<?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-5072583725103676557</id><updated>2011-10-24T09:37:45.392-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Amy's anti-blog</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15190269112716842172</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__AFlgY1CYZY/S52D0Z_e_1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/H_GDvuQWkH0/S220/Photo_012610_001.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5072583725103676557.post-6197855485645066583</id><published>2011-10-24T09:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-24T09:37:45.429-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Anxiety is a strange thing...it but can be present when things are fine. Nothing pressing is wrong with me. Just feel I might try bounce off the wall :)I guess better than depression.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also...my goal for the next few months is to u just be ther person I want to be and nott let others opinions affect me. Don't get me wrong..I do what I want and then worry about the judgments and nasty comments people make on things that don't really concern them...seems a silly way to live&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5072583725103676557-6197855485645066583?l=antibog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/feeds/6197855485645066583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5072583725103676557&amp;postID=6197855485645066583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/6197855485645066583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/6197855485645066583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/2011/10/anxiety-is-strange-thing.html' title=''/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15190269112716842172</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__AFlgY1CYZY/S52D0Z_e_1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/H_GDvuQWkH0/S220/Photo_012610_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5072583725103676557.post-2481771741300120165</id><published>2011-10-08T01:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-08T02:02:16.229-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Amsterdam</title><content type='html'>I am sitting in the airport in Amsterdam waiting to go to Barcelona...and its much more conducive to relaxation here. Comfy chairs..even bean bag chairs. I rate this airport a 9! Maybe is all the drugs here? Everyone is more relaxed :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5072583725103676557-2481771741300120165?l=antibog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/feeds/2481771741300120165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5072583725103676557&amp;postID=2481771741300120165' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/2481771741300120165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/2481771741300120165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/2011/10/amsterdam.html' title='Amsterdam'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15190269112716842172</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__AFlgY1CYZY/S52D0Z_e_1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/H_GDvuQWkH0/S220/Photo_012610_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5072583725103676557.post-6297134732401517238</id><published>2011-10-02T18:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-02T18:41:35.066-07:00</updated><title type='text'>AGE</title><content type='html'>How important is age? Is it more important in romantic relationships than in friendships?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met this amazing guy but is he far too young for me? Some people say I am not being realistic while others say who cares about age and if I was a man with a younger woman..people would scarcely care. And while I certainly and rationally agree..it still is a thought present in the back of my head..I still care on some level what people would think..mostly people at work. Will it affect my professional reputation? Should I care?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5072583725103676557-6297134732401517238?l=antibog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/feeds/6297134732401517238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5072583725103676557&amp;postID=6297134732401517238' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/6297134732401517238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/6297134732401517238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/2011/10/age.html' title='AGE'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15190269112716842172</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__AFlgY1CYZY/S52D0Z_e_1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/H_GDvuQWkH0/S220/Photo_012610_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5072583725103676557.post-1645302519783527974</id><published>2011-09-28T19:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T19:34:04.853-07:00</updated><title type='text'>For Who Am I</title><content type='html'>Am I who I think I am? Will I ever be satisfied? I know that life isn't perfect and I know mine is pretty good by most standards. I wouldn't say I'm unhappy really..although feel like I'm missing something and its not family or friends or a good job..I even have a meaningful and good job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have thought for a long time that its a relationship I'm missing..a lasting one..but sometimes I just don't know. Maybe I like the idea....of never having to go to things alone or do everything alone..but then I think..gosh I miss being alone. So perhaps I am the person who will never be satisfied with anything? I refuse to accept that... My therapist told me I should do things I enjoy, explore new things, run a race, travel..I have done that..not that there aren't things I want to do still but I have explored more hobbies and done my own thing more than most. I have educated myself, taken yoga and Spanish and dancing. I have run races including a marathon, half marathon and a trail race that nearly killed me :). I have tried to teach myself to play poker and darts..I have and will try anything..that doesn't involve heights or too much danger. I volunteer and I find that rewarding most of th time. I sew and do crafty crap..I rollerblade, hike, travel...dared myself to go skiing last year..although since college it makes me nervous. I have planned outings left and right, new and old. I am enjoying it all....I mostly have it all...so?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not greedy..I don't need excitement constantly and I'm too old for drama..I have had great opportunities and I have great friends. Writing...is one of the few things I wish I made more time for..so here we are. Reading was the other..and I'm back to that..