<?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-715725385203501979</id><updated>2011-12-07T13:28:50.376-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hodge-Podge &amp; Malarkey</title><subtitle type='html'>[a bunch of nonsensical mumble-jumble I like to call my life]</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Toni Witkofski</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00347913159534143554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/TG18NtO_o5I/AAAAAAAAAD8/cn5ktrVKvQc/S220/blink.jpg'/></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-715725385203501979.post-2701340546464264761</id><published>2011-03-08T11:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-08T13:55:35.329-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Paws, Paws, Paws</title><content type='html'>I'm pretty convinced on a daily basis that my dog, Kappa, a gorgeous 50-pound half-Shepard half-husky mix, is still the best $40 I ever spent. I adopted her&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5219/5510266686_010024bbd9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 407px; height: 407px;" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5219/5510266686_010024bbd9.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; about a year and a half ago at the &lt;a href="http://edmondok.com/safety/animalwelfare/adoptions"&gt;Edmond Animal Welfare&lt;/a&gt; not knowing a thing about her, her habits, her personality, etc. Good thing for me, the guy who had her before me trained her exquisitely. House-trained like none other, doesn't chow anything other than her toys, her bag of dog food is sitting on the kitchen floor next to her bowls and she doesn't tear into it. However, she does have a weird fetish for people scratching her behind. She's so weird! But is absolutely without a doubt the least stressful and most enjoyable thing in my life.  Granted, she spends most of her time underneath my bed as opposed to cuddled up next to me like I would like her to but nonetheless I love her just the same. There's nothing more relieving after being gone all day than to come home knowing that as soon as I open the door she's going to be there wagging tail and happy eyes to greet me. Hands down, best $40 spent ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been looking into getting a small dog lately, too. For numerous reasons. A playmate for her, a cuddle-up friend for me, and simply because I've always wanted a big dog and a little dog. As of right now, I'm just doing some online browsing via &lt;a href="http://www.adoptapet.com/"&gt;adoptapet&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.petfinder.com/"&gt;petfinder&lt;/a&gt;. There is still some uncertainty about what breed I really want, I think I've narrowed it down to "cute and fuzzy."  Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to go out and get the first cute dog that makes me say 'awwwww.' I need to make sure the dog is what I want personality, habits, and companion-wise for myself and Kappa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some candidates are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://uploads.1-800-save-a-pet.com/images/pets/e/a/c/71268039.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 216px;" src="http://uploads.1-800-save-a-pet.com/images/pets/e/a/c/71268039.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.adoptapet.com/pet5085131.html"&gt;Herbie &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is he not just precious??&lt;br /&gt;I'm not entirely sure if I want to go the Yorkie route.&lt;br /&gt;Seems very stereotypical but he's undeniably adorable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.adoptapet.com/pet4781028.html"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.adoptapet.com/pet4781028.html"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 192px; height: 256px;" src="http://uploads.1-800-save-a-pet.com/images/pets/b/f/1/69205864.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.adoptapet.com/pet4781028.html"&gt;an &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I absolutely l.o.v.e. him!&lt;br /&gt;His little wiry face is stinkin' adorable.&lt;br /&gt;However, his profile says he's very shy and timid  and needs a dog&lt;br /&gt;friend which would work well for Kappa but I'm not sure I want another shy and timid dog like Kappa, which is weird for Dachshunds. But who knows he might be more personable in real life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photocache.petfinder.com/fotos/OK151/OK151.18742740-1-x.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 179px; height: 269px;" src="http://photocache.petfinder.com/fotos/OK151/OK151.18742740-1-x.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/18742740"&gt;Stewie &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I "aww" every time I look at this picture. When I read up on his profile I thought I had a winner winner chicken dinner. He's potty trained, crate trained, playful, cuddly, gets along with other dogs. However, Mr. Stewie is out of a Westie Rescue in Tulsa and nowadays everyone is requiring you to fill out an application for get a dog. Problem is, the standards this rescue holds for you to have a dog are&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; ridiculous&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;OWR (Oklahoma Westie Rescue) only approves applicants in OK, TX, AR, MS, and KS. They do not adopt to households with children under the age of 10. As well as, any applicant that does not have a fenced yard will be denied; which rules out anyone living in an apartment (this being me). &lt;a href="http://www.okwestierescue.com/Adoption_Application.htm"&gt;See&lt;/a&gt; for yourself.&lt;br /&gt;Since when did it become so hard to get a dog?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://uploads.1-800-save-a-pet.com/images/pets/b/f/1/69205864.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/715725385203501979-2701340546464264761?l=toniwitkofski.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/feeds/2701340546464264761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2011/03/paws-paws-paws.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/2701340546464264761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/2701340546464264761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2011/03/paws-paws-paws.html' title='Paws, Paws, Paws'/><author><name>Toni Witkofski</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00347913159534143554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/TG18NtO_o5I/AAAAAAAAAD8/cn5ktrVKvQc/S220/blink.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5219/5510266686_010024bbd9_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-715725385203501979.post-1999322388400944333</id><published>2010-10-11T12:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T12:58:50.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Senioritis? I think YES</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://newsimg.bbc.co.uk/media/images/42481000/jpg/_42481560_knuthides_afp416.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 416px; height: 300px;" src="http://newsimg.bbc.co.uk/media/images/42481000/jpg/_42481560_knuthides_afp416.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;" &gt;I feel like school is the scary part of a horror movie right now. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;" &gt;I just wanna cover my eyes until someone tells me it's over and safe to look again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/715725385203501979-1999322388400944333?l=toniwitkofski.