<?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-3445081100473004818</id><updated>2011-09-25T11:53:37.394-07:00</updated><title type='text'>off with your head</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>34</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-4783214414490527266</id><published>2011-08-13T21:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-13T21:32:42.053-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I'm actually a little offended for once.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-4783214414490527266?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/4783214414490527266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/08/im-actually-little-offended-for-once.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/4783214414490527266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/4783214414490527266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/08/im-actually-little-offended-for-once.html' title=''/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-1381192271155931466</id><published>2011-08-13T01:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-13T01:02:29.025-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5M4mk844EyA/TkYve6qpm5I/AAAAAAAAAEo/dpB0E98RbL0/s1600/http___makeagif_com_media_8-03-2011_0JANQS.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 262px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5640247791518849938" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5M4mk844EyA/TkYve6qpm5I/AAAAAAAAAEo/dpB0E98RbL0/s320/http___makeagif_com_media_8-03-2011_0JANQS.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&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/3445081100473004818-1381192271155931466?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/1381192271155931466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/08/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/1381192271155931466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/1381192271155931466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/08/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5M4mk844EyA/TkYve6qpm5I/AAAAAAAAAEo/dpB0E98RbL0/s72-c/http___makeagif_com_media_8-03-2011_0JANQS.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-3035828752617461839</id><published>2011-08-13T00:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-13T00:49:08.411-07:00</updated><title type='text'>this is not about you or the stranger sitting to my left.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;this is the way I felt when you left my hanging on every noun, verb, adjective that came rolling off your tounge as you spoke your bittersweet nothings.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;you deleted me from your life just as easily as you did off your facebook.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;time wasted dwelling over how to make you like me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;unessesary insecurites because of your fears&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;choking in your throat and spilling out into insults headed in my direction.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the strength for me to move on came from you leaving me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;trying to hurt me discretely forever would have been your best bet, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;but you choose to try to hurt me publicly, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and that, my dearest, horribly sickening disease, is something that will not do with me.&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/3445081100473004818-3035828752617461839?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/3035828752617461839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/08/this-is-not-about-you-or-stranger.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/3035828752617461839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/3035828752617461839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/08/this-is-not-about-you-or-stranger.html' title='this is not about you or the stranger sitting to my left.'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-4586107094151696692</id><published>2011-08-13T00:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-13T00:33:17.996-07:00</updated><title type='text'>what a catch.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;If I could make you see under my skin, what crawls in my veins, breaks my bones, punctures my heart, devours my soul, and what leaves a gaping hole in my brain, breathing would be a foreign task.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-4586107094151696692?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/4586107094151696692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/08/what-catch.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/4586107094151696692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/4586107094151696692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/08/what-catch.html' title='what a catch.'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-4106764355570755272</id><published>2011-08-12T23:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-13T00:04:32.234-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things you should know about me now.</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm becoming more caring, understanding, and sentimental towards people. Its a process, but I'm getting the hang of it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Out of all my "friends" I used to care about I only have about five I even care about anymore, suck off, (welp that just contradicts the first statement)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Nothing matters more to me then trying to figure out what I want out of life when the summer ends. Its already leaving a bittersweet taste in my mouth.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My insomnia is almost gone, either that or I'm staying up so late from work that me sleeping in is me thinking I'm actually sleeping now.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My confidence level is through the roof I just need my hairs to grow.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I wouldn't stop any of this if I could. You wanna know why? Because no matter how soft I get, I'm always going to kick you and life in the ass and then kiss your face later.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm free of the asshole thats been tormenting me since spring break and it felt good just to RIP on him and not give a DAMN about how he felt for once.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;This fall is going to be great all because of Lansing.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I still can't believe I have my high school diploma I feel like crying everytime I see it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm still only open about certain things, such as me hating you, but not about my sex life.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-4106764355570755272?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/4106764355570755272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/08/things-you-should-know-about-me-now.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/4106764355570755272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/4106764355570755272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/08/things-you-should-know-about-me-now.html' title='Things you should know about me now.'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-3908918474094465297</id><published>2011-04-25T17:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-25T18:29:30.661-07:00</updated><title type='text'>mark my words</title><content type='html'>whether its water from the sky or water from my eyes,&lt;br /&gt;you're always in my brain and always wanted through your lies.&lt;br /&gt;I'm seeing the way you hate me and the way they all stare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm feeling the lies through your lines.&lt;br /&gt;Like death chills your spine.&lt;br /&gt;You'll never come back to that but you'll come back to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-3908918474094465297?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/3908918474094465297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/04/mark-my-words.