<?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-4720550113849071670</id><updated>2012-02-16T12:46:00.071-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Raindrops On My Roses</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>camiger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08894118962841511065</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tQSiDGkCYJw/Sd1gcDq9nkI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uvp35puoZoI/s1600-R/2651_139124900054_614485054_6162044_6869449_n.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-4720550113849071670.post-7167494357830766146</id><published>2009-08-03T00:59:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T00:59:49.560-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Anti-religion and how I’m going to hell. Apparently.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;So,&amp;#160; a lot of people ask me, in real life, what my religion is.&amp;#160; When I say that I am anti-religious, they go, so you are an atheist then, when actually I am not.&amp;#160; To be an non-theist atheist, is to BELIEVE that there is not a god, and that your beliefs are better than all others, etc. etc.&amp;#160; To be a theist atheist, is to BELIEVE that there is something, just not the run of the mill god(s/ess/esses), and that once again all other religions have it wrong.&amp;#160; Me, I don’t believe anything. I don’t think that the world should be concerned with all this existence of a god, or whether or not we’re right and everyone else is wrong.&amp;#160; That’s just wrong.&amp;#160; As far as I see it, people can believe whatever they want, I don’t care.&amp;#160; However, the moment they start shoving their faith on me, I get snotty.&amp;#160; It’s just the hypocrisy of believing in something, and I’m about to pick on Christianity because it’s easy, like for example the Bible, and then going out and eating red meat on whatever day of the week it says you can’t, or having sex with your S.O. with a condom, or sex outside of wedlock (A little off topic, but trust me I’m a firm believer in safe sex, no pun intended, so wrap it up).&amp;#160; You can’t just pick and choose.&amp;#160; That would be like picking up a math text and going, oh I’ll believe in the addition, but not subtraction.&amp;#160; There is no mid ground for math and there is none for religion.&amp;#160; It’s just not something you can do.&amp;#160; So if you want to believe in your religion, go right ahead, but at least if you are going to follow a religion, take it all, and keep it to yourself.&amp;#160; I don’t care how much Jesus loves you, or&amp;#160; if Zeus is going to smite me, I’m still not going to believe in your religion, so keep it on your own time, and that goes for you too atheists and agnostics.&amp;#160; You may not have a god, but you still have a religion,&amp;#160; whether you like it or not.&amp;#160; Anyways, that is enough ranting about religion, and my lack of it.&amp;#160; I should be off to bed now.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;ATB,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Ron&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4720550113849071670-7167494357830766146?l=romr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/feeds/7167494357830766146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4720550113849071670&amp;postID=7167494357830766146' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/7167494357830766146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/7167494357830766146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/2009/08/anti-religion-and-how-im-going-to-hell.html' title='Anti-religion and how I’m going to hell. Apparently.'/><author><name>camiger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08894118962841511065</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tQSiDGkCYJw/Sd1gcDq9nkI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uvp35puoZoI/s1600-R/2651_139124900054_614485054_6162044_6869449_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4720550113849071670.post-1591526759463429923</id><published>2009-07-07T01:41:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T01:41:20.068-03:00</updated><title type='text'>This place feels like home</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;So. I am now a world experienced traveler.&amp;#160; Well, at least, I’ve visited a large city; that city would be Toronto of course.&amp;#160; I was there for about 10 days, to take in the pride festivities and have a nice little vacation.&amp;#160; I never knew that one place could hold so many hot men in so little clothing.&amp;#160; Everywhere I went, there seemed to be hot guys and girls handing out product dressed in little more than the most revealing of underwear.&amp;#160; Sex sells.&amp;#160; I definitely am a bigger fan of TD now at least.&amp;#160; I also received a card with the condoms that were being handed out by Trojan, and the name on the card read:&amp;#160; “Hugh Johnson, Condom Test.”&amp;#160; Yes, that is correct, it was one of those Magnum condoms and was it ever weirdly shaped.&amp;#160; It reminded me of a tampon the way it was shaped, all flared at one end and thinner towards the base.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Also, I attended an underwear fashion show, and it was the most gorgeous men wearing the most adorable underwear.&amp;#160; I even got some perfume made by Hugo Boss, called Element.&amp;#160; I love it, and it is now definitely part of my scent.&amp;#160; Another neat thing about Toronto is that there is now a fee for plastic bags.&amp;#160; All stores are forced to charge 5 cents per bag, and some can charge even more if they so please.&amp;#160; It was slightly annoying because I had to carry my fag bag everywhere to hold all my purchases, and had to make regular trips home to unload.&amp;#160; However, the obvious benefits to the environment and the streets of Toronto are obvious, because everyone is forced to use the reusable bags.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;One of the more annoying points about my trip to Toronto was the strike, where all the city workers went on strike, leaving Toronto without street crews, garbage men, and no maintenance.