<?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-1499169261862563256</id><updated>2012-02-16T07:24:11.464-08:00</updated><category term='Work'/><title type='text'>Another Day in Paradise</title><subtitle type='html'>Just the simple rambling of a 30 something single guy.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>mikel_antilles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16120030527313232108</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>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1499169261862563256.post-7106431726718311184</id><published>2008-10-22T08:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T08:21:38.605-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So, now what...</title><content type='html'>I decided that I needed to write again today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m sitting on the 14th floor and as I look out the window I can see it is another beautiful day. It’s days like this that I just get really tired of the life that I’m living. Living? That is a stretch. It’s more of just an existence. I get up, go to work, go home and prepare to repeat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m not doing anything with this. I feel like I’m failing either myself, or God. I mean, here I sit on this gorgeous day that was given to me and everyone and all I can do is sit at a desk and do paperwork. Is this really what God had in mind when we were given the desire for beauty, excitement and love. Was it a cruel trick or test? This day was laid out in front of me as a bit of temptation?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing is, I’m an accountant. Just saying that bores me sometimes. I work for a pretty good company. They treat me well, my boss is a good guy, my boss’s boss is a good guy. I’m pretty sheltered from any fall out. I work on special projects most of the time so I don’t really have all that much "routine" work. The job is good, but it does not take away from the fact that I’m sitting in the office on a beautiful day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing is, It’s not even that. It’s everything else. I’ve been stuck in the same routine with J for some time now. We hang out, have a great time, get into an argument, split up, and get back together. The thing is, I really don’t know how to handle the whole "Just being friends" thing. Plus, I’m not sure that I really want her as much as I just want someone. I feel that sometimes I just get mad at her because I want something to do. Because I’m tired of being bored and emotionless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think what I’m doing is blaming J for the fact that I have to go home to an empty house and be alone. Not that it really matters, or that it should not matter. The other night J was over and it was about the 3rd night in a row. Things were going pretty good, and then I found myself wanting to go to bed alone. Now things have cooled off again, and I want to be with her all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just seems like a twisted game right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing with my other friends is that I’m just not having that much fun with them. They are good people, and good friends. It just seems like every time we hang out, it’s the same thing. We do that same activities. We go out, drink, go home. Going out is becoming as routine as going to work. True, I don’t do it as much, but it’s the same monotony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what this means. I need to do other things. I need to start organizing other events. I need to get my friends to go play pool. We need to go bowling. We need to do something. This BS of going to the same bars and doing the same crap is getting really old and it’s just not that much fun. I do have a good time when I’m there, but when it’s over I’m really left with nothing. I don’t have any good memories from it. It was just hanging out to kill time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that is the problem that I’m having. I’m killing time. My job, my home life, my existence is just killing time. It’s like I’m waiting for something big to happen, but what?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1499169261862563256-7106431726718311184?l=mikesparadise.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/feeds/7106431726718311184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1499169261862563256&amp;postID=7106431726718311184' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/7106431726718311184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/7106431726718311184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/2008/10/so-now-what.html' title='So, now what...'/><author><name>mikel_antilles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16120030527313232108</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-1499169261862563256.post-6006056402142453826</id><published>2008-10-09T10:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T10:16:54.131-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't wanna grow up...</title><content type='html'>I was eating my lunch a few minutes ago, and Barney was on the TV. I was not overly thrilled with the TV channel selection of this establishment, but shortly I realized that I did not care. It did not matter much what was actually on the TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Barney, some cartoon was on and it made me realize, I really miss cartoons. But then again, is it the cartoons or I’m missing or is it that age I’m missing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try and think back to an age that was fun. Most of the time I think 25 is the perfect age, sometimes I miss high school. Right now, I’m missing being 8 – 10 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you remember 10? I remember playing with my G.I. Joe’s. Using the Ho to create roads for my match box cars. Playing hide and seek in the middle of the night. Jumping fences, climbing trees, playing soccer. All of these things. I was having fun. It seemed that my entire existence was about enjoying the things life had to offer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People that age can’t wait to grow