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/3908918474094465297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/3908918474094465297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/04/mark-my-words.html' title='mark my words'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-2514740173631045799</id><published>2011-04-24T13:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-24T13:25:22.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ruined.</title><content type='html'>I don't believe in love, so don't try to make me fall for your amber eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hearts literally cold even for my friends nowadays. I can't stand it when people utter the words "I love you, " to me. You don't know whats in my mind and if you did you wouldn't "love me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Secretly, I'm hoping you'll show me what it really is, but until then, I don't believe in love. People are interesting, and I love them but they don't love me. Thats how it is for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-2514740173631045799?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/2514740173631045799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/04/ruined.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/2514740173631045799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/2514740173631045799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/04/ruined.html' title='ruined.'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-6803750886845733917</id><published>2011-04-24T13:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-24T13:07:36.623-07:00</updated><title type='text'>wasted</title><content type='html'>I CANNOT BELIEVE I WASTED ALMOST HALF MY ADOLESCENCE ON YOU.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are not even worth the grime off the bottom off my shoe. Your new skank shows me your hypocrisy. I could always see right through you, its disgusting that I thought I was in love. I'm so mad at myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-6803750886845733917?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/6803750886845733917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/04/wasted.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/6803750886845733917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/6803750886845733917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/04/wasted.html' title='wasted'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-2524369889605638494</id><published>2011-04-19T19:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-19T20:17:12.150-07:00</updated><title type='text'>favorite things</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-unPCxhNBee8/Ta5O4-mQxvI/AAAAAAAAADo/kjywAZdjC_A/s1600/imagesCA1ZP7XK.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 237px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597498127651227378" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-unPCxhNBee8/Ta5O4-mQxvI/AAAAAAAAADo/kjywAZdjC_A/s320/imagesCA1ZP7XK.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;my constellation/star sign. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gSgv9jDXvLg/Ta5O4lmbLUI/AAAAAAAAADg/7ABNLQ6Xlkg/s1600/aquarius4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 234px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597498120941022530" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gSgv9jDXvLg/Ta5O4lmbLUI/AAAAAAAAADg/7ABNLQ6Xlkg/s320/aquarius4.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2-TVq0gw-n8/Ta5O4C7XB1I/AAAAAAAAADY/ZFawYIn2O5I/s1600/Video%2Bcall%2Bsnapshot%2B13.png"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597498111633590098" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2-TVq0gw-n8/Ta5O4C7XB1I/AAAAAAAAADY/ZFawYIn2O5I/s320/Video%2Bcall%2Bsnapshot%2B13.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me and my twin are hot, I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hHPcJ9MbN0s/Ta5O31CoYAI/AAAAAAAAADQ/dtqtdtr4KD4/s1600/Video%2Bcall%2Bsnapshot%2B18.png"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597498107905990658" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hHPcJ9MbN0s/Ta5O31CoYAI/AAAAAAAAADQ/dtqtdtr4KD4/s320/Video%2Bcall%2Bsnapshot%2B18.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did this in my English class today, in front of everyone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dig it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y7tzWKB7xeU/Ta5GSdQGBHI/AAAAAAAAADI/XhU_EgHBcMg/s1600/Northern-Lights.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597488669771826290" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y7tzWKB7xeU/Ta5GSdQGBHI/AAAAAAAAADI/XhU_EgHBcMg/s320/Northern-Lights.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;the northern lights, both of these are in canada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W4c_Ah8zBgo/Ta5GSIWFdxI/AAAAAAAAADA/57gV2XnoQs8/s1600/canada-northern-lights_jpg_2092326501.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 211px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597488664159811346" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W4c_Ah8zBgo/Ta5GSIWFdxI/AAAAAAAAADA/57gV2XnoQs8/s320/canada-northern-lights_jpg_2092326501.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bZwyE8pm_38/Ta5GRrxRD5I/AAAAAAAAAC4/UeNRTKjB8DQ/s1600/full-moon-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597488656489189266" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bZwyE8pm_38/Ta5GRrxRD5I/AAAAAAAAAC4/UeNRTKjB8DQ/s320/full-moon-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the moon is so beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mcahjscSSLs/Ta5GRVORuTI/AAAAAAAAACw/FKhQILWcDps/s1600/3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597488650436852018" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mcahjscSSLs/Ta5GRVORuTI/AAAAAAAAACw/FKhQILWcDps/s320/3.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the boys in my trio/band are really the only ones that&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;will ever be good enough to me to even consider dating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3eh9242LQhQ/Ta5GRNGLw6I/AAAAAAAAACo/ywjVLfJkkUA/s1600/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 276px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 183px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597488648255423394" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3eh9242LQhQ/Ta5GRNGLw6I/AAAAAAAAACo/ywjVLfJkkUA/s320/images.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ok go! enough said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&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;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-2524369889605638494?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/2524369889605638494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/04/favorite-things.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/2524369889605638494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/2524369889605638494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/04/favorite-things.html' title='favorite things'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-unPCxhNBee8/Ta5O4-mQxvI/AAAAAAAAADo/kjywAZdjC_A/s72-c/imagesCA1ZP7XK.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-3465921328178960879</id><published>2011-04-17T20:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-17T21:08:38.148-07:00</updated><title type='text'>acceptance and rejection</title><content type='html'>I can't wait until this week is over. I just want to crawl in a hole and die already. List of things that probably make me a sad person/list of things that probably shouldn't happen: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;If someone ever learned some Buddy Holly for me, played guitar and sang awesome along with it, I'd automatically hop into bed with them. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;I laughed during the whole church service today and couldn't take anything they said seriously AND kept making dirty jokes in up in my head about the whole service. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;No matter how hard I try, I always fall for artists and muscians. Its gross.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sometimes I go to the bathroom but not really GO to the bathroom or have a cigarette just to be by myself when I'm with other people.