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe..I am one of those people..like my aunt..who won't ultimately want to be with someone..I hate that thought..but why is it such a pain in the ass to be with anyone....Maybe my choices are the issue? My mom says I should have been a Vet (despite my lack of affection for animals) because I find people with issues and try to fix them. Maybe..but what she doesn't understand is I'm so tired of that. Everyone has issues..yes..but I don't want to be anyone's savior...not anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think what is often not acknowledged...I loved him and didn't know for a long time he needed saving...and I didn't know until recently..just how much he needed saving. I think I have moved beyond that and allowing it to cripple me..but I wonder...now that I've worked through the self doubt, sabotage and now..my feelings for "him", am I just broken? Did he break me after helping me fix me? Do I feel nothing now? I mean I feel stuff but not in that I want a relationship and want to deal with your bag of crap way..more like I want to be bothered only a little, and don't want to hear about your issues too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this who I am..now that I'm less of a work in progress? Or now that I'm mostly patched and reformed..did I let him break the parts that weren't broken? The hope, the faith, the light? Is this who I am?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5072583725103676557-1645302519783527974?l=antibog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/feeds/1645302519783527974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5072583725103676557&amp;postID=1645302519783527974' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/1645302519783527974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/1645302519783527974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/2011/09/for-who-am-i.html' title='For Who Am I'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15190269112716842172</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__AFlgY1CYZY/S52D0Z_e_1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/H_GDvuQWkH0/S220/Photo_012610_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5072583725103676557.post-5327102949192628868</id><published>2011-09-16T21:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-16T21:42:00.928-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i miss blogging..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5072583725103676557-5327102949192628868?l=antibog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/feeds/5327102949192628868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5072583725103676557&amp;postID=5327102949192628868' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/5327102949192628868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/5327102949192628868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-miss-blogging.html' title=''/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15190269112716842172</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__AFlgY1CYZY/S52D0Z_e_1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/H_GDvuQWkH0/S220/Photo_012610_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5072583725103676557.post-1085289121045272441</id><published>2010-03-09T17:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T17:51:30.008-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>UGH :)&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone else notice to what degree we are always evolving? As I age, I am becoming someone new. Its both liberating and frightening. Don't get me wrong..I am still the same person but my priorities are changing. I don't measure success by others view of whom I should strive to be. I am responsible for my happiness and those claiming to know me..they don't always know what is best for me. Its an amazing feeling. I don't know for sure what I am going to do but I know for sure what I am not going to do. I am not going to accept positions because of guilt or someone's pre-determined career path for me. I am Amy..hear me roar :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5072583725103676557-1085289121045272441?l=antibog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/feeds/1085289121045272441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5072583725103676557&amp;postID=1085289121045272441' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/1085289121045272441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/1085289121045272441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/2010/03/ugh-does-anyone-else-notice-to-what.html' title=''/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15190269112716842172</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__AFlgY1CYZY/S52D0Z_e_1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/H_GDvuQWkH0/S220/Photo_012610_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5072583725103676557.post-5938765396138734673</id><published>2010-03-06T20:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-06T20:49:24.061-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reunion</title><content type='html'>I feel like I am having one..with my two blog friends and with myself. Where to begin? It may take me a few days to take it all in.....................&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5072583725103676557-5938765396138734673?l=antibog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/feeds/5938765396138734673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5072583725103676557&amp;postID=5938765396138734673' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/5938765396138734673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/5938765396138734673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/2010/03/reunion.html' title='Reunion'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15190269112716842172</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__AFlgY1CYZY/S52D0Z_e_1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/H_GDvuQWkH0/S220/Photo_012610_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5072583725103676557.post-8415465695066400261</id><published>2008-04-12T19:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-12T19:53:30.366-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Memoir Coerced by Margarita</title><content type='html'>Bitch a little, love a lot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5072583725103676557-8415465695066400261?l=antibog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/feeds/8415465695066400261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5072583725103676557&amp;postID=8415465695066400261' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/8415465695066400261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/8415465695066400261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/2008/04/memoir-coerced-by-margarita.html' title='Memoir