up, because they want their freedom, but I feel more trapped now than ever. Everyday from 7 – 6pm I’m pretty much focused on getting to work and doing what they want me to do. I feel like the relationships with women I have had keeps me emotionally locked up. At times I feel like I have trouble breathing. I want out. I don’t want to play this game any more. I want to go to the beach with a couple cars and build castles and ramps and roads. I want to wake up Saturday morning and watch some fucking cartoons, and then go to sleep again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of all, I want to go back to an age where I did not have to deal with women. I want to be free of the sexual pressures life brings at you. I’m at an age now where I don’t want to just date. Even though I think I skipped that stage. I’m at an age where I’m getting older, and children are important to me. I want to start having a family. How much longer can I wait. The failed relationships I’m having right now are a reminder that I’m getting older. I’m not in my 20’s any more. I have always hated dating, and now dating is kind of a cruel joke. It’s like a reverse sour patch kid. It starts out sweet and ends up sour. All I’m left with is a bitter taste in my mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t want this any more. I want to be 8, and play in the mud.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1499169261862563256-6006056402142453826?l=mikesparadise.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/feeds/6006056402142453826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1499169261862563256&amp;postID=6006056402142453826' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/6006056402142453826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/6006056402142453826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-dont-wanna-grow-up.html' title='I don&apos;t wanna grow up...'/><author><name>mikel_antilles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16120030527313232108</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-1499169261862563256.post-2693427837197866167</id><published>2008-09-26T08:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T08:17:31.449-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's not my problem...</title><content type='html'>It’s remarkable how much one day can change everything&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to the gym yesterday and It felt really good. 30 min of cardio, and 30 minutes of weights. After that, I went home and spend about 15 – 20 on the punching bag. My body is feeling a little sore, but not so much that it hurts. It’s just sore enough to actually feel really good. I’m so pleased right now that I can’t wait to go back after work today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went out last night, and after a health pep talk from one of my good friends, I knew the answer to the question people were going to ask. "It’s not my problem" When ever anyone wanted to talk about it, I would just say, "I’ve been instructed to say, it’s not my problem" People liked that comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later in the night, I did end up saying something to an good female friend. We talked a while about it, but she was the only one. It was good to talk to her about it, because she had gone through similar issues with the same guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I guess something that I told her upset her and she text the guy, he probably told the girl, and she called me. I was already home and did not want to talk to her so I just did not pick it up. I rolled over and went to sleep. I’m guessing that she is mad cause she deleted me as a friend on facebook. I can’t really say that I care. It’s not my problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I woke up early and went to the gym again. There was no sadness this morning, and I have not been sad today. The anger has not passed, but it is fading. I would have to say that as of right now my mood is much improved.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1499169261862563256-2693427837197866167?l=mikesparadise.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/feeds/2693427837197866167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1499169261862563256&amp;postID=2693427837197866167' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/2693427837197866167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/2693427837197866167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/2008/09/its-not-my-problem.html' title='It&apos;s not my problem...'/><author><name>mikel_antilles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16120030527313232108</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-1499169261862563256.post-3053129535891333404</id><published>2008-09-25T14:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T14:08:25.635-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Please...</title><content type='html'>Please tell me that in a week she will call me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please tell me that I did not hand my heart over to a heartless woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please tell me that she still cares for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please tell me that she is hurting, even if I don’t know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please tell me that she really did not know she was attracted to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please tell me that that our feelings were real and not just some cruel dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please tell me that I will never suffer like this again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please tell me that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1499169261862563256-3053129535891333404?l=mikesparadise.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/feeds/3053129535891333404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1499169261862563256&amp;postID=3053129535891333404' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/3053129535891333404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/3053129535891333404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/2008/09/please.html' title='Please...'