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;I don't facebook creep, I youtube creep.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;I've been in love with the same guy since fifth grade, and hes not a celebrity.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;I hate everyone today.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;I think spitting on people I hate is okay, when really thats not okay in any circumstance.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;I like hearing myself sing, when I'm in the car by myself I don't even turn the radio on. I just sing.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;This blog.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Yep, this weekend was messed up.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-3465921328178960879?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/3465921328178960879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/04/acceptance-and-rejection.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/3465921328178960879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/3465921328178960879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/04/acceptance-and-rejection.html' title='acceptance and rejection'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-1203927330944779252</id><published>2011-04-17T01:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-17T01:04:53.228-07:00</updated><title type='text'>True Love Ways - Buddy Holly ( Cover )</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8DTK5eukRG8?fs=1" frameborder="0" width="425" allowfullscreen=""&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-1203927330944779252?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/1203927330944779252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/04/true-love-ways-buddy-holly-cover.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/1203927330944779252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/1203927330944779252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/04/true-love-ways-buddy-holly-cover.html' title='True Love Ways - Buddy Holly ( Cover )'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/8DTK5eukRG8/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-2986617592006597432</id><published>2011-04-14T22:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-14T22:16:13.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I said that.</title><content type='html'>"Theres nothing more attractive than a no bullshit attitude, but a sense of humor is something you need to get you through life too, you know?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-2986617592006597432?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/2986617592006597432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-said-that.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/2986617592006597432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/2986617592006597432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-said-that.html' title='I said that.'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-1573917855507865823</id><published>2011-04-13T21:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-13T21:57:31.999-07:00</updated><title type='text'>save your own skin.</title><content type='html'>the complexity of your body on mine, the feeling of holding my breath until the end of time. inhale in the black smoke of your lies, inhale in the clean air of your smiles, exhale the words all spill out, exhale more they go from your ears to the floor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-1573917855507865823?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/1573917855507865823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/04/save-your-own-skin.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/1573917855507865823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/1573917855507865823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/04/save-your-own-skin.html' title='save your own skin.'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-5791945276332506587</id><published>2011-04-13T18:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-13T21:52:46.752-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I've got your letter, you've got my song</title><content type='html'>Heres the "low down on my life" : &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am realizing how hard growing up actually is. I don't like it but I'm going to try to push forward and get through highschool so I can live up to my potential in college.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have had so much drama in just this week I've literally thought about throwing myself down a flight of stairs multiple times. I hate bitch problems and girls. Call me butch, but I love boys SO much more.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;I lost a huge check. I'm so pissed at myself. My dad blames it on me not going to church and not being "strong in my faith". I blame it on me being a dumbass and not having a purse with a zipper on it. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;I also managed to loose my glasses, hence why I'm so pissy this week, I CAN'T SEE A DAMN THING. Not cool, ever.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;I spit on someone today. I've never felt so alive and nasty in my life.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;LAST THING TO LOOSE THIS WEEK HOPEFULLY, one of my degus is on the loose. Shes either dead or running around outside somewhere. So if anybody wants a cute little critter, let me know. I might just give the remaining one to the library if Tilly doesn't come back, she is so sad alone.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm also falling for some weird ass with an awesome vibe and smile. I am still considering just doing crap and not getting into a relationship though. I run, I hide and I run some more, again.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Being vague and honest are my two best qualities as of now.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I dyed my hair again, not because I got bored, because I actually hated having blonde hair. Oh yeah, and to piss my mom off. I love her to pieces but I don't like my blonde hair.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;My social life is STILL stressing me out and giving me chin zits, not cool. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-5791945276332506587?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/5791945276332506587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/04/ive-got-your-letter-youve-got-my-song.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/5791945276332506587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/5791945276332506587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/04/ive-got-your-letter-youve-got-my-song.html' title='I&apos;ve got your letter, you&apos;ve got my song'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-7217916911694578458</id><published>2011-03-24T18:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-05T23:39:21.215-07:00</updated><title type='text'>be okay</title><content type='html'>dklfjdsokfhsdiuagsdhiofphasdiofsjdfi;lsdhfsduioafhsdioafhsdaiofhsdafiojsdfiojsdfiodhguioertjsdoapvjdfoghdfioguasdopfjsdioghdfiogasdiopfjsdiogfdhsgiosdahfisdfhiosdghdas[ioghsdioaghsdofjsdioghdfioagasd&lt;br /&gt;hgdiosghsdiogsgjsdgshaog[jsdiofjdsopa[fjopsdigtsdgtrhogtsdgasdjopfjsdo[gfhiopdyaiof[jsd[dsjfdas[pfjsd][fa&lt;br /&gt;gjdsoig[igggjsdopfjsdfjioerhjmsdoacm,asdkogtjreiowaurpaskovdfnfsdjiapfhs[po&lt;br /&gt;gdfhiopghas[ofjsdofjdasio[fdiatoerhyfiodsnklbgadfhsgohfosdi[jsdovfasl'mckoasdhgeroaitas&lt;br /&gt;jkasdfhdpasifhasdiopghdifutyaerifvmkldfghadsoifjdsoagjroiavkmlpvnjisdfhtraefjx ldntiq43r0392eu23=04u32905mdaskfjsda&lt;br /&gt;fhdsfojas[oghsdoig[her9i[thaer9[-sdghasjfjdserjotiuaeiofjdlavjaksdgheriou[asjdfiogha[ghadioghadiofhe9r&lt;br /&gt;akshfdfiopahfps[fja[sdjf[dsdgnjeroipthj[a&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/3445081100473004818-7217916911694578458?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/7217916911694578458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/03/be-okay.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/7217916911694578458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/7217916911694578458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/03/be-okay.html' title='be okay'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-6648276641215501505</id><published>2011-03-21T06:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-21T06:49:44.