Coerced by Margarita'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15190269112716842172</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__AFlgY1CYZY/S52D0Z_e_1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/H_GDvuQWkH0/S220/Photo_012610_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5072583725103676557.post-6788357464506075446</id><published>2008-01-01T08:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-01T09:02:08.805-08:00</updated><title type='text'>2008</title><content type='html'>I am barely into 2008 and I have already learned a very valuable lesson. At the top of my blog where it says "Next Post", I do not want to ever click on this again. A whole page of half naked women pop up and sex noises. I now have to start the new year feeling defiled. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy New Year All!! The beginning of the year always gives me this feeling that anything is possible. Unfortunately, it is a feeling that is almost as fleeting as New Year's Day. I have lots of resolutions for the coming year. The first one was to stay home on New Year's Eve and enjoy myself-no perverts this isn't meant to be dirty! I made dinner which is like some kind of Guinness Book accomplishment and then I just hung out. I watched a movie and spent a great deal of time dancing around my living room. Strangely, I had a great time. It has been months since I just hung out at home with no goals! Okay, I can't lie, I got a little antsy and cleaned my linen closet in the middle of the evening. I have to be busy, I can't help it. And before you all feel sorry for me like everyone else that asked me to join their plans for New Year's, I really needed some alone time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I digressed from resolutions. Oh yes, I have lots of resolutions.  I am going to be more positive and productive. This may nearly kill me but I am going to try. I am going to learn restraint which may also kill me. Wow, 2008 is going to be trying. Most of all, I am going to stop loving someone who either doesn't care or is too stubborn to make a change. I am going to run more and try to have more fun!! Life is short, my friends are plentiful (fortuntately) and I don't really have it so bad. Thanks to M for her posts that reminded all of us that we can be total whiners and there are people out there to really admire. I am again thinking of TNT. There may have to be an event this year. I would also like more blog readers since I only have one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The babble will now cease. Happy New Year to my ONE reader!!! One is better than none-see positivity is already overtaking me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5072583725103676557-6788357464506075446?l=antibog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/feeds/6788357464506075446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5072583725103676557&amp;postID=6788357464506075446' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/6788357464506075446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/6788357464506075446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/2008/01/2008.html' title='2008'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15190269112716842172</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__AFlgY1CYZY/S52D0Z_e_1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/H_GDvuQWkH0/S220/Photo_012610_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5072583725103676557.post-6626096910869442361</id><published>2007-12-07T16:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-07T17:19:08.064-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Guam via Japan</title><content type='html'>I picked a doozy for my first out of the country trip. I suppose the Bahamas and Canada do not count right?? Guam by the way is beautiful. It is tropical, in fact. Who would have thought?? Certainly not me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to Guam to visit my bff and college roommate and her hubby. It was definitely a twofer. I got lots of pool time, sightseeing, and quality time with the bff. She is 8 months preggers and the trip was even complete with a labor scare where we spent all evening at the Naval Hospital. The bff's hubby is a doctor in the Navy so consequently, I got a tour of the hospital while we were there. I think Guam is a hidden secret. If you can get past the "massage parlors" for the Japanese tourists and the 24 hour travel, it is certainly worth the trip. That being said, it is very unusual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bff gave me the island tour complete with the history of Guam and WWII. It was all very interesting. We stopped to eat at this semi-outdoor restaurant on the ocean and their specialty was Greek food. That struck me as odd for a number of reasons but I consumed the best Greek salad that I have ever had. While I enjoyed my visit, I probably would never make it there as a resident. Guam is devoid of good shopping. The local handmade goods are wonderful but the mall is worth a visit, just for the laugh. Surprisingly, they did have some stores that surprised me such as Macy's but overall, the shopping is horrific. Lest I forget, I will now mention that Guam has the largest Kmart in the world. People act as though it is the holyland. The place is packed with Japanese tourists. Yes, of course I went there and I took pictures. Sorry to disappoint but it looks like any other Kmart anywhere!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in Narita Airport in Tokyo at the moment. Having a long layover is nice when you don't know where you are going but now I know where I am going and still 5 hours to wait! Ugh. Here are some interesting observations.... The cashier at McDonalds understood English and understood "no meat" so my egg mcmuffin was devoid of meat. I was elated with this accomplishment. I was hungry due to the fact that breakfast on the plane was sushi and something that looked like milk in a juice box. I passed on that. I can't believe I was soo excited to see a McDonalds. I don't even like the place. Also, I am totally in the minority here which I think is a good experience for anyone, especially a white American. I can count on about two fingers the number of times I have been the minority anywhere. And uh, I hate to say it but the Japanese are cleaner than we are. Their bathrooms are very clean, their planes are very clean, and many of them are walking around with surgical masks to