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/feeds/1999322388400944333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2010/10/senioritis-i-think-yes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/1999322388400944333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/1999322388400944333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2010/10/senioritis-i-think-yes.html' title='Senioritis? I think YES'/><author><name>Toni Witkofski</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00347913159534143554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/TG18NtO_o5I/AAAAAAAAAD8/cn5ktrVKvQc/S220/blink.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-715725385203501979.post-6181659197533126056</id><published>2010-08-21T09:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-08T12:05:22.955-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ted Out</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;So, after having a huge &lt;a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Ted%20Out"&gt;Ted out &lt;/a&gt;moment full of what if's and then what's last night I've finally managed to clear my head enough to think about it calmly and rationally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I said, in 16 weeks I will have received my biology degree, then what? What if my GPA isn't high enough? What if I don't get a good score on the GRE (a test which consists of absolutely nothing I've been studying the last 5 years. e.g. math and english)? What if I don't get into PT school? Then what? What do I do? Where do I go? Will I be happy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose these are all appropriate things one should be concerned about when considering the future. How can one even begin to achieve a bright future without so much as an outline of a plan? Aside from absolutely despising the fact that my future rides on 2 numbers and what other people think of those numbers, I am more disturbed by confidently knowing I am completely capable of PT school. Getting there is the part that scares me because it has nothing to do with how capable I &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;know&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; I am, it has everything to do with how capable others &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;think&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/em&gt;I am. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 312px; display: block; height: 183px;" alt="" src="http://waleed.ca/blog/wp-content/uploads/2006/12/capable.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, it's not like I'm freaking out over nothing, and I was once told it's better to overreact than underreact. I'm still not quite sure how much I agree with that statement, however in this case I find it to be true. I guess I would much rather be worried about it and do what I can than think I have this in the bag and be wrong. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do I do? is the question I asked a very good friend of mine last night.&lt;br /&gt;Besides having the utmost confidence in me ("you're smart and empowered enough that whatever you want in this world can be yours"), the answer I got was:"What do you mean, "what do I do"? What are your options? Stay where you are, get worse, or get better. Seems like a pretty easy choice to me."&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I could've gotten a better response. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the most part, I'm very happy with my life but sometimes&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images4.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20101117143112/himym/images/thumb/4/4d/Ted_stella_car.png/800px-Ted_stella_car.png"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 361px; height: 236px;" src="http://images4.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20101117143112/himym/images/thumb/4/4d/Ted_stella_car.png/800px-Ted_stella_car.png" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I wish I was where I plan to be rather than where I am now. I get in some unnecessary hurry, and truth be told, there's no such thing as hurrying time. In times like these I can't help but refer back to the joke Stella told Ted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I talked my way outta a speeding ticket one time, when I got pulled over the cop walked up to my window and said, 'young lady, I have been waiting here for you all day.' And I looked at him and said, 'I'm sorry, officer, I got here as fast as I could.'" Every time I get in a hurry this always pops into my mind bringing me some kind of comfort and reminding me that I'll get wherever I'm going as fast as I can get there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/715725385203501979-6181659197533126056?l=toniwitkofski.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/feeds/6181659197533126056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2010/08/ted-out.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/6181659197533126056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/6181659197533126056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2010/08/ted-out.html' title='Ted Out'/><author><name>Toni Witkofski</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00347913159534143554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/TG18NtO_o5I/AAAAAAAAAD8/cn5ktrVKvQc/S220/blink.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-715725385203501979.post-7851923387639218565</id><published>2010-08-19T11:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-19T11:41:42.177-07:00</updated><title type='text'>There's No Comforting in the Waiting Room</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;In 16 weeks, I will be a University of Central Oklahoma graduate with a Bachelor's in Biology.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what next?&lt;br /&gt;Great question. I gotta couple of ideas though. I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Excited doesn't even begin to describe how I feel about the end of December. I've been waiting for this for what seems like forever and after it gets here I sure as hell am not staying in Oklahoma. One thing's for certain is I don't plan on going back to school for at least a year after graduation. So, what're the options:&lt;br /&gt;1. Move to Denver.&lt;br /&gt;2. Move to Wisconsin&lt;br /&gt;3. Stay living at home and travel. A. Lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always have made a majority of my decisions based on what I think will make me happiest. Not what would be mor beneficial. Not what I want. Not what others want. Because in the end if I don't do what makes me happiest, I will inevitably be unhappiest with my choice. Problem is this time, I have no earthly idea which of these options would make me happiest, so how do I even begin planning?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/interesting_life.png"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 279px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 317px" alt="" src="http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/interesting_life.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be quite honest, at the present time moving to Denver makes the most sense. I honestly don't really have a reason NOT to go to Denver. I could easily live there. I could more easily get a job. After a year, I could go to school. Pretty much end of story.&lt;br /&gt;Wisconsin, I'd be taken a chance big time. The bad thing about chance is they have the possibility of ending horribly and I'm not in the position for something to end horribly. But c'est la vie. What's life if you don't take chances?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Staying at home. Well, Oklahoma.....sucks. I love my friends, I love the city, I love the places I go, I love my jobs (for the most part). Hard to see how a place sucks when I love so many things. I was just presented with an opportunity yesterday to get into the hospital working with physical therapy at the spine hospital. That would be some kind of amazing. Fingers crossed. I suppose I feel like I need to get out when I have the chance because I don't want to be 'stuck here.' I know in my heart I would never be completely happy living here. Or maybe I would and I just don't know it without having tried other places. Who says I can't always come back. Regardless, I'm hoping life presents itself like it always seems to and I end up on the right path.