/><author><name>mikel_antilles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16120030527313232108</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-1499169261862563256.post-4884271622186303838</id><published>2008-09-25T07:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T07:40:21.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm not ok...</title><content type='html'>I find mornings to be the hardest time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even now, I have been up for 2 hours, I find myself wanting to cry at my desk. My eyes have teared up, and I can feel that lump in the back of my throat. By the way, my spell check says teared is no a word. I’m leaving it. I don’t care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don’t understand why this is so hard for me. She was not that good for me. She obviously was not that good of a person, if she would leave me and be with one of my other friends. She was not my friend if the whole time she was "working on it" with me, while she was lusting after him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why does it affect me so much?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I hate being alone, and I love being in love. I really do. I can’t force it, I’ve dated women before and kept it casual, but when I find someone I think I can love, it’s amazing. I give so much. I almost worship that person and I think that is the problem. I don’t really believe they are the end all be all of everything, but shouldn’t the person you love feel like they are?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we were in love, Shouldn’t I do everything in my power to make you feel like the queen of my world? If I’m wrong in doing that, I’m in for a life time of heartache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I think it just hurts the most in the morning. By lunch time, I’ll have developed a fair amount of hate and resentment towards the two of them. It’s just getting to the point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the morning, I remember. I remember what it was like to wake up in her arms. I remember what it was like when we made love. I remember how much she complemented me and made me feel handsome. I’ve been told by a good number of people that I’m handsome. So much so, that I actually let that sink in from time to time, but there is something about the way she said it. It was always so animalistic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remembered the passion we shared. Oh my, it was always hot. It was always good, and I miss that. It was the moments we spent together when there was no one else. In those moments it was like nothing else existed around us. Just her and I….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that all died. The moment we slipped back into reality. The moment she had access to her phone again. The moment she started looking for his text. The moment she alone and needed company. In those moments, he was in control. This is when the anger comes back. This is when I remember every time she told me she loved me, and then text him. This is when I remember that she invited me back to bed while she was holding her phone. Waiting for another text message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember the lies…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could be wrong in this next part, but I irony of this is that It will not work between them. Seriously, the odds of any single relationship lasting forever are slim. That’s why we date. Even if they are a good couple, the odds of it leading where she desperately wants to go is very slim, and that is before all of the issues they have to overcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jamie is a very needy person. That was ok for me, because I’m a needy man. I love attention. Giving and receiving. Aaron does not seem to have that need for attention. Sure, in the early stages of the relationship when everything is fresh and new it is very good. In a month, I think this is going to wear very thin. Plus, he travels all the time for his job. He can be gone for weeks at a time. I think that, for her, she will seek other attention. Personally, I think she will call me and try and make a friendship with me again. I could be wrong, but she has been very reluctant to give me up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He also does not seem to be very passionate. He never gets very excited. She and I used to have very passionate sex. He comes of as quiet and calm. This could just be the way he is, and when he’s behind closed doors he’s an animal, but I have a hard time seeing it. But he could be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, there is the rumor that he is not well "equipped" most men believe they are smaller than they are, but this is one I really hope is true. She loved mine, and I hope the next one is a disappointment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I truly believe that you should never relish in the disappointment of others. I believe that any desire for the failure of others is the ultimate in selfishness, and unholy activity. I believe that we all do bad things, but to actually wish unhappiness and failure on people is borderline evil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to say, I’m feeling evil about all of this. I don’t like it. I have never felt this way about anyone. I have never felt the desire for something to completely blow up in someone’s face. I don’t like that I’m this way, but at the same time. I have stopped caring.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1499169261862563256-4884271622186303838?l=mikesparadise.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/feeds/4884271622186303838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1499169261862563256&amp;postID=4884271622186303838' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/4884271622186303838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/4884271622186303838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/2008/09/im-not-ok.html' title='I&apos;m not ok...'