&amp;#160; This was extremely annoying because the streets come the Sunday before I was due to leave were packed with litter, and all the garbage cans were overflowing, creating a stench on some of the streets.&amp;#160; Even now the strike continues, and Torontonians are paying for it.&amp;#160; It was to the point where even the TTC stairs were starting to get grimy because of the lack of above ground cleaning.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The Toronto Transit Commission, or the TTC as everyone calls it, is the conglomerate of the subways, buses, and street cars, all servicing the Toronto area.&amp;#160; It was such a rush, to be able to pay $32.25 and travel for a week on the amazing system.&amp;#160; I literally travelled over 800km during my stay on the TTC and look forward to when I live there and will be able to take it every day. It definitely is such a good system that I never even considered taking a car or taxi during my entire stay, as it was cheaper and faster to hop on the subway and head to Union or Museum, or even Bloor Station, and go explore.&amp;#160; I was able to experience the city the way everyone living in Toronto does each day, and enjoy every minute.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I will definitely post more on Toronto tomorrow, but right now I need some sleep!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;ATB,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Ron&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4720550113849071670-1591526759463429923?l=romr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/feeds/1591526759463429923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4720550113849071670&amp;postID=1591526759463429923' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/1591526759463429923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/1591526759463429923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/2009/07/this-place-feels-like-home.html' title='This place feels like home'/><author><name>camiger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08894118962841511065</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tQSiDGkCYJw/Sd1gcDq9nkI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uvp35puoZoI/s1600-R/2651_139124900054_614485054_6162044_6869449_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4720550113849071670.post-4655865157869199642</id><published>2009-07-07T01:20:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T01:21:03.214-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Test</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;This is a test of my new blog writer.&amp;#160; Hopefully it works!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Update! &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;It did obviously!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4720550113849071670-4655865157869199642?l=romr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/feeds/4655865157869199642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4720550113849071670&amp;postID=4655865157869199642' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/4655865157869199642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/4655865157869199642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/2009/07/test.html' title='Test'/><author><name>camiger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08894118962841511065</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tQSiDGkCYJw/Sd1gcDq9nkI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uvp35puoZoI/s1600-R/2651_139124900054_614485054_6162044_6869449_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4720550113849071670.post-2662104843870063588</id><published>2009-04-23T00:09:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T00:32:23.103-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Part of your world</title><content type='html'>So, lately, I've been doing a lot of thinking, and a lot of thought about who I am, and I realized, I'm a really boring person.  I go to school, if I feel like it, and then come home, watch some T.V. with either my niece or by myself, and then go to work.  Once I'm done work I come home and go to bed.  That said, on my days off, I sit around home, same with the days where I don't go to school.  On the weekends, I spend them either working, or at moms house, wishing that I could be there for more than 24 hours so I have the time to do some cleaning.  This, I mean, sure is good and fun, but I just feel so, I guess, lonely. &lt;br /&gt;Last night, I decided that I would log onto the GYC.  I know, it's a sketchy chat room, but I wanted to talk to someone and just not be so lonely.  I mean, I have like 40 some odd friends, but I always feel like I just don't fit in.  It's like, when you are building a puzzle, you have that one piece, that almost fits, but there is always another peice that just fits better in relation to the whole picture.  I know, I know, but every peice has to fit somewheres in the puzzle, but I just feel like maybe, I don't even belong to that puzzle, that maybe I'm a whole different puzzle all on my own.&lt;br /&gt;Back to the GYC now.  I logged on and I realized that the crowd I used to chat with no longer existed, because I didn't recognize a single screenname.  All the people that I used to know on their don't exist anymore.  Now I know about 65% of the people I used to know on there were pedophiles, but still, it always felt like even if they were just talking to me to hit on me, at least they wanted to pay attention to me.  And this all ties back into to how I feel like I'm so alone, because all the old friends I used to have, like Justin and Chelsey, and Britney, just don't seem to want to talk to me aside from saying hi in the hallways.  Also, I never get invited places anymore.  It just bothers me that I used to have such a social life, and was the bee's knees, and so many people wanted to hang out with me and chill and it's just like wham.  Not anymore.&lt;br /&gt;Some of this I do realize may be my own fault.  