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;life is what happens when you are busy making other plans&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/715725385203501979-7851923387639218565?l=toniwitkofski.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/feeds/7851923387639218565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2010/08/theres-no-comforting-in-waiting-room.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/7851923387639218565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/7851923387639218565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2010/08/theres-no-comforting-in-waiting-room.html' title='There&apos;s No Comforting in the Waiting Room'/><author><name>Toni Witkofski</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00347913159534143554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/TG18NtO_o5I/AAAAAAAAAD8/cn5ktrVKvQc/S220/blink.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-715725385203501979.post-942320784415333616</id><published>2010-05-06T11:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T09:39:02.895-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When are we truly ourselves?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I was once told I was an odd soul.&lt;br /&gt;I suppose they were accurate in that accusation.&lt;br /&gt;I'm the farthest thing from perfect&lt;br /&gt;I am an absolute enigma.&lt;br /&gt;My mind is dexterous&lt;br /&gt;My intuition is ineffable.&lt;br /&gt;I wonder what the camera really sees&lt;br /&gt;I have the most forgiving heart you've ever known&lt;br /&gt;I'm the most intense soul with whom you've ever connected&lt;br /&gt;I can be the moodiest baby&lt;br /&gt;I can be an asshole of the grandest kind&lt;br /&gt;I can withhold like it's going out of style&lt;br /&gt;You've never met anyone who can be as negative as me sometimes&lt;br /&gt;You've never met anyone who can be as positive as me sometimes&lt;br /&gt;I'm stronger than I give myself credit for&lt;br /&gt;My downfalls have molded me&lt;br /&gt;Never have you met anyone who is as stubborn as I am&lt;br /&gt;I love the feeling of getting tattoos&lt;br /&gt;I'm addicted to pain&lt;br /&gt;and the numbness that follows&lt;br /&gt;I'm convinced music is the only thing I could not live without&lt;br /&gt;In times of trouble I have a tendency to flee&lt;br /&gt;If you can calm my nerves you may have the key&lt;br /&gt;My walls are higher than any you've ever seen before&lt;br /&gt;I'm quietly outspoken&lt;br /&gt;always seriously joking&lt;br /&gt;I attempt to stay as far away from shy as possible&lt;br /&gt;If you're a cute enough boy you may get me tongue tied&lt;br /&gt;I'm my own biggest fan&lt;br /&gt;I'm my own biggest critic&lt;br /&gt;I like boys with clear minds&lt;br /&gt;My passive-aggressiveness can be devastating&lt;br /&gt;I'm terrified and mistrusting&lt;br /&gt;There's not anything to which you cannot relate&lt;br /&gt;There's so much to which you cannot understand&lt;br /&gt;I don't know a lot about everything&lt;br /&gt;but I do know about the part of everything I do know&lt;br /&gt;I'm just a girl with big dreams.&lt;br /&gt;Living is easy with eyes closed&lt;br /&gt;I want to experience&lt;br /&gt;I want to see&lt;br /&gt;I want to stop time in a box&lt;br /&gt;I want the ability to love without fear&lt;br /&gt;and the courage to go after what I desire&lt;br /&gt;I will prove you wrong for my own satisfaction&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/715725385203501979-942320784415333616?l=toniwitkofski.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/feeds/942320784415333616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-was-once-told-i-was-odd-soul.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/942320784415333616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/942320784415333616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-was-once-told-i-was-odd-soul.html' title='When are we truly ourselves?'/><author><name>Toni Witkofski</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00347913159534143554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/TG18NtO_o5I/AAAAAAAAAD8/cn5ktrVKvQc/S220/blink.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-715725385203501979.post-4921873328891421910</id><published>2009-12-03T15:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T21:48:09.360-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Come Back</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/SxhHTBrLU8I/AAAAAAAAADk/V5NT2RqkjWg/s1600-h/comeback.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/SxhHTBrLU8I/AAAAAAAAADk/V5NT2RqkjWg/s320/comeback.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411153344478270402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So, I've taken on a bit of a challenge. In spite of an urge to be creative, I volunteered myself to &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=218313129895&amp;amp;ref=ts"&gt;Project Fifty&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Challenge:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I must write a literary piece about the picture shown above. No more than 5 minutes long when read aloud. Due Dec 7. &lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Why:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;My silly little self was feeling adventurous. I am in no way advanced in the writing department. However, I am very excited to be doing this &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;because &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;it is a challenge. I'm pretty sure I'm underestimating myself and I'm pretty pumped to see what I come up with. I will post my creation. Stay tuned. x&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/715725385203501979-4921873328891421910?l=toniwitkofski.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/feeds/4921873328891421910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2009/12/come-back.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/4921873328891421910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/4921873328891421910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2009/12/come-back.html' title='Come Back'/><author><name>Toni Witkofski</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00347913159534143554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/TG18NtO_o5I/AAAAAAAAAD8/cn5ktrVKvQc/S220/blink.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/SxhHTBrLU8I/AAAAAAAAADk/V5NT2RqkjWg/s72-c/comeback.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-715725385203501979.post-174822771893676832</id><published>2009-09-07T23:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T00:58:01.721-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ginger</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;[&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;We allow people to treat us the way that they do, good or bad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;My good friend said this to me tonight and I had to write it down because it makes me think in a whole new perspective. I want to be able to come back to it. x&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/715725385203501979-174822771893676832?l=toniwitkofski.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/feeds/174822771893676832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2009/09/ginger.