/><author><name>mikel_antilles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16120030527313232108</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-1499169261862563256.post-5559582051161829048</id><published>2008-09-23T14:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T14:17:41.098-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So my predictions were true...</title><content type='html'>I told her talked to her today and said I told her so.  Now this was something the I kept telling her would happen, but she said there was no way.  She said that it would nto happen.  She was not attracted to him, but today she told me she was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My GF/exGF became friends with one of my previous male friends.  I told her to be careful with him.  Not that I wanted them to not be friends, but just don’t obsess.  Her and I were not broken up, but it was the start. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told her that it did not matter what she was saying now, if she continued to be a part of his life like she was, it would end up like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said she did not want him, and then she said she loved me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, that is done.  She will still tell me that she loves me, but just not in that way.  Now she also admits that she likes him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of coarse she does.  Of course she likes him.  He’s a nice guy.  Tall and good looking.  He’s got that goofy, shy, but rides a sports bike look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s just freaking sad.  You know.  That two people, for over a month and a half can sit there and lie to me like that.  They both told me all the time, we are just friends.  And honestly I accept that.  They were just friends, but the were part is over. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s just so fucked up that they allowed this to develop.  It’s just fucked up that she and him did not see this coming.  And the whole time….I did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1499169261862563256-5559582051161829048?l=mikesparadise.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/feeds/5559582051161829048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1499169261862563256&amp;postID=5559582051161829048' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/5559582051161829048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/5559582051161829048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/2008/09/so-my-predictions-were-true.html' title='So my predictions were true...'/><author><name>mikel_antilles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16120030527313232108</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-1499169261862563256.post-1039119424763417269</id><published>2008-09-17T10:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T10:38:57.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Power...</title><content type='html'>I wonder how many times I’m going to walk into my closet and flip on the light switch.&lt;br /&gt;The power has been out since Saturday morning. I am actually quite surprised that the outage has lasted this long. I know that I have heard of people going weeks without it after a hurricane, but I just figured that being in the neighborhood that I’m in, I would have power by now. I do have gas and water, so life is really not that bad. It’s just that I would really like to have my A/C and lights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jamie has power, but I don’t think that matters for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems we have fought everyday for the past 3 weeks, and I’m pretty sure that I’m done. Done? Am I really? I have such a hard time actually thinking about that. I literally have to remind myself where we are at, and where we have been for the past three weeks before I can even believe it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just kept thinking that things would turn around. I did not feel much different about her, but I could tell that she was acting strange.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was kind of a breaking point for me. Before last night, things seemed to be going the right direction. Before last night, she seemed to be accepting what she had been doing, but then last night was just the last straw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since she had power, and I was without, it was agreed that I would spend the night with her. I went home so that she could go hang out with her friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well about 9 pm she text me, "Hope you are having a good night"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, at 9pm it’s dark out, and there is not much to do in a house with no lights if it is dark out.&lt;br /&gt;I replied that I’m going to bed and that I hope that her and Aaron were having a good night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She gives me an update on what they were doing and wishes me a good night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m a little pissed at this. She knows that I have no power. She knows how uncomfortable it is in the house without power, and yet she can’t invite me over here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I reply with a couple bitchy text messages about how uncomfortable I am, and how sick I felt from dinner. The sickness was true, but it was not as bad as I was making it out to be. Any way, it was only after three text messages that she finally responded. "Do you need any medicine?