When I started dating Andrew, my friends just stopped talking to me as much, and maybe it was because I wasn't making such an active effort on my half, and if it was then I feel like a douche because i hate how all the people I know have fallen away from me, and I imagine they must feel the same about not talking to me.  I don't know.   Maybe they don't even care.  I guess, I made my bed and now I have to sleep in it.  I wish I didn't however.&lt;br /&gt;Now that Andrew and I are over, it seems like my life is almost four times as boring as it was.  At least I could look forward to talking to him, and seeing him, but now on weekends, I sit at home, or at some meeting for some group where the people there don't even want to talk to me and then go to work where the people there talk to me only because there's no one else to talk to and I just feel like I don't belong in the world, if men are from mars and women are from venus, then I'm just stuck out here, chilling on pluto. &lt;br /&gt;I guess that's enough of me whinging about how shitty my life is and blah blah blah, I mean my life may not be anyworse than a lot of peoples but I hate it.  I get grades that I feel like I don't control because the teachers judge me because i don't want to attend their shit school, and I have no life, I work to get yelled at and stepped on, and I live in an apt where I sleep on the couch or on my bed in the living room only if the cat hasn't pissed on it, and I'm just tired of doing this day in day out, because i never accomplish anything.  I just want to be important enough to somebody that they actually care if I haven't talked to them in two days, and will tell me it's alright.  But they don't.  So who cares?&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I'm off to bed I've got two more days of teachers yelling at me to attend before I get a break for a day or two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ron.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4720550113849071670-2662104843870063588?l=romr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/feeds/2662104843870063588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4720550113849071670&amp;postID=2662104843870063588' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/2662104843870063588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/2662104843870063588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/2009/04/part-of-your-world.html' title='Part of your world'/><author><name>camiger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08894118962841511065</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tQSiDGkCYJw/Sd1gcDq9nkI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uvp35puoZoI/s1600-R/2651_139124900054_614485054_6162044_6869449_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4720550113849071670.post-4490758191537773697</id><published>2009-04-08T23:42:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T23:51:30.468-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Three monthes and counting.</title><content type='html'>So Andrew, I told you to check out my blog and here is what I have for you.  I wrote you a poem that I thought you might like, and posted it here, so you would be all curious as to why I told you to check out my blog. So here goes.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Numbers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They mean time &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They mean space&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They fill your head&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Make the world confusing&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Until you break it down to two numbers&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Two.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It means us&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It means a couple&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It tells us we match.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Makes us a pair of two people&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Until you think of all those numbers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It means you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It means someone&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is solitary and alone&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A person you can only love&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Until the end of all those numbers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Three.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It means more&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It means months&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is a larger number&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A number so big it owns you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Until it fills you with that number.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Four.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It means a third&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It means the future&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A number so far yet so close&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Until May where it's a lucky number&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope you liked it.  Happy three months, I can't wait to see you tonight, you are the cutest boy I've ever know, and I hope you know that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ron.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4720550113849071670-4490758191537773697?l=romr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/feeds/4490758191537773697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4720550113849071670&amp;postID=4490758191537773697' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/4490758191537773697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/4490758191537773697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/2009/04/three-monthes-and-counting.html' title='Three monthes and counting.'