<?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-4029824469917777922</id><updated>2011-07-30T08:47:34.051-07:00</updated><category term='reminder'/><category term='dreams'/><category term='when it all sucks'/><category term='first-resort'/><title type='text'>notable quotes</title><subtitle type='html'>"The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become."-- &lt;i&gt;Charles DuBois&lt;/i&gt;</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05484944135396220415</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izAhnjIvMU8/SUn_KqSfhjI/AAAAAAAAAAk/2RDzPU9OZDs/S220/tribble.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>14</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029824469917777922.post-6070121237134837424</id><published>2010-01-24T06:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-24T06:57:24.418-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='first-resort'/><title type='text'>The First-Resort: An Organization for Independent Queer Youth</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Our dreams have once again shape-shifted and evolved.  I could say that I get tired of our plans that roll in and out like clouds, but I don't.  I wont get tired until I stop dreaming, until I stop preparing for this better life.  This is who I am, this is who we are.  It's in my blood, it's all in my head, it's in the air that I breathe.  I like who I am when I have these goals.  Absolutely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In October, we went to the National Equality March, and right there in front of the US Capital, amidst over two-hundred-thousand people, this image in my head that had been blurry for so so long, became clear.  I finally got to pin-point what career I will seek for myself.  That career that you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;fit&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;into.  The job that has nothing at all to do with the money it offers, or the ego that comes with the title.  I just want to do this, to wake up and to belong in it, to say "this is who I am, this is what I've done" and never wonder what the hell happened to me and to my life.  This will be my anchor to the west coast, my life's passion, the most beautiful thing that Ruth &amp;amp; I can create together. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is so amazing.  I will update more information as things start to progress even more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.first-resort.org"&gt;www.first-resort.org&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&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/4029824469917777922-6070121237134837424?l=sarahlutner.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/feeds/6070121237134837424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2010/01/first-resort-organization-for.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/6070121237134837424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/6070121237134837424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2010/01/first-resort-organization-for.html' title='The First-Resort: An Organization for Independent Queer Youth'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05484944135396220415</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izAhnjIvMU8/SUn_KqSfhjI/AAAAAAAAAAk/2RDzPU9OZDs/S220/tribble.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029824469917777922.post-7444836967249799286</id><published>2009-09-12T13:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T13:39:55.157-07:00</updated><title type='text'>beating on the big people, in a big hard world</title><content type='html'>I get this feeling that I am depended on to be a fixture in someone's life.  It makes me uneasy, because I haven't signed any contracts here, I'm only married to one person, which means, I've only made a promise to one single person. &lt;br /&gt;I think what it is, is that for some reason, I don't feel appreciated.  Maybe I'm more like Ruth than I thought, and we both just can't be actually close with anyone without feeling the pressure.  I love my friendship with Stephanie, because I can get on the phone, or in a room and tell her anything, just everything, with no problem, no backlash.  But, there are closer people in my life(as in distance) whom I keep a lot from, but I feel more responsibility toward. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The funny thing is this:  I am not just the person we've all thought I was..  I am about to be born again, into the life I want.  It's strange that when we left before, I felt a pull, a sad feeling of abandonment, giving-up, running away.  Now, I feel one thing: relief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give me that relief, let me soak it up.  All of the sudden, we have family, love and hope all over this country, we don't need to be here. &lt;br /&gt;We need to be there, and in 3 weeks, we will be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4029824469917777922-7444836967249799286?l=sarahlutner.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/feeds/7444836967249799286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/09/beating-on-big-people-in-big-hard-world.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/7444836967249799286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/7444836967249799286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/09/beating-on-big-people-in-big-hard-world.html' title='beating on the big people, in a big hard world'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05484944135396220415</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izAhnjIvMU8/SUn_KqSfhjI/AAAAAAAAAAk/2RDzPU9OZDs/S220/tribble.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029824469917777922.post-1738317809220976391</id><published>2009-08-12T15:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-12T16:02:53.484-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I'm really hoping that something that we have planned works, and will make it so we leave sooner than expected.   Unfortunately we arent going to be getting a refund for our tickets, which is a bummer.  But, we should have about $4,000 to put toward a subaru outback, which maybe we can get away with buying a nice one for a bit less than that, and we can buy some stuff with the rest.  I'll know which way is up, tomorrow. &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/4029824469917777922-1738317809220976391?l=sarahlutner.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/feeds/1738317809220976391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/08/im-really-hoping-that-something-that-we.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/1738317809220976391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/1738317809220976391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/08/im-really-hoping-that-something-that-we.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05484944135396220415</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izAhnjIvMU8/SUn_KqSfhjI/AAAAAAAAAAk/2RDzPU9OZDs/S220/tribble.