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I needed a comfortable place to sleep, but I guess hanging out with your friend was more important. Even though, I could have hung out with them or just gone to bed while they hung out. It did not matter to me. As her Boy friend or supposed best friend, I should have been on the top of her list for comfort. I shouldn’t have to be bitching to get her attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that was it for me. I’m tired of her telling me that I’m first in her life, and then I have to sleep in a house with no power while she watches family guy with a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She did invite me over, but only after I created a fuss. At that time, I don’t think I could have even looked at her without being pissed off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew that I had been feeling like a backup friend for quite some time, but I kind of ignored it. I just figured that we were going through what ever we were going through and I would be a priority once again. I think last night I got tired of waiting. I got tired of just being ignored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This whole thing brings to mind a saying I heard a comedian say once….No matter how hot the girl, somewhere, there is a guy tired of putting up with her shit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1499169261862563256-1039119424763417269?l=mikesparadise.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/feeds/1039119424763417269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1499169261862563256&amp;postID=1039119424763417269' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/1039119424763417269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/1039119424763417269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/2008/09/power.html' title='Power...'/><author><name>mikel_antilles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16120030527313232108</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-1499169261862563256.post-3002296130837292940</id><published>2008-09-10T07:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T07:50:28.439-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Some times I feel I got to...Dun Dun...Run away...</title><content type='html'>I’m sitting up here at work again, like I do and I’m coming to the realization that I think heavy metal is the cure for everything. That and maybe some hard core gangster rap. There is something so simple and soothing about its qualities. The rhythmic thumping, screaming, and the mental images it produces really help me out. The music is really capable of drowning out the thoughts that are constantly streaming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was just listening to some Rob Zombie, Marylyn Manson, and Disturbed and I have to admit that my mood is elevated. I may have to keep my headphones on me at all times and take this medicine when ever I feel one of my spells coming on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So last night I hit up the bar with a couple of friends. One of my friends and his wife just found out she’s pregnant, so we were out harassing him a little. I’m happy for him. He and his wife seem so good together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In contrast, I think about Jamie and I and maybe this is not as good as I want it to be. Don’t worry, if I get moody, I’ll put on my music. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know….we just seem so retarded for each other. Despite the fact that we fight, neither one of us can give up. I’m going to seriously back off though. Last night and today, I’m just getting tired. I don’t care very much what happens anymore. I don’t care if she comes back. I would like her to, but does it really matter? Maybe we can just chat and be text message buddies, and occasional friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We text back and forth this morning and it was pretty good, but I’m not really reading into it. She has quite a few friends she does that with. I’m going to concentrate on not trying to see her for a while.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1499169261862563256-3002296130837292940?l=mikesparadise.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/feeds/3002296130837292940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1499169261862563256&amp;postID=3002296130837292940' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/3002296130837292940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/3002296130837292940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/2008/09/some-times-i-feel-i-got-todun-dunrun.html' title='Some times I feel I got to...Dun Dun...Run away...'/><author><name>mikel_antilles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16120030527313232108</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-1499169261862563256.post-7721303451208678728</id><published>2008-09-09T11:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T11:52:11.190-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Busy busy busy...</title><content type='html'>I decided to try and dig up some of my past. I figured that if I really wanted to get my mind off of the present that I would need to obsess about something else for a little while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been googling my Ex wife for quite some time. I figured that she would not have been able to keep her self hidden for to long and I was right. It’s not that I want to contact her, but I really wanted to see how she was doing and what she was up to. Well, I found it. She’s married now, well as of 2004. She has two children and seems to be quite happy. Well, as happy as pictures can make you. Good for her. It did not bother me in the slightest to find that page. I always wondered if it would or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve also started looking up Rae lynn from time to time. I wonder where the family is at, how they are doing. I hope all is well with them too. They are not really on the cutting edge of technology so I’m not to confused about not finding them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have found a few links that I believe reference the family, but the links don’t go anywhere. There is a video or two out there that mentions two of the girls names, and one of their cousins. I don’t’ know if it’s really them, but it has three names that I recognize. I really hope they are all doing well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was right about the distraction working. It has allowed me to keep my mind off of Jamie for at least an hour or two. Sneaking some work in here and there and I might still pull a productive day out of this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crap, she just text me. I really don’t know what to say. I really want to ignore it, and I think I’ll try. It’s just not in my nature to ignore things like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh!!!!!!!!!!! If she had left me alone, I could just wallow in self thought….Now I have to consider texting back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1499169261862563256-7721303451208678728?l=mikesparadise.