/><author><name>camiger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08894118962841511065</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tQSiDGkCYJw/Sd1gcDq9nkI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uvp35puoZoI/s1600-R/2651_139124900054_614485054_6162044_6869449_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4720550113849071670.post-6821805767138050898</id><published>2009-04-06T00:43:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T01:03:30.449-03:00</updated><title type='text'>The doctor.</title><content type='html'>So, I have been watching a lot of Dr. Who lately.  I know, I usually never write a post that relates to my titles, and the title usually shows how I'm feeling currently, but I thought that I should mix it up.  I just got back from helping a friend at her work, and I made a donair while I was there.  Also, I while I was there we brought up the topic of anti-humor.  Anti-humor is jokes that obviously are just reality.  For example:&lt;div&gt;A chicken started crossing the road. Upon crossing the leftbound lane, the chicken was promptly hit by a truck carrying eggs, how ironic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or they can be as simple as this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What do you call a black man who flies a plane?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A pilot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Obviously, I think they are hilarious, but I'm biased, so let me know what you think.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On an unrelated note, Andrew let me borrow his MacBook and Nikon D40 for the next four days.   The MacBook I've had since last Sunday, and the Nikon he lent me today.  It's a lovely camera, and I took a picture today of a heart I made for Andrew out of my scarves.  I love the camera, I plan to go take some photos tomorrow, and I'll post them up on photobucket and promptly write a post about it.  I'll get some shots of the plants and wildlife that there is on PEI at this time of year.  I'll especially make sure to take some photos of the willows.  I love his camera, it's such a beautiful device.  Google it and you'll see.  Well, I can't wait to get a bike to get to work, it will make the journey so much easier.  Right now, it's over 45 minutes to walk to work, and if I get a bike, it will cut it back to 20, or less.  I really hope I find a good on on Thursday.  I just don't know where I am going to put it, prolly inside the door to my apartment.  Anyways, I'll deal with that when I find a bike.  I should be off to bed soon, just as soon as I finish this episode of Dr. Who.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ATB,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ron&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4720550113849071670-6821805767138050898?l=romr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/feeds/6821805767138050898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4720550113849071670&amp;postID=6821805767138050898' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/6821805767138050898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/6821805767138050898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/2009/04/doctor.html' title='The doctor.'/><author><name>camiger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08894118962841511065</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tQSiDGkCYJw/Sd1gcDq9nkI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uvp35puoZoI/s1600-R/2651_139124900054_614485054_6162044_6869449_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4720550113849071670.post-1494835527010560334</id><published>2009-02-23T11:16:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T12:12:23.423-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hugs, and things happy</title><content type='html'>Sarah,  you are too silly and here is your post as requested.&lt;br /&gt;______________________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have been watching this new show called Skins.  Of course, it's British, and awesome.  It's about the life of these kids in some town in England, and everything that goes on.  There's a lot of cursing, and a lot of naked people.  The odd thing is, this is like the British version of the OC.  There's a boy who is in love with his teacher, a couple who is off and on faster than a light switch, the gay boy, a random constantly drugged up boy, and their friends.  Tony and Michelle, the couple, are both stunningly gorgeous, and Tony, while constantly being a douche, can be nice.  The gay boy, Max, is gorgeous, and in a lot of the episodes, you just want to give him a hug and tell him it will be alright, especially when Anwar, one of his friends, tells him it's not okay that he is gay, and he gets really depressed, and mopey, and I just want to give him a hug.  I would go on about more, but I don't want to ruin it for anyone who may or may not feel inclined to watch it. &lt;br /&gt;On an unrelated note, I wish I could draw.  To be able to draw would be such a fantastic skill to have, and I would draw all the time if I could.  Maybe drawing is just one of those things that you start out terrible, and just have to draw day in, day out, and eventually you get good at it.  Maybe I should just start drawing, and one day, maybe, I'll be good at it.  Who knows, being as art is quite objective, would it really make a difference if I was good at it?&lt;br /&gt;Today was a great day.  We had a snow day, and so Jaedyn and I made a cake.  It's a lemon pound cake, and it tastes great, we both enjoyed it.  Otherwise, I had a great day.  I got to watch some telly, and to have a good long sleep.