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/174822771893676832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/174822771893676832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2009/09/ginger.html' title='ginger'/><author><name>Toni Witkofski</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00347913159534143554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/TG18NtO_o5I/AAAAAAAAAD8/cn5ktrVKvQc/S220/blink.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-715725385203501979.post-455171296209234650</id><published>2009-09-03T22:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T00:58:29.331-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Great Gatsby</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Whoa, it's been awhile since I've written anything. Looking forward to it a bit right now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Just ending the 3rd week of being back to school and things are just now starting to have little bit more normalcy after having a very very stressful first two weeks. Loan money finally came in so I should be getting a new car by Sunday, yippee! Aside from that there's been a mix of excitement and concern in my atmosphere. I suppose there's been a few things on my mind lately. Although I think I've kept myself too wrapped in school and concentrating on the excitement to really let myself think about the concern too much. Or perhaps I have simply chosen not to let it get to me. Hmph. Tomorrow I go back to work so that should just give me one more thing to distract myself with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I can't wait for December. I'm convinced if I distract myself well enough it will get here quicker. I don't think I've ever noticed the planes flying in the sky as much as I have lately. Every time I see one I hear it taunt me, "let me take you away....but not until December. Hahaha" Damn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I'm pretty sure this is going to be the most exciting trip I've taken thus far considering I've been saying for a good number years that I was one day going to visit my English friend in his home land and now it's finally happening! Here's the plan: I land in London December 22nd and we wing it. That's right, I'm going to Europe without a plan. And I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" &gt;l♥ve&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; this plan. As long as I'm back in London 3 weeks later to catch my flight back home. Psh! who am I kidding? I'm not coming back. The best part is Christmas, New Year's, and both birthdays will be celebrated together. I say that makes up for all these years of waiting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One-hundred eight day and counting...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;|&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Time is the only thing separating me from the green light across the ocean&lt;/span&gt;|&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xx&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/715725385203501979-455171296209234650?l=toniwitkofski.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/feeds/455171296209234650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2009/09/great-gatsby.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/455171296209234650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/455171296209234650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2009/09/great-gatsby.html' title='The Great Gatsby'/><author><name>Toni Witkofski</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00347913159534143554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/TG18NtO_o5I/AAAAAAAAAD8/cn5ktrVKvQc/S220/blink.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-715725385203501979.post-7845812153708553020</id><published>2009-07-05T15:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T17:32:36.099-07:00</updated><title type='text'>let me show you</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I recently signed up on www.couchsurfing.org . For those of you who are unfamiliar with couchsurfing  a brief way to put it is you open up your couch/extra bedroom/floor for people who are traveling to stay in rather than they pay for lodging at a hotel/hostel. Brilliant if you ask me. I have not had the chance to surf any couches but I did host my first surfers for the past 2 days. Let me just say, I had the best 4th of July ever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The 2 surfers, best friends Lindsay (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;http://tinyurl.com/ouhejm) &lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;and Courtenay, are originally from Olympia, Washington and together they are going on an epic pilgrimage driving all over the country. Lindsay is an aspiring photographer and is using the trip to put together a portfolio of some sort for her classes back in Washington. Courtenay can speak french almost fluently if I'm not mistaken and is moving to France to teach English in the near future.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I received a couchsurfing request from Lindsay asking to surf our couch for July 2nd. I could not have been more excited! With such short notice I wasn't able to request off work for this. I was concerned I wasn't going to have time to show them around city. Luckily, when I got my schedule I was off Thursday night, July 2, and I was ecstatic! Unfortunately, Lindsay and Courtenay weren't able to make it July 2 due to being stuck in an RV in Santa Fe. After being contacted by them, they said they would be getting in late July 3rd.  My roommate and I, both, had to work that night. However, Lindsay and Courtenay arrived right when we both got off work. Couldn't have worked out more perfectly. They were extremely tired from the long 8 hour drive from Santa Fe so we decided to just head on home and take it easy for the night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The next day (Happy 4th of July!) my roommate, Fitz, had to work. Lindsay, Courtenay, and I decided to lay low until she got off work before doing anything that way we could all go together. After she got home, showered, and everyone was all fixed up I decided the first place I needed to take our surfers was Pops (&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;www.pops66.com&lt;/span&gt;). The amazing gas station on historic Route 66 stocked with over 500 different sodas. Before even getting inside Lindsay loved it. Shooting pictures of the giant classic Coke bottle with a straw outside and laughing at the bone-shaped gas pumps. After requesting for a table for 5, (our friend Ben joined us) we ventured back to the refrigerators to select our sodas for lunch. I got a classic Route 66 root beer (mmMmmmm!). Lindsay got a kiwi soda, Courtenay got a Leninade, Ben got a Fitz's and Fitz got a Barack Obama blueberry soda. Lunch was cheeseburgers, hotdogs, and a grilled cheese with french fries, onion rings, and okra. What a lunch!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;We then headed outside to enjoy the (quite humid) Oklahoma outdoors. The storm had started to roll in at this point. The clouds presented Lindsay with the perfect opportunity for some great shots. Lindsay and I walked around the side to the grassy area outside the wall and laid in the (surprisingly soft) grass watching the clouds pass. In the midst of cloud watching, the little kids inside of Lindsay and I overtook us and before we knew it we were log rolling down the soft grassy hill, laughing our heads off only to run right back up and do it again. Courtenay joined in soon as well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;After Pops, we headed to The Paseo. I thought the perfect place to get to know our surfers was Sauced. I invited a few of friends to come join in on welcoming Lindsay and Courtenay to OKC. Our group of 8 sat outside in the still humid Oklahoma air, watching as the dark storm clouds rolled in. Lindsay tried relentlessly to capture a lightning picture. Courtenay said it was because there is never any lightning in Washington. Unfortunately, she never did get her lightning shot. Maybe next time. If I ever catch one, I'll send it to her. Inevitably, the rain came and it was a outright down pour. Not wanting to go inside, we stayed under the roofed patio. Lindsay and Courtenay declared they wanted to "dance in the rain" and I was deemed photoshooter :) After raindancing  and photoshooting, the lot of us ordered a pizza and a couple more beers and shared a couple hours of stories, jokes, laughs and even found a way to incorporate talks about astrology (courtesy of Courtenay and Fitz). Best time I've ever had at Sauced.