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>grind, daily.</title><content type='html'>This weekend was NUTS. Let me just give you a briefing on what occured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Friday, &lt;/strong&gt;I was rushed around afterschool to go to a show at Mac's Bar in Lansing. I rode in a trunk with WH everywhere we went, attempted to play chess in the trunk,  got accidentely high off gas fumes, (we didn't know the can had fume-age until Jake told us to hand him the can and then the can was about to explode.) almost had my first upchuck in the bar, got mulitple bruises from "brutal" skankers and moshers and crazed fans, got spit on, got sweat thrown on me, talked to beautiful boys with beautiful stretched ears, met several of the band members, then I got to spend the night with my lovely girlfriend, Milly. I didn't shower until the next morning, which is disgusting because I was covered with nasty shit and sweat and it was gross. I don't think I've ever felt more relieved to get in the shower in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, maybe I'm being a little dramatic about the shower thing,&lt;br /&gt;I've gone to shows in the summer, and thats about as nasty &amp;amp; sweat covered you can get.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Saturday, &lt;/strong&gt;I just barely got home when I was inspired to go get things for my stupid, waste of effort senior project. So, I called my right hand hoe and got ready at her house to go to brighton. We picked WH and Sublime up and took their asses with our asses. One of two miracles happened to me during this time,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;#1)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;  &lt;/strong&gt;I lost my liscense in Milanas car I guess, so my checks weren't working at PetSmart and my idiodic minions were off looking at some exotic fish shit, so in the midst of my freaking out, the guy behind me payed for my degu's chew toys. I started crying from being so happy and relieved. This made me realize how good the world actually is sometimes and I felt so greatful.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;#2) &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Went through the Starbucks drivethrough and right when I got to the window a very attractive guy started talking to me like we've known eachother for years. The last thing I said to him? "Oh, I mean, you don't look old, you look like you're like 21 though." This is stupid of me and I should be beat with a bat many times because I should have asked for his number.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after our trip to Brighton, Morgz and me came home, ate several pickles, played battleship&amp;amp;Clue then ate dinner with her family and the boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made her go for a walk, two actually. Tyler too. Then I proceeded to mack on some kid that has the same music taste as me to the tee and is a libra, both are such attractive traits that when I'm around him I don't know what to do with myself. Being around a fellow air sign is refreshing. Hes also quiet so hes hard to figure out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, hes intriguing and a hillarious sleeper.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I'd ever make out with him though.&lt;br /&gt;Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sunday,&lt;/strong&gt;  Came home from Morgz house and hung out with my sister all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This weekend was boss. I'd replay it over and over again if I could.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-6648276641215501505?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/6648276641215501505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/03/grind-daily.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/6648276641215501505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/6648276641215501505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/03/grind-daily.html' title='grind, daily.'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-8620869347642726614</id><published>2011-03-16T18:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-05T21:09:29.372-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the truth is</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I wish so badly I could hate you. I would never talk to you again because I don't talk to people I don't like and I surely don't talk to people I hate.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wish I could love you, you deserve that from me, but I don't feel the same way. I don't ever think I will love you. I don't ever think I'll be good enough for you anyways.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wish I never would have permed my hair, its hard to be looked at so weirdly sometimes, even if it does make me "different".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-8620869347642726614?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/8620869347642726614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/03/truth-is.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/8620869347642726614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/8620869347642726614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/03/truth-is.html' title='the truth is'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-1119846209443083693</id><published>2011-03-15T12:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-15T12:55:20.694-07:00</updated><title type='text'>discovery</title><content type='html'>How am I supposed to tell you no when I like boy attention?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I complain about you all the time and I have other guys that pay PLENTY of attention to me. Shit I could even be with one of them right now if I wanted to. But here I sit, pissed and happy with you wishing when you kissed me it wasn't out of spite of her and wishing you'd just stop fucking around with me. I don't find it cool at all that you make me feel so good and so bad. But mostly just bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I wish I were as mean as I put myself out to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-1119846209443083693?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/1119846209443083693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/03/discovery.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/1119846209443083693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/1119846209443083693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/03/discovery.html' title='discovery'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-4860975140037734389</id><published>2011-03-14T20:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-14T21:11:37.569-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I could sleep well if only I tried</title><content type='html'>Sometimes, I hate boys and wish I really were lesbian. Like seriously, I wish the rumors that spread because of my hair were true. It would be easier, but then again not because I'd have a bitch problem all day everyday because of a girl friend. I guess that happens when you have boyfriends too. This is why fwbs are good and I've made out with 63 people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't sleep as usual.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-4860975140037734389?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/4860975140037734389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-could-sleep-well-if-only-i-tried.