&lt;br /&gt;ATB,&lt;br /&gt;Ron&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4720550113849071670-1494835527010560334?l=romr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/feeds/1494835527010560334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4720550113849071670&amp;postID=1494835527010560334' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/1494835527010560334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/1494835527010560334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/2009/02/hugs-and-things-happy.html' title='Hugs, and things happy'/><author><name>camiger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08894118962841511065</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tQSiDGkCYJw/Sd1gcDq9nkI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uvp35puoZoI/s1600-R/2651_139124900054_614485054_6162044_6869449_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4720550113849071670.post-1808316963840359536</id><published>2009-01-20T23:48:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T00:21:21.807-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sine, Cosine, Tangent.</title><content type='html'>So anyone who knows me, probably knows how badly i have mood swings.  Much like a sine graph.  You know, the ones that they make you draw on the graphing calculator, only more pointy, and random.  So when I post, I try to keep it all level, and not too depressing and not too off the walls happy.  I mean, sure, thats how I feel, but it would hurt my brain going through all these posts and seeing one thing, and then like the exact opposite, and be like arghhh.  I know i get awful depressed sometimes, but I see it as being my own problem, and not something the world should have to put up with.  This all goes back to my whole mantra, that I've been taught from day one, that is "What would other people think?".  Seriously, I mean, if I started being Mr. Debbie Downer all day at school, and not my usual chipper self, a lot of people would be concerned(this is just me speculating), or at least I hope they would.  And that is what keeps me going, because I was taught to be ashamed of anything wrong in your life, and if anybody asks, your life is nothing but spectacular, and this all ties into relativity.  I mean, I live with my sister part time so I can attend a different school, and it's fun, and fantastic, but stressful.   I have to pay rent, and recently have been unemployed, and that is no fun.  I mean, you pretty much stress over anything, and it really does suck when two dollars is a large chunk of cash.  Like, it's to the point where my catch phrase has gone from, that's unfortunate, to i'm too poor.  And it just surprises me how much I've changed in the past year, how much I've gone from being as I see it, carefree, and able to spend that two dollars, to stressed to the max all the time and worried.  Sure, I'm well aware that it was my choice to change schools, and I wouldn't give that up ever, but it just surprises me how much a little bit of responsability changes your entire life, in one foul swoop.   That all said, I like my life.  Sure it's hard, and most certainly, troublesome ( I can be rather mouthy), but it's fun.  I experience things people would never see from any other angle.  I know life skills, and for that, it makes it all worth it, because I'm worrying about these things now, and when I get to university, I'll be able to balance a check book, and to plan a budget, and to set up a savings fund, and to shop for food, and to make my own home, my home.  And Sarah, if you still read my blog, I really did mean it when I said you deserve the world.  A person as nice as you shouldn't ever be hurt.&lt;br /&gt;ATB,&lt;br /&gt;Ron&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4720550113849071670-1808316963840359536?l=romr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/feeds/1808316963840359536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4720550113849071670&amp;postID=1808316963840359536' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/1808316963840359536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/1808316963840359536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/2009/01/sine-cosine-tangent.html' title='Sine, Cosine, Tangent.'/><author><name>camnor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_NQuqrsdLKaE/R8uSbzSI5jI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vD8UTwOnNtw/S220/mee.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4720550113849071670.post-8765654901714456480</id><published>2009-01-06T03:26:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T03:45:52.454-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I won the game</title><content type='html'>So hey,&lt;br /&gt;Everyone knows "the game".  You know, the one where you loose if you think about it?  Well that's how I feel about trying not to think about Blake.  I mean, he was never mean to me till we broke up.  Everyday he was super nice, super kind, and perfect.  Till mid November, when he told me he wanted to be with other guys.  And I was heartbroken.  If I had of known that on that day, he was going to tell me that he didn't want to see me anymore, I would have done anything to keep him.  I would have.  And I feel guilty posting this, because when I restarted this blog, I promised myself, no more break up stories, no more ooh boo hoo poor me this boy left me, but Blake is just one person I wish I could hate, so it would at least replace the pain.  I don't know how to deal with this, I mean I'm so used to being dropped, but never was I so desperate to have someone back, to have them here, beside me.  I would give my left half of my body to be with Blake right now, but I know he doesn't feel the same.  so I guess I wait till the pain goes away.  It's been two months since that day in November.  Two long, cold, hard months.  And I never knew it could hurt this much, but even if I did know that Blake and I were going to end it so soon, even the night that we went on our first date, I would have still dated him.  I would have still done it.  And all I want is closure, and I don't know where I am going to find that.  Maybe in becoming his friend, maybe in never talking to him again, maybe by moving to a different province or country.  Maybe that is what it will take, because I walk down the streets here, and I remember all the times we spent together.  I see a black or pale blue car, and hope it's him.  I see the university, and think of him, of the day I went to go leave him a love letter in his car, a week before we broke up.  I remember the plans we made, to go places, do things, see the world, and how they are never going to happen.  