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029824469917777922.post-8170284539582680426</id><published>2009-07-16T09:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T05:46:30.939-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;font size="1"&gt;Our wedding isn't around the corner anymore.  The date is staring us in the face.  I'm getting married the day after tomorrow.  Saturday.  Ruth's best friend Dayna will be here tonight.  She was supposed to be here at 3pm, but she got a late start, which will mean she wont be here until  around 9pm.   That's fine with me, it means that I'll have more time to clean and put stuff together.  We have SO much to do tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe that we have so many great friends who are doing these favors for us.  Amy--my friend from high school, is a professional cake decorator.  She's building us a $500 cake!  Leighta--Ruth's co-worker who we've spent some time with, is doing photography.  Aaron--Ruth's old co-worker, is playing acoustic guitar, and specifically learned "Stand by Me" and will be playing it during the ceremony.  Steph &amp;amp; Dean-- my bestest friend and her boyfriend(that I introduced her to) are flying from Seattle! &lt;br /&gt;We couldn't ask for better, really.  I guess it's not quanitity, it's quality, and we certainly got that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so excited about everything, but I definitely feel ready for it to all be over, too!  I'm nervous about Hawaii, like, really nervous.  I'm not particularly nervous about getting married, because I know I want to be with Ruth forever.  We will be together whether we have the paper, but we want the paper for safety.   Someday, it's going to mean something to our kids, too.   For their parents to be married.  They'll want that stability.  Plus, the party should be a lot of fun! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4029824469917777922-8170284539582680426?l=sarahlutner.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/feeds/8170284539582680426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/07/our-wedding-isnt-around-corner-anymore.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/8170284539582680426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/8170284539582680426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/07/our-wedding-isnt-around-corner-anymore.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05484944135396220415</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izAhnjIvMU8/SUn_KqSfhjI/AAAAAAAAAAk/2RDzPU9OZDs/S220/tribble.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029824469917777922.post-3106734790567035970</id><published>2009-04-15T02:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T02:30:34.060-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I stay up pretty late, lately.  My eyes feel heavy, but I'm preoccupied. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's weird when you're alone, but not.  When everyone listens with one ear. &lt;br /&gt;What do I expect, really?  That question is not one where I already know the answer.  It wasn't sarcasm.  I really wonder, what do I expect?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4029824469917777922-3106734790567035970?l=sarahlutner.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/feeds/3106734790567035970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-stay-up-pretty-late-lately.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/3106734790567035970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/3106734790567035970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-stay-up-pretty-late-lately.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05484944135396220415</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izAhnjIvMU8/SUn_KqSfhjI/AAAAAAAAAAk/2RDzPU9OZDs/S220/tribble.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029824469917777922.post-5611519586553602450</id><published>2009-04-08T00:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T01:04:01.145-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;my lovely Ruth has tomorrow off of work.  We're going to sleep in late, and maybe I'll make pancakes for us when we do wake up.   After Luke gets out of work, he's going to swing by and pick me up, then we're going to Roseland and we're going to bowl.  After that, I'd like to buy a couple of 40's and drink my face off.  It's just definitely been one of those weeks.  Friends, family and planning have taken their toll on me, mentally and physically.  I'd like to think things will start getting better, though.  knock on wood.&lt;br /&gt;Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a couple of girls in my bed who need some attention.  (one of them is an 18 month old pug). &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/4029824469917777922-5611519586553602450?l=sarahlutner.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/feeds/5611519586553602450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-lovely-ruth-has-tomorrow-off-of-work.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/5611519586553602450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/5611519586553602450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-lovely-ruth-has-tomorrow-off-of-work.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05484944135396220415</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izAhnjIvMU8/SUn_KqSfhjI/AAAAAAAAAAk/2RDzPU9OZDs/S220/tribble.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029824469917777922.post-4581730445022528287</id><published>2009-04-05T23:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T05:48:36.035-07:00</updated><title type='text'>like a bird without a song</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;We've decided on the 18th of July for our wedding.  It's pretty perfect as far as timing.  Enough time to prepare, and a month from our move date.  I didn't want to get rushed toward the end of our time here.  We're gonna have so much to do anyway, that I just can't crowd all of that stuff into a couple of weeks.  We're done with the Rosie stuff for now.  Everything is checked off, which is awesome.  Now it's just waiting time, and then about 6 weeks before we leave, we're going to send out Rosie's info to the Quarentine station, and get that show on the road.  In the mean time, we have to get:&lt;br /&gt;-2 hiking back packs&lt;br /&gt;-2 crates (one hard, one soft sided)&lt;br /&gt;-Durable clothing(jeans, shirts, socks, shoes, gloves)&lt;br /&gt;-in shape&lt;br /&gt;-Rosie prepared for the climate change&lt;br /&gt;-Talking with the farmers.  We want to have a place to stay lined up.&lt;br /&gt;-some money.&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/4029824469917777922-4581730445022528287?l=sarahlutner.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/feeds/4581730445022528287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/04/like-bird-without-song.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/4581730445022528287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/4581730445022528287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/04/like-bird-without-song.html' title='like a bird without a song'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05484944135396220415</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izAhnjIvMU8/SUn_KqSfhjI/AAAAAAAAAAk/2RDzPU9OZDs/S220/tribble.