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/4860975140037734389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/4860975140037734389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-could-sleep-well-if-only-i-tried.html' title='I could sleep well if only I tried'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-855235103715176206</id><published>2011-02-21T15:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-21T17:02:56.562-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Heavy Duty Rear Suspension</title><content type='html'>Found the title of the blog on one of my old english papers. I'm pretty sure me and Ketchup were talking about my teachers ass, so thats great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend seems never ending, in a good way. If we have school tommorow I'm going to try to throw myself down the stairs and cause bodily harm to myself just so I don't have to go. That seems a little dramatic but seriously, I will. Either that or I'll trip down the stairs on accident, I seem to do that a good once every two weeks anyways so maybe tommorow will be another lucky day in a day in the life of a professional klutz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to lay in bed and catch narcolepsy so I'll have a reason to not wake up or go to school and appreatiate my friends more and life more in general when I was awake. I would have vivid dreams and just drift off whenever my body said its time. Narcolepsy would be great.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-855235103715176206?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/855235103715176206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/02/heavy-duty-rear-suspension.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/855235103715176206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/855235103715176206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/02/heavy-duty-rear-suspension.html' title='Heavy Duty Rear Suspension'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-6117407171733636281</id><published>2011-02-06T22:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-06T22:31:08.355-08:00</updated><title type='text'>age of aquarius</title><content type='html'>I've always been careful with choosing my words especially if I need them to sting someone. What I mean by that is, I'll say something to get someone to get them to think about what I said then when they read it AND later when they think about what I said. I don't want them to think about me, I want them to think about the sentence. The meaning. The change they should consider. The friends they should keep. The dignity they should hold on to. Anything like that. I want it to sting and leave when they get what they need to get done, done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aries, I hope you start knowing what you need instead of just talking about with what you want, SOON. Everyone tells me to stop waiting up for you and that I'm going to get burned. I don't think thats going to happen but I don't want it to happen either. I'm going to have to face my fears when we're ready and maybe by then you'll have sucked it up and at least got it in your head. You need to realize what you're missing, its me. Not her or her or her or her or even him. Its me. Why do you think you don't hate anything about me.. ? Your logical mind is looking around whats right there. Instead of singing the Taylor Swift song, look into it and look for the girl that feels the way she did when she wrote it, ME. me me me me me me me, ME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just love astrology so much lately. I still look for colors but when I first meet someone I almost immediately ask "when is your birthday?" just so I can figure them out more than I normally do. I am an Aquarius and proud although my sign is the most annoying of the zodiac.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like Virgos. Sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My lifes been changing lately, my outlook too. A lot of things won't go "my way" until I graduate and grow up a little. Its funny to think I wanted to be 18 for so long, now I just want to be 13.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But like I said, this year is definately my year, changes and all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-6117407171733636281?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/6117407171733636281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/02/age-of-aquarius.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/6117407171733636281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/6117407171733636281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2011/02/age-of-aquarius.html' title='age of aquarius'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-2741851661569138156</id><published>2010-12-22T22:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-26T21:21:42.836-08:00</updated><title type='text'>you look right past</title><content type='html'>There are so many awkward situations that I can conjure up in my brain right now that could happen. Awkward situations are usuallly funny to me and I even make things awkward sometimes to laugh about it later, but this is not funny at all. This is painful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never conform for so many various reasons but the biggest one is this: it doesn't allow me to be with the people I want to be with. I would have been with you by now for maybe even a few years if I didn't let my dumb friends tell me you weren't cool. If I didn't swallow their words and let them sit in my stomach instead of letting them go to my brain so I could think of you in my own way, we would have been together. We would have been great with each other. I let the rumors get to me. I let doing "whats right" stop me from leaving him to get to you. I regret this so much. I will forever be different, whether you like it or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw a lot of rich bitches in the Novi mall today, boys and girls, and it made me feel sick about society for the hundreth time this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did get to people watch though, which was fun. I'm thrilled about this week and hanging out with friends and getting to fufill my weird sleeping habits without having to worry about stupid LATEC and school in general.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Night terrors are the scariest things for the people who experiance them. Recently, I've learned my dad had them in his late teens through his early twenties, and now I have them. Its so bad that I get out of bed screaming bloody murder and I've even tried to jump out of my window in my sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I figure this is yet another reason I don't sleep at night. Awesome. Goodnight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-2741851661569138156?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/2741851661569138156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/12/you-look-right-past.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/2741851661569138156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/2741851661569138156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/12/you-look-right-past.html' title='you look right past'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-1875438132159512815</id><published>2010-12-18T18:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-18T23:10:53.442-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I've got the breath of the last cigarette on my teeth.</title><content type='html'>That statement above is not true because I rarely ever smoke, just to clear that up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst feeling ever is always when you feel like you were a mistake, for any reason. I feel like that because of you, but the worst thing is I don't feel like you were a mistake at all. I will forever be the girl that screwed part of you up and I'm sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You weren't a mistake to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-1875438132159512815?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/1875438132159512815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/12/ive-got-breath-of-last-cigarette-on-my.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/1875438132159512815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/1875438132159512815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/12/ive-got-breath-of-last-cigarette-on-my.html' title='I&apos;ve got the breath of the last cigarette on my teeth.'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-1797440388168446015</id><published>2010-12-08T11:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T21:15:33.923-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll admit it.