avoid the beastly germs that one picks up in airports. The only low point is that most of the snacks are not those sold in the U.S. and I have no idea what they are and all the magazines are in Japanese. Oh, and the terminal I was in on the way out had a salon so I thought I could get my nails done in this looong layover but this terminal is devoid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just when I thought I was done describing how interesting the Narita Airport is, I forgot to tell everyone that Terminal 1 is full of high end stores-Gucci, Coach etc. I personally have never been to an airport that resembled a shopping mall. This is all very informative and I encourage anyone that has not been to this side of the world, to do so. I think I would like to come back but the flight is a killer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am off to wait some more and try out the toilets that are just a hole in the floor!! Yeah right. Thank heavens they have the regular ones. The whole bidet think cracks me up too. Oh!! One more thing. Japan looks a little like Michigan. It is cold here and the trees are very similar. I am certain it doesn't all look like MI but when we were landing, this struck me as odd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a tan if anyone is interested. The interesting part is that I am pretty tan and had 45 sunblock on the whole time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5072583725103676557-6626096910869442361?l=antibog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/feeds/6626096910869442361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5072583725103676557&amp;postID=6626096910869442361' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/6626096910869442361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/6626096910869442361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/2007/12/guam-via-japan.html' title='Guam via Japan'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15190269112716842172</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__AFlgY1CYZY/S52D0Z_e_1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/H_GDvuQWkH0/S220/Photo_012610_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5072583725103676557.post-7982830124248732379</id><published>2007-09-26T17:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T18:11:20.939-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Changes</title><content type='html'>I am writing yet another post for Liz, hoping to inspire her to some sort of writing.............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been thinking a lot lately and not talking much. I have made myself a list of people I need to call back. My phone messages have included people who are worried, think I am mad, and a few annoyed messages from my sister in law who probably is certain I am avoiding her. I am fine, just contemplative. No one is used to me doing anything but talking incessantly. I just get tired of talking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess most of my thinking is about a man (sometimes a big boy) who I think is the only person I have ever loved for any of the right reasons. I have loved him for about five years, although I didn't always know it. There was initially lots of drama and some periods of silence. Hell, who am I kidding, I gave him the silent treatment frequently for awhile. I knew he would always be there though and never stay mad. He isn't mad now but I am or I was. I think I am over it. I forced myself to move on and he was not thrilled. However, more months passed than ever before and he has moved on or mostly moved on. He seems to miss our friendship and to think that it could still be. I cannot be his friend because I love him too much to put myself through that. It has never worked, the just friends thing, for us. Whenever I see him (far too often because of our jobs) he has to tell me all this stuff that he has clearly been saving up to tell me. It always breaks my heart a little because he seems to miss me so much but he wasn't willing to make the changes I needed him to make. I am finally less bitter and I think I am over the drama and his inability to make me happy. What I struggle with is the loss of a best friend. He knows everything about me. I know that the love and the best friend cannot be separated in this instance but it doesn't make it easier. I am proud of myself though for not trying to be his friend and twisting myself in ways I cannot bend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend and coworker lost her husband last week. I cannot imagine what she must be going through. She is the nicest person alive. My other coworker teases her about possessing the "niceness gene" all the time. She is young and this must be awful, not that it isn't awful when you are old. He came to the funeral (above mentioned) and I got some really strange looks because he sat with me (he didn't really know anyone else there) and my other coworkers. People asked if I was upset about it. I knew he was coming and I was actually proud of him. I love it when he presents the person he really is. We all work in the same community and while he mainly knows my friend because of me, he was in a way, representing his office by being there. I have to admit that I felt a small sense of loss while sitting there with him at a funeral. I kept thinking about how I felt and how my friend's loss was so much greater. I cannot imagine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The past few weeks and even months, have been like this. Uncertain, sad, and I guess unknown.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5072583725103676557-7982830124248732379?l=antibog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/feeds/7982830124248732379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5072583725103676557&amp;postID=7982830124248732379' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/7982830124248732379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/7982830124248732379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/2007/09/changes.html' title='Changes'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15190269112716842172</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__AFlgY1CYZY/S52D0Z_e_1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/H_GDvuQWkH0/S220/Photo_012610_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5072583725103676557.post-7257370003811767021</id><published>2007-08-30T18:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-30T18:33:29.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blog Overkill</title><content type='html'>That makes two in two days in the same month and week.............