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029824469917777922.post-3215618496696947467</id><published>2009-04-02T00:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T00:25:22.612-07:00</updated><title type='text'>August 31st, 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;We will set off on our journey. &lt;br /&gt;Being happy is not about luck, it's about perseverance.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4029824469917777922-3215618496696947467?l=sarahlutner.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/feeds/3215618496696947467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/04/august-31st-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/3215618496696947467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/3215618496696947467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/04/august-31st-2009.html' title='August 31st, 2009'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05484944135396220415</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izAhnjIvMU8/SUn_KqSfhjI/AAAAAAAAAAk/2RDzPU9OZDs/S220/tribble.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029824469917777922.post-270234219937011828</id><published>2009-03-31T20:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T21:09:52.700-07:00</updated><title type='text'>one wing wasn't even enough, wasn't even enough to leave</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; I see that I am not the most educated person when it comes to schooling, and diplomas.  I understand that I am young and just dipping my feet into the waters of life.  But, the hidden disrespect, the undertones of the song people sing, the song that vibrates through them, I can still decipher it.  I can read most people like a book.  The only time I'm ever blinded is when someone is very clever, or my feelings get in the way.  Other than that, I'm usually dead fucking on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Sometimes, I get so disappointed with the people in my life, it's overwhelming.  My disgust with people that I surround myself with becomes my song, my vibration, and it hums out of me.  It's a normal conversation, and both people are hot inside, tense, and withholding.  It's short, sharp sentences that keeps you from saying what you really mean.  It's only spending time with someone because it's the right thing to do.  Sometimes friendship is an arranged marriage.  You are grown, an adult, and yet you do not make the decisions that you want.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;It makes me sick to hear people say "yeah, well maybe next time".   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is fair.  If you live your life by your own rules, then life can be everything you imagined it to be when you were young and naive.  There will be heartache, and devastation, and set backs, and immense pain, so severe you will want to give up, lay with your head against the floor for days at a time.  But at least when you feel happiness, you will appreciate every piece of it.  You will be able to describe simple things in beautiful terms, and completely mean them.  When you let your soul out, when you wrap yourself in faith and confidence in yourself, you will be strong, and proud and happy in a way that people think they can buy in a vacation.&lt;br /&gt;I am paradise.  My life is paradise, and where ever I choose to live, it will be paradise.  My life is beautiful and I don't regret anything.  Someday in the future, we either will or wont know each other, and I hope that whatever happens, we both know why.&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/4029824469917777922-270234219937011828?l=sarahlutner.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/feeds/270234219937011828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/03/one-wing-wasnt-even-enough-wasnt-even.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/270234219937011828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/270234219937011828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/03/one-wing-wasnt-even-enough-wasnt-even.html' title='one wing wasn&apos;t even enough, wasn&apos;t even enough to leave'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05484944135396220415</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izAhnjIvMU8/SUn_KqSfhjI/AAAAAAAAAAk/2RDzPU9OZDs/S220/tribble.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029824469917777922.post-1298758256438082490</id><published>2009-03-20T19:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T00:30:38.282-07:00</updated><title type='text'>different situation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;You might think that our plans might have faded within the last three months.  Ya know that part in Charlie &amp;amp; the Chocolate Factory, at the end, when they're in the glass elevator, and it's quiet.  They start taking off and then the screen switches to the glass roof, silence, suspense.  Are they going to break through, or are they going to get ripped to shreds?  That's what the last three months have been like.  Quiet, planning, preparation.  We have one goal: Hawaii. &lt;br /&gt;In a week, we're going to be buying our plane tickets.  After that, it's just a count down.  &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/4029824469917777922-1298758256438082490?l=sarahlutner.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/feeds/1298758256438082490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/03/different-situation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/1298758256438082490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/1298758256438082490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/03/different-situation.html' title='different situation'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05484944135396220415</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izAhnjIvMU8/SUn_KqSfhjI/AAAAAAAAAAk/2RDzPU9OZDs/S220/tribble.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029824469917777922.post-209457245835297624</id><published>2009-03-04T21:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T08:57:44.651-07:00</updated><title type='text'>too long</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Sorry it's been so long since my last update.  In that time, we have moved from Canandaigua, to Victor.   We're back at my families farm.  We're really enjoying it, pretty satisfied with the way things are right now.  Having no obligations makes it easy to really see your goals, and gives you time to put things in order, get objects off of your path so that you can finally reach those goals.  Liz wants to go with us Wwoofing.  She'll be here Friday and we will talk about things for the week that she's here, and we'll figure it out.  It's going to be a bit complicated, because Liz has some issues with control, and making sure that everything is okay.  She's not controlling, she's more OCD about things.  She's not Lynette, she's more of a Bree.&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of teevee shows, I am really into watching Lost this season.  I try pretty hard not to miss it when it comes on Wednesday nights, even though I know that I can watch it the next day on ABC.  