</title><content type='html'>A few nights ago I had a dream that I was at the edge of a building. I felt myself crying. Most people look down, anxiety ridden in movies you see. They're contemplating taking their lives into their own hands, but me, I was looking up. I looked up`at the sky. I remember trying to find consellations. I remember looking at the stars and then falling. I layed down in the air and looked up in the stars and didn't ever hit the ground. It made me think about life, I love dreams like that I suppose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was I doing around this time last night? I wish life had a replay button.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For once, I took advantage of what was right there in front of me. Loss of self control, yes. But am I dissapointed? Not in the least bit. Maybe a little bit with you because you'll never be serious and you don't show people who sweet you actually are. I don't know if we both wish it, but I honestly do, I wish I was yours I think I always have and for some reason I always play hard to get with you. You wanted to know how I felt? Thats it right there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm having a "I want to die moment" right now.&lt;br /&gt;I am sleep deprived and in pain.&lt;br /&gt;Fetal position with my eyes closed in the dark.&lt;br /&gt;No pun intended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, almost everythng I said was followed by, "no pun intended" or "thats kinky". Two totally awkward and funny things to say. Its reminds me of like eighth grade when saying "in bed" after everything was funny. Which it still is, well maybe not to you. I don't suffer from multiple personality disorder, just multiple age disorder. I have like flashbacks from different ages. Its cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't you hate laughing when your abs already hurt and you feel like you're going to crap your intestines out? A little too graphic, but for real.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-1797440388168446015?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/1797440388168446015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/12/ill-admit-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/1797440388168446015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/1797440388168446015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/12/ill-admit-it.html' title='I&apos;ll admit it.'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-8015280530198694402</id><published>2010-12-02T17:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-02T18:17:14.051-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I always have icy icy hands.</title><content type='html'>I haven't posted in awhile! But I am wide awake and in a great mood. I'm also sick of filling up notebook after notebook, I'm going to get carpal tunnel either way. This has been all a dream. Like I remember it but it seems like it didn't happen. Maybe my mind is making up shit because I can't sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heres my advertisment of the day, I'm  kidding, don't do this its my thing:&lt;br /&gt;You want to know something awesome to do in the hallways at school? Are you sick of people shoving you and shoulder bumping you? ME TOO! So I made up elbow terrorising, and you can even do it when you're carrying books! All you do is put your hand on your hip and stick your elbow out. When you walk down the hallways and people aren't paying attention you'll give them a nice love tap. And you know whats even better? When they A) look at you funny/give you a dirty look or B) do it back. Actually, nobodys done this back yet but now that you all know, I'm expecting a whole lot of bruising. I pat myself on the back for my passive aggressive ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love not making plans! Thats why when people ask me if I want to hang out I normally reply with I don't know, hoping maybe somebody will think like me one day. Some friends I have to make plans with because they really don't get it. But, usually I like drop hints and am like hey I'm at walmart. Or say I'm somewhere and one day when finally somebody gets that its more like me saying run into me there!" It'll be so funny! Even if I do look like crap, I love seeing my minions and people I love. I also love seeing people in like random places. Like, if I visit an antique shop and someone is there that I know, I always go and talk to them. Those people that like awkwardly say hi to you and then walk away and then awkwardly see you in the store over and over again are no fun! So, its better to just go up and talk to the badass. Whats the worse that can happen?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-8015280530198694402?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/8015280530198694402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-always-have-icy-icy-hands.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/8015280530198694402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/8015280530198694402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-always-have-icy-icy-hands.html' title='I always have icy icy hands.'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-3164016565618757976</id><published>2010-10-16T20:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-16T21:18:42.645-07:00</updated><title type='text'>champangne for my real friends, pain for my sham friends</title><content type='html'>The cutting my hair or shaving it idea hasn't gotten out of my head yet. So, since that has happened, I am now going to do one of those numbers to my head. Not sure which one yet, we will see. I'm nervous though. I don't usually get nervous about what people think about what I do but this time yeah I do. Nobody wants to get called dyke or get automatically labeled manly or lesbian when you're into guys and you like girly stuff. At the same time, I don't really care but I just don't feel like dealing with shit from assholes. I think thats what it is. I'm not scared of getting hurt. It would only hurt if someone I cared about said something thats supposed to be hurtful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I probably talk about music entirely too much but I'm listening to the mountain goats right now and hes talking about like what hes doing without his significant other, and it reminds me a lot of my situation for the past few months. So many new old experiances. You get so accustom to doing things with that person that doing things without them is excruchiating and painful sometimes. I didn't go to church for about a month and a half because of all that and when I did I basically sobbed privately in the preschool bathroom for three fourths of the service. But all the big hurdles are over for me. I'm glad I was strong enough to suck it up and stick it out. Its brought so many wonderful people and feelings and memories. I still wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. Not even close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wondering what aliens are thinking about right now when they're using their super cameras to look through windows. Or brain radios to listen to what minds are thinking. Maybe they're nocturnal. I'd rather look at the moon instead of the sun myself. Well, if I had a choice to look at the sun without going blind that is. I would also rather have clouds and rain rather than heat and sun. I'm not "goth" I swear. Just opposite. I wouldn't quite say unique. Because ironically, everyone is unique.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find myself wishing I didn't worry about zombie attacks all the time. During the day I worry about that. Then at night I worry about an "I Am Legend" freak jumping up on my roof, smashing through my window, and instantely killing me and my dogs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you don't wonder why I have insomnia.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-3164016565618757976?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/3164016565618757976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/10/champangne-for-my-real-friends-pain-for.