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just had to share this with someone or everyone. I had a doctor's appt today at the ENT for my sinus issues that don't seem to be going away. The perky resident decided that maybe it wasn't a sinus issue (she was right, God love her).  She tells me she will consult with the doctor (the one who has actually passed all the tests) but just in case, she wanted to numb my nose so he could have a look. This should have been my first clue. Then, she shoots some decongestant up my nose followed by some novicane (sp-give me a break, how often do I get to spell this word). The nurse walks in with this thing that looks like she is going to irrigate something. Very long tube attached to a looking device. I mention that looks like fun and she seems surprised that I did not have this done before. She then says, "oh, this is loads of fun". I can appreciate sarcasm, of course, but this is not looking good. My hot doctor walks in and proceeds to stuff this tube in my nose and half down my throat to have a look see. It was burning and painful and had to be done in both nostrils. A gaggle of residents fill the room (slight exaggeration) to also have a look see while I am advising that this is really "awful awful". Exact words I said. No aplogies. No concerns for me. Just a whole bunch of people learning from whatever was going on down there. I am totally fine physically but psychologically I have been marred. I was used for science and I am not even dead. I feel violated. And by the way, my nose hurts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5072583725103676557-7257370003811767021?l=antibog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/feeds/7257370003811767021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5072583725103676557&amp;postID=7257370003811767021' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/7257370003811767021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/7257370003811767021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/2007/08/blog-overkill.html' title='Blog Overkill'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15190269112716842172</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__AFlgY1CYZY/S52D0Z_e_1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/H_GDvuQWkH0/S220/Photo_012610_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5072583725103676557.post-634042697089795870</id><published>2007-08-29T18:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-29T18:43:46.509-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A long time coming........</title><content type='html'>I promised (well fingers crossed behind my back) Liz that I would post. Soo, in honor of Lizzy, I will say that I had a great time in my hood with she and Margarita. The race was fun as was the company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, either I am becoming a genius (doubtful) or I am just encountering dumb people lately. I had a man call me six times yesterday about his GM benefits and why they had been cancelled. For those of you that don't know, I don't work for GM or an insurance company. The annoying part is that after I told him politely, he kept calling back, EVEN after he kept getting my voicemail which clearly says where I work. As if that isn't bad enough, we have a secretary who asks stupid questions all day long. It may sound as though I am being harsh, but I am not. She is way past the point where she doesn't understand the basics. Some of the confusion is that I don't think she understands common words. For instance, she asked me Monday if a sticky note on a file that said "Adjourned until 8/27/07" meant that this file would be in court on 8/27/07. I work in the legal system and if you can't figure that out, you are doomed on the complicated stuff. After explaining it ten times, I came to the conclusion that she didn't know what "adjourned" meant. This has been going on for about seven months. Believe it or not, I feign patience. Enough of my nastiness. I also called someone back yesterday and had an entire converstation until he told me who he was and I realized I didn't know him. I guess maybe I have my moments too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really have nothing else to say except that I am off work for five glorious days!! Liz made me do this anyway. This is forced blogging. I just don't feel like it is creative when there is a gun to my head (figuratively speaking, of course).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5072583725103676557-634042697089795870?l=antibog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/feeds/634042697089795870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5072583725103676557&amp;postID=634042697089795870' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/634042697089795870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/634042697089795870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/2007/08/long-time-coming.html' title='A long time coming........'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15190269112716842172</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__AFlgY1CYZY/S52D0Z_e_1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/H_GDvuQWkH0/S220/Photo_012610_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5072583725103676557.post-124528480409321050</id><published>2007-05-22T18:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-22T19:30:15.081-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Big Apple</title><content type='html'>I spent this past weekend in New York City. This was my first trip to New York. I managed to squish a lot into two days. For some reason, when I am on vacation, I love to exercise. Perhaps it is the fact that I don't have to be anywhere or do anything. Everyone thinks I am insane. The concierge truly thought I had lost my mind when I told him I wanted to walk to the Met which was 30 some blocks away. Did I mention it was drizzling. Anyway, it was a great walk and the Met was fab. I had this feeling of peace the whole time I was there. There were a ton of people there but it was so peaceful. I almost wondered if they were piping in some kind of happy gas. Perhaps, I just needed the break. There was this fabulous little room that had been in the home of some European royalty. It was breathtakingly peaceful in there. I think it was called a studiolo, if I am not mistaken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other thing that stuck with me was the cab drivers. I think when you get a cab, you should be matched up based on the language you speak. I am pretty open minded  where diversity is concerned. However, we do need to be able to communicate. If I can't understand you and vice versa, how am I supposed to get where I need to go. Furthermore, I think it is rude to scream into your cell phone the whole time you have a fare. This happened to be in arabic but it would have been rude in any language. The only cab driver that did not do this, played extremely loud music that I could  not recognize. Customer service is lacking in the cab business. No surprise there I guess. He was probably just talking about how hot we were!