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/feeds/7721303451208678728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1499169261862563256&amp;postID=7721303451208678728' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/7721303451208678728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/7721303451208678728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/2008/09/busy-busy-busy.html' title='Busy busy busy...'/><author><name>mikel_antilles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16120030527313232108</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-1499169261862563256.post-8327051224952317287</id><published>2008-09-09T09:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T09:32:00.864-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just plain tired...</title><content type='html'>I’m trying to sit here and keep my mind clear. I need to do something. I need to find some activity that takes my mind off its present coarse. As it is, there is only one thing I can even manage to think about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that I’m done believing that my Ex and her friend are "Just friends". While I’m sure they have not started anything yet, I do believe it’s just a matter of time. Not that they would be a good couple. Honestly, I think they would drive each other nuts, but then again maybe opposites attract.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He’s a good looking guy, interesting, but kind of boring. He’s got no passion. He does not really get excited about much. She on the other hand is very passionate. She starts shit up and goes 90 mph one minute and slams on the breaks the next. She’s a rollercoaster and for me that was good. I’m not really sure he can deal with that, or that he will for very long. He’s got a lot of female friends, this is something that most passionate women can not handle, but then again, you never know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m really sick of hearing the bull crap about needing to be friends before dating. Jamie and I were friends, not great friends, but when we found out that we were attracted to each other, we jumped into it. We learned things along the way, things that I don’t really think would have changed us even if we knew them before we started dating. Plus, there is the aerie of make believe when you are just friends. Accepting of everything and putting on a face. You never really meet the person until you are knee deep in their neuroses. That only comes about by spending way to much time together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it’s finally gotten to the point that I just don’t want to hear it anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I’ve made my mistakes in the past and that is only setting me up to be more aware of what is happening now. Either that, or God is really dragging out my punishment for my sins of the past. The latter does make a fair amount of sense. Hopefully I can pay off my debts and find a happy medium soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lunch is kind of a hard time for me. I need to get out of the office, but at the same time I know that I will be consumed with thoughts of her. I just don’t want to think about it any more. I want to have those memories erased.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1499169261862563256-8327051224952317287?l=mikesparadise.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/feeds/8327051224952317287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1499169261862563256&amp;postID=8327051224952317287' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/8327051224952317287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/8327051224952317287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/2008/09/just-plain-tired.html' title='Just plain tired...'/><author><name>mikel_antilles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16120030527313232108</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-1499169261862563256.post-5817375027921398136</id><published>2008-09-05T11:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T11:37:55.454-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lets be friends...</title><content type='html'>I guess I’m thinking that I need to write this down so that I don’t forget. Or…at the very least so that I’ll remember it in my head more clearly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the ex and I were going to try and be friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought that I would be able to make this work. I thought that if I made my self focus on being cold that I could stop wanting her, but realistically I just wanted to be around her. When I thought I was repressing my feelings, my heart and brain were in collusion against me. They formed a plan to convince myself that I could do this. My mind was telling me that it does not matter about your past, you can make this friend thing work. My heart was laughing quietly in the background, thinking if she is just around me she will fall in love with me again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hahahahahhaahhaahahahahahaha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we are driving down into town earlier and I begin to realize what a mistake I made by allowing myself on this little trip. My heart is racing and with every word I’m getting myself closer and closer to break down. She’s telling me about the things going on in her life, and how some guys from her old HS have been contacting her. The whole time I’m sitting there wanting to rip the head off of everyone she’s talked to, and dreaming of the life that is no longer a part of mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not exactly the most supportive feelings for someone who is just a friend. At this point, I’m pretty pissed at my brain and my heart. Of coarse they are laughing in the corner at me telling me that I’m the one who made the decision and I have to deal with it. Ugh!