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/3164016565618757976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/3164016565618757976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/10/champangne-for-my-real-friends-pain-for.html' title='champangne for my real friends, pain for my sham friends'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-5308164592337970770</id><published>2010-10-16T11:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-16T11:58:42.268-07:00</updated><title type='text'>google</title><content type='html'>I talk wayyyy too much and think too much too. I've just noticed they past few days. I'm not overpowering, but maybe I need to let others come up with cool shit to say rather than just me. "Just sayin" I'm seriously considering chopping a decent amount of hair off and shaving some too. Some might think thats gross, but I'm sick of looking normal and my abnormal hair color is just not enough. I feel boring. I think more people should be impulsive in this way, it would make the world more interesting to look at, don't you think? I'm listening to old fall out boy and its putting me in a great mood. Like a I want to get shit done mood. Or like makeout with someone? It seems freakish to me and I'm the one that actually feels that way. My brain is falling out of my ears little by little I sweearrrr. Hell on ice!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its really nice to hang out with Jessyka again. Toodles&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-5308164592337970770?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/5308164592337970770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/10/google.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/5308164592337970770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/5308164592337970770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/10/google.html' title='google'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-7628650761656209385</id><published>2010-10-11T17:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T17:52:15.756-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I never want to leave when I do, I never want to leave when I do. Everytime I leave you cry stay by my side.</title><content type='html'>I am listening to such beautiful music lately. Check out the song below, its by Good Old War and its exceptional. Moving on though, I've been SO HAPPY lately. I think its because I've started to face the facts. Those being that I am likeable, nobody really hates me, and because of this I am talking to a lot more people. Which is just awesome. I love everybody in my life right now. I might even have a legit liking for somebody, but I don't trust myself with that quite yet so we'll see. People-wise, its going good. School-wise, I hate it and its tiring but I'm passing and on my way to graduate. Which is awesome. Then I can start my real life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few random things happened to me today. Firstly, I had Ronald Mcdonald hair unintentionally today. I thought it was the worst thing in the world and that I should put a  bag over my head, but it turned out better than I thought. I kind of hope it stays beastly. But if I calms down I won't be too upset either. Then I unintentionally demolished a rat brain, which I never thought I'd do unless I turned zombie, but even then it would be human brains. I also found myself in a pickle for my journal entries, so I somehow came up with the topic of human hygenine. Letting my teacher know that Marie Antonettes husband only took a bath twice in his life and I also went on to wonder who invented gum if they didn't even care enough about their hygenine, who  needs fresh breath to get freaky with the royals!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Oh baby you should know I trust you.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And baby you should know I miss you.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But everytime you leave i cry,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Stay by my side.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Just because I've gone away,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Doesn't mean I'll be gone forever.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Theres a point in our love,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;From across the world.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I never want to leave when I do (don't walk away)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I never want to leave when I do (stay with me)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Everytime I leave you cry&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Stay by my side.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-7628650761656209385?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/7628650761656209385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-never-want-to-leave-when-i-do-i-never.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/7628650761656209385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/7628650761656209385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-never-want-to-leave-when-i-do-i-never.html' title='I never want to leave when I do, I never want to leave when I do. Everytime I leave you cry stay by my side.'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-2618108828687959437</id><published>2010-09-24T12:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T17:48:54.527-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i hope i cut myself shaving tommorow, i hope it bleeds all day. our friends say that its darkest before the sun rises.</title><content type='html'>Since I can't talk about family problems on here because SOMEONE will read it and tell my parents all I have to say is one inappropriate thing and I'm done,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU ARE ALL f***HEADS  I DON'T GIVE A DAMN WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT MY DEGUS.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-2618108828687959437?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/2618108828687959437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-hope-i-cut-myself-shaving-tommorow-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/2618108828687959437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/2618108828687959437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-hope-i-cut-myself-shaving-tommorow-i.html' title='i hope i cut myself shaving tommorow, i hope it bleeds all day. our friends say that its darkest before the sun rises.'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-2978817609311603077</id><published>2010-09-23T13:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-23T14:50:01.918-07:00</updated><title type='text'>you are coming down with me, hand in unlovable hand.</title><content type='html'>Gosh! I just can't get enough of Mumford and Sons as of now! I've been listening to it for days now. I also am loving The Mountain Goats. MG is an old band that I forgot about though and I just picked back up again. But music is filling me up full lately. My facebook is not working either, and its just my facebook. Like, its not my internet obviously because I'm on here and Grooveshark, so thats weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Today was decent. I realized how attracted I actually was to a certain someone, hah. Do you ever have that happen to you? Like all of the sudden you're talking to somebody or walking with them and then it just suddenly hits you. My thought when this happened was &lt;em&gt;"Holy shit, now thats what I was waiting for."&lt;/em&gt; When this happens with somebody new, it makes me feel so alive. Then reality kicks me in the ass and is like &lt;em&gt;"Hey there, he has a girfriend. Don't want to ruin that, huh?" &lt;/em&gt;I'm never and not ever going to be mean enought to take someone away from someone else unless its like extreme circumstances. I really don't know what the situation would have to be to do that though.&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;HAH, so then you start feeling like a fool all over again, except this time I kind of didn't. Because I felt like something was actually going to happen someday. With time. That reality is just telling me I'm not ready for that yet. At least I think thats what it is. I have hope, I always do no matter how bad it might hurt me later. So that feeling made me kindof start believing in love again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm eating McDonalds right now. I like it but I feel gross. I wonder if theres a disorder where you think your teeth are rotting out of your head constantely. Or you think you're going to get a cavity with like everything you eat. If there is a phobia like that, I definately have it. Everytime I drink pop or like go out to eat and eat something bad, my teeth feel like they're rotting. Like, it feels like they're slowly decaying and theres nothing I can do about it. And I think I brush my teeth a little too much when I'm at home. And when I'm somewhere else, I sneak in a few brushes when I'm "going to the bathroom". This is all pretty pathetic, but its the truth. After you've had braces for days on end, its hard not to think like that. If this isn't the case, I must be freaking insane.