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5072583725103676557-124528480409321050?l=antibog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/feeds/124528480409321050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5072583725103676557&amp;postID=124528480409321050' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/124528480409321050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/124528480409321050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/2007/05/big-apple.html' title='Big Apple'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15190269112716842172</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__AFlgY1CYZY/S52D0Z_e_1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/H_GDvuQWkH0/S220/Photo_012610_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5072583725103676557.post-7267357260944083228</id><published>2007-04-08T05:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-08T05:43:52.159-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It is hard to find the time and subject matter to post. This is funny to me because I certainly can find the subject matter to babble about on other blogs. Anyway, here is a story of my life as a zookeeper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week ago this Thursday, I went to the doctor. My friend's wife is my doctor and a total sweetie. This combined with the fact that she has broken her knee and can't lift it, make her totally vulnerable. She always hugs me when she sees me. Then, there is the mention of a favor that her hubby (the coward) wants her to ask me and she totally feels bad b/c it is the last minute etc. They are apparently going to Hilton Head for Spring Break and the hubby forgot to arrange care for the new puppy and ancient dog. It is too late to get a kennel and hubby said I would probably be happy to do it. You know, I have no life b/c I am single. Forget the two jobs etc. I could not tell her no, something I have been working on since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leading up to this catastrophe, my friend continued to harass me about how I needed to be there with the pets and not working all the time or at the gym. He even told me I could just workout on their treadmill. I have been to the house before to watch his daughters so I was aware that they are not the anal retentive housekeeper that I am. What however, they failed to mention is that the dogs poop on the floor, sometimes several times a day. There also doesn't appear to be anything to clean it up with. I hate cats and am allergic. There are two.... and a rabbit... and a coop full of chickens that need to be fed and eggs picked up. Did I mention, I am not an animal person? Also, the eggs need to be washed so you get all the poo off before they can go in the fridge. I have given up eating eggs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am exhausted and repulsed. The good news is I am too grossed out to eat so this gig is great for my diet. The house smells like a dog/rabbit/cat and I have almost used a bottle of febreze. I keep spraying my caramel room freshener in my room but I set of the smoke detector last night with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the thing, my friend knows me and I have no doubt that he is sitting in the sun, laughing his twisted head off about me, city girl and slave to shopping, cleaning up animal poo. There better be a big cash payoff. This is hard work and my schedule is rearranged. I need to work out but the treadmill is in the basement which smells of animal feces. Meanwhile, my apt got cleaned in the middle of all this and I yearn for it. Eight days of this nightmare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I went to the local bar to eat, totally oblivious to the fact that I was there alone, just happy to have food, beer, music, and strangers to talk to. I would love to write more but I must feed the chickens and eradicate poo from the eggs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5072583725103676557-7267357260944083228?l=antibog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/feeds/7267357260944083228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5072583725103676557&amp;postID=7267357260944083228' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/7267357260944083228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/7267357260944083228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/2007/04/it-is-hard-to-find-time-and-subject.html' title=''/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15190269112716842172</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__AFlgY1CYZY/S52D0Z_e_1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/H_GDvuQWkH0/S220/Photo_012610_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5072583725103676557.post-8717753346582081501</id><published>2007-03-19T18:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-19T18:17:51.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The blogger cult.</title><content type='html'>Soo, I have joined the blogger cult. I said I would never do it. I despise chat rooms, my space, and internet dating.  But, here I am because of a friend I met in San Fran while doing the marathon. If only I could take back that weekend, I would still hate communicating with strangers online. There will be no personal info on here or my full name as I truly do not like knowing that anyone can find me. My job is far too vulnerable for that. With that being said, this is enough for my first entry. This is soo tiring. I don't know how you all do it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5072583725103676557-8717753346582081501?l=antibog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/feeds/8717753346582081501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5072583725103676557&amp;postID=8717753346582081501' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/8717753346582081501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5072583725103676557/posts/default/8717753346582081501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://antibog.blogspot.com/2007/03/blogger-cult.html' title='The blogger cult.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15190269112716842172</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__AFlgY1CYZY/S52D0Z_e_1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/H_GDvuQWkH0/S220/Photo_012610_001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry></feed>