I'm also getting back in to cooking, which I'm happy about.  Cooking makes me feel good, makes me feel more like me, and more connected to.. stuff. the world, my life, just inside. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ruth wants to play Shopping Cart Hero, now, so I will let her.  I wont go so long without updating next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy times!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4029824469917777922-209457245835297624?l=sarahlutner.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/feeds/209457245835297624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/03/too-long.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/209457245835297624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/209457245835297624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/03/too-long.html' title='too long'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05484944135396220415</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izAhnjIvMU8/SUn_KqSfhjI/AAAAAAAAAAk/2RDzPU9OZDs/S220/tribble.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029824469917777922.post-6447000090299960522</id><published>2009-01-02T07:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T13:08:05.575-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px;"&gt;Lately, there has been a lot of time to think.  Coincidentally, there has also been a lot ot think about.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px;"&gt;I am &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;beaten&lt;/span&gt; by  money.   I am not the same person when it comes to money.  Whether I have too much, or too little.  Either way, I just &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hate&lt;/span&gt; it.  I really fucking hate this game that is played.  The idea of working so fucking hard everyday, never seeing the light of day,  until you barely exist at all;  and then  all of the sudden they can completely pull the rug out from under you.    You wake up alone, and scared, because you know what happens when you fail at this life.  When you have no plan b.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px;"&gt;Well, thankfully, this was my plan B.  Now it's on for the real thing.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4029824469917777922-6447000090299960522?l=sarahlutner.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/feeds/6447000090299960522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/01/lately-there-has-been-lot-of-time-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/6447000090299960522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/6447000090299960522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/01/lately-there-has-been-lot-of-time-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05484944135396220415</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izAhnjIvMU8/SUn_KqSfhjI/AAAAAAAAAAk/2RDzPU9OZDs/S220/tribble.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029824469917777922.post-7923544190751587879</id><published>2009-01-01T21:50:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T08:59:04.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>notable resolution</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 51, 153);font-family:Arial;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Lately, I have nad nothing but thought.  Think think think.  When, where, how.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;table   style="margin-top: 5px;font-family:Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;" width="100%" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2"&gt;&lt;p style="padding-top: 3px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"  &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"There are those of us who are always about to live.  We are waiting until things change, until there is more time, until we are less tired, until we get a promotion, until we settle down.. Until, until, until.. It always seems as if there is some major event that must occur in our lives before we begin living."&lt;/span&gt; ~&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;George Sheehan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&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/4029824469917777922-7923544190751587879?l=sarahlutner.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/feeds/7923544190751587879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/01/notable-resolution.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/7923544190751587879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/7923544190751587879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2009/01/notable-resolution.html' title='notable resolution'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05484944135396220415</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izAhnjIvMU8/SUn_KqSfhjI/AAAAAAAAAAk/2RDzPU9OZDs/S220/tribble.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029824469917777922.post-5607705541378114675</id><published>2008-12-27T21:17:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T21:23:54.608-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='when it all sucks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reminder'/><title type='text'>the real kind</title><content type='html'>I know that sometime after we leave our apartment, there's going to be a night with great weather, where we'll think to ourselves that we wish we were walking into our own place again.  I just want to remember, or remind myself when this happens, that we're at my parents house for a reason.  We have bigger plans than this life.  That we are &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;not&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; satisfied here, and we have to make sacrifices in order to get to our idea of happy in life.  This is not it.&lt;br /&gt;So, please, don't get down about the current situation.  When things are bad, or annoying, go sit on the couch, listen to some music, and dream.  When things seem unbearable, talk to Ruth, or just hug her, she understands.  And when those feelings of worthlessness and desperation occur, look at her, and look at Rosie, and know that soon you will be watching them play in the sand somewhere, running and falling and laughing... And I promise, it will all be worth it. &lt;br /&gt;Life will happen for us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4029824469917777922-5607705541378114675?l=sarahlutner.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/feeds/5607705541378114675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2008/12/real-kind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/5607705541378114675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4029824469917777922/posts/default/5607705541378114675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarahlutner.blogspot.com/2008/12/real-kind.html' title='the real kind'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05484944135396220415</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_izAhnjIvMU8/SUn_KqSfhjI/AAAAAAAAAAk/2RDzPU9OZDs/S220/tribble.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