&lt;br /&gt;We make it to our destination and she gets her items.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We start heading back. We are not even out of the parking lot before she’s asking me what’s wrong. I told her the day before, if we are going to be friends she just has to accept me being quiet. She has to accept there are times I need to detach myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now….My brain starts thinking…I can explain this…it’s ok….My heart is thinking that I feel like expressing myself, so go for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hahahahhaahhahahahahahahahah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never listen to your heart or your brain, they will deceive you.&lt;br /&gt;By now, I could write these conversations out before they even happen. She’s sitting next to me telling me that she will always Love me, but that is not what this is about, is it. I’m looking for her to be in love with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She tries to comfort me and my heart is about to explode. She’s wanting to hold my hand to make me feel better. I’m sitting there thinking that I feel this way because I can’t hold your hand. The person I’m feeling so tortured over is the one trying to comfort me. I just want to hold her, but she only wants to hold me when I feel like this. This is not good.&lt;br /&gt;Things get heated….and before I know it we are yelling again. I don’t know how we even got to this point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really hate that this relationship ended. L&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1499169261862563256-5817375027921398136?l=mikesparadise.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/feeds/5817375027921398136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1499169261862563256&amp;postID=5817375027921398136' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/5817375027921398136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/5817375027921398136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/2008/09/lets-be-friends.html' title='Lets be friends...'/><author><name>mikel_antilles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16120030527313232108</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-1499169261862563256.post-437199479974122836</id><published>2008-09-04T10:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T10:46:38.821-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just sad...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I’m going through another breakup again.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems like the story of my life. I’m 33 years old and I have not been able to get anything to work out. My marriage of 5 years ended, and since then It’s been one freaking mess after another. The only time that I felt like had any control was when I was just "casually" dating.&lt;br /&gt;Really, only when I told myself from the beginning that I would not get attached, only then did it actually workout until I broke it off. A couple years ago, I was engaged to someone. Engaged for almost a week total before she decided that we were not going to work out. Odd, because up until the engagement everything was fine.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I was dating a wonderful woman. Very passionate, just like I am. The relationship was a wonderful adventure of highs and lows. Eventually we ended. We tried to stay friends, but I was unable to keep that side of it. I was still to attached and it would drive me crazy. Even though she was giving me more attention than most people, I would get emotional because I wanted more. I did not want to be just her friend. I wanted the life we had been planning. The one we talked about. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I find myself in a place I know to well. I have lost my love, and most of my friends. The people I’m used to spending so much time with have been annoying me and I don’t really know who to trust. I don’t know anyone I feel I can talk to about all of this. I feel like when my ex-wife left, and when Rae Lynn left. I feel utterly alone. As if when I leave work today, I don’t know where to go. If I end up somewhere, what am I supposed to do? Home seems like an odd place. It seems so empty when she is not there. It feels quiet.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m glad my roommate has his two rooms, but I never see him really. I never talk to him. He’s a good guy, but he just keeps to himself.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well….I guess this will allow me to spend more time at the gym.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1499169261862563256-437199479974122836?l=mikesparadise.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/feeds/437199479974122836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1499169261862563256&amp;postID=437199479974122836' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/437199479974122836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/437199479974122836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/2008/09/just-sad.html' title='Just sad...'/><author><name>mikel_antilles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16120030527313232108</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-1499169261862563256.post-5449596329403096377</id><published>2008-08-12T09:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T09:19:15.631-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Frustrated...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently my friend is loving her new lap top while I sit and type on a computer that crashes every 5 minutes. Really, I built a computer from scratch 2 years ago and now it’s just a paper weight. I gave up on it about a month ago and decided to purchase a new one. Well, 22 days later and they still have not shipped the dang thing. It’s from a reputable company, so I don’t have to get worried that it’s never going to show up, but the thing is I want my computer. I wanted and expected it about a week ago, and I’m still sitting at home with the POS. