/><author><name>Kedzie T.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03246957572980445936</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaImpe_xARI/AAAAAAAAABg/2-XjaxWmwL0/S220/n518847664_1730782_5400.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Xrgsh7RpFc8/SaIjjn7sM5I/AAAAAAAAABM/nnChDVOiBUA/s72-c/n518847664_1743913_3813.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