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;At 9:30 it's fireworks time. Still wet from head to toe, Lindsay and Courtenay climb in the back seat of my car and we head to downtown OKC. We meet up with a friend and enjoy the fireworks show from an alley behind Brew Ha Ha. More photo ops for Lindsay. After the show, we made a plan to have everyone back over at our house since Courtenay wasn't 21 yet (otherwise Edna's would have been the next stop, hands down). Before heading back, Lindsay, Courtenay, Fitz, and I all walked over to the OKC Bombing Memorial.&lt;br /&gt;Lindsay and Courtenay found the little "beeper" things for the blind people at cross-walks very amusing ("Mickey Mantle, Mickey Mantle, Mickey Mantle").  On our way there, I pointed out things like the Skirvin and Leadership Square and the Cox Center and the Myriad Gardens. We headed down Broadway to pose in front of the American Flag painted Bison. Continuing down Broadway, the park dedicated to Robert Kerr caught our eye. It was mostly the waterfall that did but nonetheless, we stopped. Me being me, I, (probably illegally) and definitely obnoxiously, got in the water and walked to the other side of the waterfall while Lindsay took pictures of me on the other side. I was then coaxed into sticking my head through the waterfall. Fitz eventually took part in my water playing games while Lindsay and Courtenay laughed and took pictures. After successfully getting completely soaked we trekked onward to the Memorial. Lindsay and Courtenay didn't know any of the story behind the memorial. When we got there, I filled them in with the significance of all the things that were there. 9:01, 9:03, the chairs, the pool, the Survivor Tree. (http://twitpic.com/1ymuf) A bit serious for us after trudging through waterfalls, but they seemed to enjoy being a part of it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;We then made the long walk back to the car and proceeded on home for a night filled with new acquaintances for them and many more laughs, stories, and good times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Sunday, July 5th, Courtenay and Lindsay continue on their journey across America. Next stop, Austin, TX. We said our goodbyes and I wished them the best of luck for the rest of their trip and told them they always had a place to stay if they ever were back in Oklahoma. They returned the gesture with summoning Fitz and I to go to Olympia and stay with them. I don't think I could have imagined or asked for better people to be my first couchsurfers. It was, by far, the best 4th of July ever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;|&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span class="body"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" &gt;strangers are just friends waiting to happen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;|&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/715725385203501979-7845812153708553020?l=toniwitkofski.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/feeds/7845812153708553020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2009/07/let-me-show-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/7845812153708553020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/7845812153708553020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2009/07/let-me-show-you.html' title='let me show you'/><author><name>Toni Witkofski</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00347913159534143554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/TG18NtO_o5I/AAAAAAAAAD8/cn5ktrVKvQc/S220/blink.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-715725385203501979.post-3872414028789756499</id><published>2009-06-29T12:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T13:08:34.124-07:00</updated><title type='text'>VENTING</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;I'm a little upset today. Although, I think it's been over the course of a period of time and it's all built up. There comes a point, I think, when you have to stop and look at everything and decide what is true and what is not. More importantly though, WHO is true and who is not. Sometimes you hear things from others and sometimes you find out things on your own. Call me a sucker, but I've always been one to give everyone the benefit of the doubt even if it hits me point blank in the face. Likewise I seem to give 2nd chances way too easily. Mostly because I know I, personally, make tons and tons of mistakes. I sometimes can't help but think, though, that those who really are true wouldn't mess up in the first place. I try to be the best person I can be, the best friend I can be, and I try to do anything I can for my friends ("friends"?), but that seems to get thrown back at me, usually about the time I start opening up and letting people in. I suppose this is all a product of feeling like I've been getting screwed for awhile. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;One of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard anyone say to me was from a girl I worked with who was having a fight with her friend and she told me she was upset because her friend  talked bad about her behind her back and she found out. Her exact words about why she was so mad were: "I'm really upset about it because we promised we weren't going to talk bad about each other behind the other's back." ...................................... HUH?!!?  I thought that came with being friends? I mean, at least that's what I think. Maybe I'm outta the loop. Or perhaps I have this whole concept of friendship all wrong. I was pretty certain being a friend to someone consisted of being there, listening, understanding, have good times, helping with the bad, you know all the given stuff. But being a TRUE friend, someone you may even call your best, I guess I just had it stuck in my mind that a true friend would stand up for you when others talk you down, lend you money if you need it, keep secrets you ask them to, not cross the line (and everyone knows there is a line of things friends shouldn't do, like sleep with the ex-boyfriend kind of thing) and when you do have a fight not say bad things about you to other people (1. because it's not their business and 2. because you just don't say bad things unless you're certain the friendship is over because at that point it doesn't matter anymore anyway). Maybe I'm just not a good and/or true friend and that's why all this happens. Maybe I'm not honest or loyal or trustworthy or dependable enough. Or maybe I'm asking too much of people. Who knows. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;It definitely sucks hearing/finding out about things your "friends" said/did because it's like, "damn, I really trusted that person." Then again it's also a relief because at least now you know better. I'm beginning to know better. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;|&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;the only person you can truly and completely trust in the world is you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;|&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/715725385203501979-3872414028789756499?l=toniwitkofski.