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I’m pretty sure they are going to finish this up in the next day or two and that’s not to bad, but I’m going on vacation on Thursday and I’m going to be out for a week. Given the ship time, it should be at my house around the time I’m sitting in a cabin at the top of a mountain. I’m really just frustrated with the whole thing because I don’t know if the package is going to need to be signed for or what. If they leave it on the front porch and it does not get stolen, my roommate can bring it in and that won’t be a problem. If the package needs to be signed for, then I don’t know what I need to do. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh…if they just had not had their production delays this never would have been an issue and I could be transferring stuff right now.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My only satisfaction comes from the fact that when I build my computer on their website again, it comes out more expensive than what I actually paid for it. I had about a $150 discount that is not being offered anymore. So, at least I have that going for me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well….&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1499169261862563256-5449596329403096377?l=mikesparadise.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/feeds/5449596329403096377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1499169261862563256&amp;postID=5449596329403096377' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/5449596329403096377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/5449596329403096377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/2008/08/frustrated.html' title='Frustrated...'/><author><name>mikel_antilles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16120030527313232108</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-1499169261862563256.post-7117214062221792441</id><published>2008-08-06T10:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T10:34:55.912-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tech Envy...</title><content type='html'>I’m going to cave and buy an Iphone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe I’m going thought some midlife crisis to better my self thought material possessions. Now I realize that there is no actual way to do this and that by making all of these purchases I’m actually taking away from my quality of life, but I can’t seem to stop. I keep picking up the check book and throwing money around. Some how I believe the next great purchase will complete me. Let’s look at the things that I have decided to purchase&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iphone&lt;br /&gt;New bad-ass computer&lt;br /&gt;HDTV for the bedroom&lt;br /&gt;GPS for Hiking (I don’t hike much)&lt;br /&gt;SLR Camera and tripod&lt;br /&gt;PS3 (cause it’s also a blue ray player, and I have the HDTV)&lt;br /&gt;Back pack (for a day trip hike)&lt;br /&gt;New/Used car (ok…this I really did need…the other one was 10+ yr old)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really, I needed all of these things. I figured that If I keep telling myself that, I’ll feel better about all of it. Really, though… I think I use the excuse of, Now that I have these things, I don’t have to worry about getting them in the future. Does that make any sense….do you ever sit around thinking….dang…If I had only brought my blue ray player?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1499169261862563256-7117214062221792441?l=mikesparadise.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/feeds/7117214062221792441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1499169261862563256&amp;postID=7117214062221792441' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/7117214062221792441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/7117214062221792441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/2008/08/tech-envy.html' title='Tech Envy...'/><author><name>mikel_antilles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16120030527313232108</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-1499169261862563256.post-8680826683831596790</id><published>2008-08-05T13:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T13:13:59.895-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><title type='text'>Simple beginnings</title><content type='html'>Ok, so here I sit. New job, new girl friend, and a new blog. As one of my friends so eloquently pointed out, I have not written in over two years. I’m not really sure why, but I think it’s just one of those habit things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hurricane is hitting us right now as we speak, and I don’t think I have ever seen a nice soft rain like we are seeing now. Seriously, the storm is bringing in the much needed moisture that we have been missing. The funny thing is people are freaking out. Store shelves have been emptied out all over town. Seriously people, this was a category one Hurricane. All the storm is going to do is cause some minor flooding in areas that flood when the sprinklers are left on for to long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At my house it was hardly even raining so I drove to work like normal. The roads were practically empty, visibility was high and it was barely raining. I get here only to find out that everything is closed down. Oh well, I guess we’ll count this as a snow day. We don’t get snow, so this is our excuse for a day off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I need to go finish up some work…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1499169261862563256-8680826683831596790?l=mikesparadise.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/feeds/8680826683831596790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1499169261862563256&amp;postID=8680826683831596790' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/8680826683831596790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1499169261862563256/posts/default/8680826683831596790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mikesparadise.blogspot.com/2008/08/simple-beginnings.html' title='Simple beginnings'/><author><name>mikel_antilles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16120030527313232108</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>