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-2978817609311603077?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/2978817609311603077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/09/you-are-coming-down-with-me-hand-in.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/2978817609311603077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/2978817609311603077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/09/you-are-coming-down-with-me-hand-in.html' title='you are coming down with me, hand in unlovable hand.'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-1592069331051004402</id><published>2010-09-21T14:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-21T14:40:35.358-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Freaky Eaters</title><content type='html'>Can you imagine drinking like 30 cans of cola a day? Or imagine eating raw meat by the chunk? I almost can feel my teeth rotting away from sugar. I can see me going to the dentist and having them remove my decayed teeth. I can see me going to the doctor for medicene to get rid of the tapeworm I've acquired from eating like a wolf. No cola or meat for me anymore. I'd be a fish, I'd eat veggies and drink water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its so weird how different you look at others when you hear how about how they've treated someone. When a person tells you somebody treated them bad or put them in a bad place. When somebody tells you albout how a person made you laugh, cry, hurt, love, scream, sing. You think of them in a way you never had before. When someone asks me if you were good at something and I tell them yes, they laugh. They say they'll never look at you the same. My feelings will get the best of me someday. My wall is getting weaker every sleepless night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Night is when the enemy, the emotions, sneak attacks and goes for my heart first. Then my heart screams, my brain hears it up through my esophogus and my head hurts for my heart. The warriors try to escape by leaving my body through the tears. The tears get to my sleeping dogs and makes them feel as if they need to treat me. The dogs try to protect me but my heart keeps screaming, my head keeps hurting, and the warriors eventually come no more. When will the end of the war come? When will love and piece prevail? You tell me and you'll  be my hero forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-1592069331051004402?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/1592069331051004402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/09/freaky-eaters.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/1592069331051004402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/1592069331051004402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/09/freaky-eaters.html' title='Freaky Eaters'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-8284866957235760082</id><published>2010-09-21T14:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-21T14:27:49.869-07:00</updated><title type='text'>plagues.</title><content type='html'>Plagues are not just sickeness in epidemic form. Plagues are memories that hurt you over and over again. Dremers are constantely sick with "plague." I am plagued. I want you out of my dreams, my hopes, my prayers, and aspirations. I want you out of my future since I'm not in any of your dreams anymore. When will all of this plague leave? When will I be well again?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-8284866957235760082?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/8284866957235760082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/09/plagues.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/8284866957235760082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/8284866957235760082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/09/plagues.html' title='plagues.'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-7461019478494574822</id><published>2010-09-21T14:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-21T14:25:20.108-07:00</updated><title type='text'>stuff from school.</title><content type='html'>Did I ever think about my future without you? No. I firmly believed you would always be with me. Boy was I wrong. You're not there when I'm gone anymore. You're not there to make me feel beautiful, talk to me, make me feel smart, or make me feel worth something more than I ever dreamed. So whats next? Are you going to stop acknowledging my existance?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of you I don't know whether love even exists. Love is a lie. Love means you don't leave. ve means you work out whatever is wrong. Love is when you "change" together. I loved. You didn't. I asked you so many times if you meant it. You lied. You led me to believe your lie. You're the only one that has ever done that to me. I will never let this happen again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-7461019478494574822?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/7461019478494574822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/09/stuff-from-school.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/7461019478494574822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/7461019478494574822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/09/stuff-from-school.html' title='stuff from school.'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3445081100473004818.post-4057484292678573777</id><published>2010-09-19T15:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-19T15:34:06.998-07:00</updated><title type='text'>you are my sunshine, my only sunshine.</title><content type='html'>You make me happy when skies are gray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To bad I have nobody to sing that song to anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I have heard the unfortunate news that there is always going to be that one person you just want to strangle, even when you graduate highschool, from my mom today. Maybe I just thought being an adult and going to my career was going to be like sunshine daisies. But reality kicked my ass again and told me different. That seems to be happening to me more and more lately. Maybe that just starts happening when and after your eighteenth birthday is coming up. I need to get a real job. I really can't wait until I can work nights. Then my sleeping problems would be solved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't you wish everyday was like going to Cedar Point? Stimulating. Observant. Fun. Too bad school ruins that. Its not stimulating because of the white walls. The same shit fed to you, a different day of the week. Not too much room to be observant because you see almost the same people everyday except for like the freshman. But after a week you get annoyed and bored of them. Also, at CP, you see a whole bunch of AWESOME tattoos and outfits. You see attractive people from different states. You wonder what they're thinking. Or what they've checked out so far. What they've been on. Where they got that funky scar under their eye. You know, that kind of cool stuff. Everyday should be like CP. But its not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm done for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3445081100473004818-4057484292678573777?l=verylunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/feeds/4057484292678573777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/09/you-are-my-sunshine-my-only-sunshine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/4057484292678573777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3445081100473004818/posts/default/4057484292678573777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://verylunch.blogspot.com/2010/09/you-are-my-sunshine-my-only-sunshine.html' title='you are my sunshine, my only sunshine.'/><author><name>jocelyn lockwood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03730980086377982336</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