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/feeds/3872414028789756499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2009/06/venting.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/3872414028789756499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/3872414028789756499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2009/06/venting.html' title='VENTING'/><author><name>Toni Witkofski</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00347913159534143554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/TG18NtO_o5I/AAAAAAAAAD8/cn5ktrVKvQc/S220/blink.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-715725385203501979.post-8573531330934059049</id><published>2009-06-09T15:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T09:20:35.220-07:00</updated><title type='text'>.Insomnia.</title><content type='html'>I've been thinking a lot lately.&lt;br /&gt;Mostly about the past.&lt;br /&gt;Some about the future and hardly any about the present.&lt;br /&gt;In contrast, I seem to be more &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;focused &lt;/span&gt;on the things I'm looking forward to in the future than the things I miss so much about past or the things I'm doing presently.&lt;br /&gt;Interestingly, I seem to be more motivated than I've ever been to accomplish the things I really want to do, even if it means working a ton more and passing up a couple concerts, nights out, and unessential things I just feel like buying.&lt;br /&gt;I'm more willing and determined than ever to stay in and save money.&lt;br /&gt;You know, a question asked so often by so many people is: &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What do you fear most&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;or &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What are you most afraid of in life&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Answer: Not doing the things I really want to in life. In short, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm afraid of not living.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to have stories when I get old (although I swear I'm never going to be old). I want to be able to say:&lt;br /&gt;- I walked the Great Wall of China&lt;br /&gt;- I laid in the grass in front of the Eiffel Tower&lt;br /&gt;- I jumped out of a plane just to say I pushed myself to do something crazy and for the sake of living life on the edge.&lt;br /&gt;- I donated a total of 10 gallons of blood just to save numerous lives.&lt;br /&gt;- I watched a baseball game at Fenway (maybe even catch a foul).&lt;br /&gt;- I hiked through Yellowstone and snowboarded down the Rockies.&lt;br /&gt;- I met Lady Liberty.&lt;br /&gt;- I stood next to the Nile and witnessed the Great Pyramids.&lt;br /&gt;- I found the greatest love imaginable.&lt;br /&gt;- I did something extraordinary for someone else.&lt;br /&gt;- I trained to Stonehenge with a great Brit friend.&lt;br /&gt;- I surfed in the Pacific and ventured through the San Diego Zoo.&lt;br /&gt;- I swam with dolphins.&lt;br /&gt;- I  experienced the Northern Lights from Norway/Russia/Alaska.&lt;br /&gt;- I learned how to sail.&lt;br /&gt;- I made a living of going outside my comfort zone for the love of culture, diversity, trying different things, and doing things I've never done.&lt;br /&gt;And on and on and on. Ah! there are so many things!&lt;br /&gt;I want to do all there is to do and see all there is to see.&lt;br /&gt;Most of all, when I'm 90 years old sitting on the rocking chair with my grandkids, I want to be able to say: "I lived. Boy, did I live. I lived the hell out of life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;|&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. so throw off the bowlines. sail away from the safe harbor. catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;|&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/715725385203501979-8573531330934059049?l=toniwitkofski.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/feeds/8573531330934059049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2009/06/insomnia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/8573531330934059049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/8573531330934059049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2009/06/insomnia.html' title='.Insomnia.'/><author><name>Toni Witkofski</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00347913159534143554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/TG18NtO_o5I/AAAAAAAAAD8/cn5ktrVKvQc/S220/blink.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-715725385203501979.post-3248317282507914795</id><published>2009-06-01T09:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T13:15:04.453-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm not afraid of growing up, just getting old. I know 4 different weddings that happened this past Saturday of people I know. Some of them have kids already, some have kids on the way, some already have kids with more on the way, and some are neither expecting or currently have any. I know it may be the life that they want but the thought of getting married and/or having kids right now terrifies me. There are so many things I want to do and places I want to see before any of that happens. I sometimes feel like I will never have enough time to accomplish the things I want to in life. Getting married or having kids right now would completely change my course of life and hinder everything that I want to do before I am ready to do any of that. I would rather be completely ready for both of those things (marriage/kids) and accept them with full happiness then not to be ready for either and forced to accept them. Yes, it would be nice to have a companion to share the journey with but I don't want to be restrained from venturing the world or jumping from a plane or have to think twice about my decisions because someone else is involved. I just want to do. Live. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/SiQNY1spIEI/AAAAAAAAABA/PQ6w5goY3Rw/s1600-h/Me+with+Colosseum.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/SiQNY1spIEI/AAAAAAAAABA/PQ6w5goY3Rw/s320/Me+with+Colosseum.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342409778350596162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I once got the chance to stand outside of the Colosseum in Rome and look up. Although I toured Italy and saw many miraculous and breath-taking things; the Statue of David, School of Athens, Sistine Chapel, Michelangelo's Pieta, Galileo's house, St. Mark's Basilica; this ---------------&gt; is my greatest memory I have of being there. I remember it so vividly. When I return myself to the night I stood looking up at the Colosseum, it overwhelms me. To this day I can remember the exact thoughts and feelings I had at that exact moment. It wasn't the fact that I was standing in front of one of the greatest pieces of  ancient history or that I was &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;in Rome&lt;/span&gt;, because that never left my mind. I almost cried when I saw the Colosseum for the first time because it was like I was in a dream. During this moment, I felt minuscule. I was irrelevant when compared to the world has a whole. I had never given much thought as to how big the world actually is until that very moment. I was overtaken by the size of the Colosseum. Consumed by it. How could they build something this incredible back then and still have it be standing today? I've been next to and inside skyscrapers and I've never had the reaction I had standing here looking up, speech-less. The only thing I could do was admire. There is something about the fact that I may never get to do the things that I really want to do that scares the hell out of me. I've been to Madrid, Spain and toured Italy, I can't say that I am unfortunate for that, because I consider myself very lucky to have had that opportunity, but like every human once you get a taste of it you just want more. I want nothing more than to see the world. Before it's too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;|&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia, bookman old style, palatino linotype, book antiqua, palatino, trebuchet ms, helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, avante garde, century gothic, comic sans ms, times, times new roman, serif;font-size:85%;"&gt;The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.  ~St. Augustine &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;|&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/715725385203501979-3248317282507914795?l=toniwitkofski.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/feeds/3248317282507914795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2009/06/im-not-afraid-of-growing-up-just.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/3248317282507914795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/3248317282507914795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2009/06/im-not-afraid-of-growing-up-just.html' title='&lt;growing up but not old&gt;'/><author><name>Toni Witkofski</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00347913159534143554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/TG18NtO_o5I/AAAAAAAAAD8/cn5ktrVKvQc/S220/blink.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/SiQNY1spIEI/AAAAAAAAABA/PQ6w5goY3Rw/s72-c/Me+with+Colosseum.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-715725385203501979.post-2040730809642187863</id><published>2009-04-20T20:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-19T10:56:30.421-07:00</updated><title type='text'>↑ Always Looking Up ↑</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/Se07pqcoVcI/AAAAAAAAAA4/vr-3hLFsbqc/s1600-h/alwayslookingup.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326979521204213186" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 211px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/Se07pqcoVcI/AAAAAAAAAA4/vr-3hLFsbqc/s320/alwayslookingup.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;This book by Michael J. Fox caught my eye in Wal-mart yesterday and I haven't been able to get it off my mind since. Let's be real..... I have to have it. After reading the first few pages I thought to myself about how I used to relate and how I relate now. Granted, I don't have Parkinson's but there are obstacles in everyone's life that cripple you. Some for a short period of time and others for life. But the way you deal with those obstacles ultimately determines and defines who you are. Everyone has had their own personal "Parkinson's disease." Sometimes it starts out as a small 'twitch' while other times it hits you like a seizure. For me, I was "diagnosed" September 25, 2006.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;At about 8 o'clock that night I was hit with the worst news I could ever imagine. News that I knew changed me from that moment on for the rest of my life. Life as I knew it was over and I knew I would never be the same. When faced with such a life-changing event one is forced to look at and re-evaluate life. You begin thinking way too much and everything that used to be 'normal' isn't so normal anymore. Waking up for your morning cup of coffee just isn't the same. Your favorite places don't bring that sense of joy to your heart when you walk through the door. Inside jokes aren't as funny as they once were. Friends surround you and dissolve the pain for moments but only to have it solidify when you are once again in your own company. Nothing seems to help. After the pain subsides, fear creeps its way in to corrupt and influence every decision from here on out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;I was paralyzed by the fear. Taken, consumed, and controlled by it. My every decision (or indecision) was based solely on the pure intoxication of being so afraid of having regrets or making mistakes, only to find out 2 years later that that was my biggest mistake of all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;You will never hear me say I regret any of it. I don't regret the weeks I sat at home alone. I don't regret the 25 lbs I gained (and lost!). I don't regret quitting my job and moving away. I don't regret being helpless and sad. I don't regret putting such a dependency on one person to make it all better and shutting everyone else out. But most of all, I don't regret losing that one person even though he was the force that held my broken world together, at that time. In my mind, I was convinced I couldn't do it on my own and that I needed him in order for me to be okay. Whether he says bad things about me to this day is beyond me but regardless, love was my novacaine. Numbing the pain and keeping me just high enough to go through the motions of life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;In a sense some would call me an ex-drug addict, so to speak. Some would say I just got over it. Some would say I grew up or that reality finally hit me. As for me, I say the answer has very little to do with any of those things and everything to do with perspective. The perspective I took on life. The only thing I had no say in was whether or not I had to live with this 'disease' for the rest of my life. That part was inevitable. Everything else was up to me. I knew I had a choice. I could continue to wake up every day concentrating on the fact that it wasn't going to change or I could get on with my life and see if maybe the empty void would eventually start filling itself in. And so far, it has.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;My biggest challenge was accepting what was at hand. The mere fact of being identified as the girl who was diagnosed with a 'disease' 2 years ago wasn't something I was keen on. I didn't want anyone else to know, I didn't want to talk about it, I didn't want people to feel sorry for me, and as long as I could keep it hidden I was still just a normal person. A mind-set which created the perfect scene for complete denial. I painted myself as a fictional character in a non-fiction world. That had to change. A new road needed to be taken, and in any instance when that happens, the old one is abandoned, but never forgotten.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;["&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;At the turn from our bedroom into the hallway, there is an old full-length mirror in a wooden frame. I can't help but catch a glimpse of myself as I pass. Turning fully toward the glass, I consider what I see. This reflected version of myself, wet, shaking, rumpled, pinched, and slightly stooped, would be alarming were it not for the self-satisfied expression pasted across my face. I would ask the obvious question, 'what are you smile about?' but I already know the answer: 'it just get better from here.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt; "* ]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;Michael J. Fox couldn't have said this any better. Although it being his morning routine there probably wasn't much thought in the writing process. In any sense, it is one of the most influential things I've read in a long time. The passage precisely combines the two worlds of what once was and what is now. Once upon a time, a broken "sick" girl. Happily ever after, an unfaltering, headstrong, confident girl energized by the simple sound of her dog's bark or the warm feel of the sun on her face. A girl characterized, by her friends ;), for her charm, enthusiasm, ability to have fun, and simply being superfantastical. A girl who, for the first time in her life, has grown to love and know exactly who she is. That girl is me, and I couldn't love me more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;Michael J. Fox and I share the common belief that any situation, given the right circumstances, can be improved. Tough times are going to wage war on the good times and I was always one to admit defeat before any of my soldiers could get hurt. You know the typical, life gives you lemon, make lemonade. If it rains on your parade, dance in it. Unfortunately the stresses of today's society and economic standing mak&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;e it extremely difficult to keep such an up-look on life. But for a second, take glimpse at your past, when tough times came did they not eventually leave too? Life has a peculiar way of working itself out. Sometimes it feels like you're taking one step forward and two steps back. Or maybe you just completely clasp. The important thing is is that you're taking that one step, and make that one step count. I'll never conquer my 'disease' and I know there will be days when it gets the best of me. When those times come, along with other tough times that intercept my path, I remind myself that it will all come to pass but in the meantime, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;take&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; it&lt;/span&gt; in &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;stride&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It's not that I don't feel the aching pain of loss. It's not that I don't wake up every day and not have it be the first thing to cross my mind. It's not that it has no effect on me when I sit down and really think about it, because sometimes, when you're alone, minutes pass before you even realize you're crying. So, what's my 'disease'? The one that changed, transformed, molded, and forever impacted mine and my family's life for the rest of eternity... well, let's just say I have the best Mom in the whole world, always has been and always will be. And there was a time when I was once the best big sister to craziest, funniest, most amazing, biggest little bro ever. Being an only child wasn't in the script, but somehow on that September night it made it's way there. The journey has been one of great tribulation, but one that has taught me the greatest life lessons I will carry with me for the rest of my life. Cherish your family, love your friends, have no regrets, fear no mistakes, do what makes you happy because you only live once, and most of all,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;[Always. Look. Up.]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left;font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;3.8.1989 - 9.25.2006&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/715725385203501979-2040730809642187863?l=toniwitkofski.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/feeds/2040730809642187863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2009/04/always-looking-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/2040730809642187863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/2040730809642187863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2009/04/always-looking-up.html' title='↑ Always Looking Up ↑'/><author><name>Toni Witkofski</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00347913159534143554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/TG18NtO_o5I/AAAAAAAAAD8/cn5ktrVKvQc/S220/blink.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/Se07pqcoVcI/AAAAAAAAAA4/vr-3hLFsbqc/s72-c/alwayslookingup.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-715725385203501979.post-6771402301648027861</id><published>2009-04-14T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T13:12:58.888-07:00</updated><title type='text'>::Diamond Excitement::</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/SeTtviT4H9I/AAAAAAAAAAw/n7maSnW_O4o/s1600-h/Mascot.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/SeTtviT4H9I/AAAAAAAAAAw/n7maSnW_O4o/s200/Mascot.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324642060378578898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia, bookman old style, palatino linotype, book antiqua, palatino, trebuchet ms, helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, avante garde, century gothic, comic sans ms, times, times new roman, serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I am sooooo glad it's baseball season! The joy of being outside in the beautiful sun enjoying a brewsky with a hotdog is more than I can bear! I'm like a kindergardener with finger paint. Needless to say, I am a little depressed the Thunder season has come to an end but all the more to be excited for it to start up again. Meanwhile, I will be enjoying the sound of bat-cracking homeruns, 1-2-3 strikes out you're out!, the smell of peanuts and cracker jacks, and root root rooting for the home team Redhawks. So take me out to the ball game!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;|&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A hot dog at the ballgame beats roast beef at the Ritz.  -Humphrey Bogart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;|&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/715725385203501979-6771402301648027861?l=toniwitkofski.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/feeds/6771402301648027861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2009/04/diamond-excitement.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/6771402301648027861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/6771402301648027861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2009/04/diamond-excitement.html' title='::Diamond Excitement::'/><author><name>Toni Witkofski</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00347913159534143554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/TG18NtO_o5I/AAAAAAAAAD8/cn5ktrVKvQc/S220/blink.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/SeTtviT4H9I/AAAAAAAAAAw/n7maSnW_O4o/s72-c/Mascot.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-715725385203501979.post-2893261207216164209</id><published>2009-04-09T12:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T14:25:30.599-07:00</updated><title type='text'>[Pretty Days]</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:130%;" &gt;You know those days when after all is said and done and you stroll over to the full-length mirror to evaluate yourself before heading out into the world and you think, "I'm lookin' goooood&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:130%;" &gt;" (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;for you guys out there&lt;/span&gt;) or "I'm really pretty today" (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;for the ladies&lt;/span&gt;), completely satisfied with what you see. It puts a little pep in your step and you feel so much more confident walking out the door with your head held a little higher than normal to take on whatever comes at you that day. Those are some of my favorite days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;|&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;if being pretty is a crime, i should be in prison&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;|&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/715725385203501979-2893261207216164209?l=toniwitkofski.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/feeds/2893261207216164209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2009/04/pretty-days.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/2893261207216164209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/715725385203501979/posts/default/2893261207216164209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://toniwitkofski.blogspot.com/2009/04/pretty-days.html' title='[Pretty Days]'/><author><name>Toni Witkofski</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00347913159534143554</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uME0dh6fhws/TG18NtO_o5I/AAAAAAAAAD8/cn5ktrVKvQc/S220/blink.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