It just makes me sad, to think of that could have been, and all that never will be.  Today in class, our teacher asked us if we believe in fate, and I said I didn't.  Sure, we get the illusion of fate, with cause and effect, but there are too many different choices one can make in a minute, or an hour, or a day, and that's just for one person.  To have all people, making infinite choices every instant, would be impossible.  It's too chaotic to be preordained.  But I do believe in personal choices, and that is what makes cause and effect happen, which gives us an illusion that there is fate.  Too believe that you are destined to do what ever you do, is ridiculous.  I'm no more destined to be a doctor than I am to be a firefighter.  And to believe that out there, there is this set of rules, a system, that says no matter what we do, we are enforcing their rules, is absurd.  This causes one to believe that perhaps, this set of rules, that they see, running our lives, is not some cosmic force, it's human nature.  By changing the present, we inhibit the future, but by resisting change, we are causing change to take place.  And to follow fate, and believe that nothing we can do will change our lives, is to give up on living.  Another theory, that i don't accept, is the multiple worlds theory.  The same reason as fate, is that we are too random as humans, to have separate multiverses to spring off each time we make a choice.  And if it does exist, that means there is a world out there, where Blake and I did live happily ever after, and to believe in one of those theories, disproves the other, which leads me to conclude that, this is the world we've got, we can change it, influence it, but there is no plan or other worlds that ordain our choices, it's us.  So, to all you fatalists out there, take some pride in your decisions, and in YOUR lives, and let life have some mystery.&lt;br /&gt;ATB,&lt;br /&gt;Ron&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4720550113849071670-8765654901714456480?l=romr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/feeds/8765654901714456480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4720550113849071670&amp;postID=8765654901714456480' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/8765654901714456480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/8765654901714456480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-won-game.html' title='I won the game'/><author><name>camnor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_NQuqrsdLKaE/R8uSbzSI5jI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vD8UTwOnNtw/S220/mee.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4720550113849071670.post-8915333903632003005</id><published>2009-01-05T05:30:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T06:29:16.795-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to Boredom</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt; Want to flame me on this one? Go for it.  But don't tear apart my spelling.  I wrote this at 5 am in the morning after 20 minutes of sleep. if you still feel the urge to say OMG ROFL LMAO l00k 4t h15 l4444m3 4$$ $p3ll1ng I am not going to respond for two reasons, one using "1337" is a horrible way to type a response, and two because even if I lack proper English grammar after 24 hours of not sleeping, have you ever thought that that just might be why?  Just thought I'd let you know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I am, 5:31 in the morning, and I got inspired.  Me getting inspired is usually how one of my blog posts start out, in case you haven't noticed how I don't post that often, or regularly.  So I started reading random blogs that have been coming through on my Stumbleupon account, being bored and all.  And I stumbled upon one of the most interesting sites that I have ever seen.  They call it post secret [link here http://www.postsecretcommunity.com/  ] , a website where you can write a short, secret on a post card and send it to them.  Now me, I have a secret that I hate myself for so much, and I wouldn't share with the world, let alone with a boyfriend or someone close.  This secret for years has terrified me, and if it ever came up in public, I would rather die than admit it's ever true.  Then I scrolled down on their page, and I came across one of their postcards, that struck a chord with me.  It goes "I only burned your poems because your mom called me gay...and I am" [here is that link  http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a7jkcMVp5Vg/SV_QTMmBp1I/AAAAAAAAHpM/mS01P0ffBD4/s1600-h/gay.jpg ].  Now while this isn't my big all time secret, it's one of my worst memories.  I remember being closeted and terrified to death about people finding out, thinking I'm a freak, and I would like to say that, maybe in his life( I am going to assume it's a guy because a girl wouldn't be called gay for liking poetry) it's unacceptable to be gay, but I like to think of coming out of the closet as one of my best decisions.  I have experienced life as I know it because of that one small choice I made that day to say, So what, I do like boys, is that a problem?, and my life is exponentially better.  In my social circle, people want to be with me, because instead of being that person that was scared to speak up and talk, I am now self confidant, and happy.  Well, not always happy (I do battle depression), but I like myself.  I like who I am, and what that means.  And I joke about it.  &lt;br /&gt;Call me a fag if you want, it doesn't bother me, because to me, it's not a slur, it's you pointing out exactly who I am.  I'm gay, and it defines me as a person, contrary to popular belief on my mothers part (Rant on mother in later post to be certain), and I like that.  Call me a fag/faggot, homo, fudge packer, queer, fairy, fruit, etc., I will turn around and just say, yup! thats who I am.  I say this because in our world, we won't remove labels like fudge packer and faggot until it stops bothering people.  I mean honestly, words only hurt if you let them be that way, and people won't stop calling you a faggot/fruitcake/whatever until it stops bothering the gay community.  Why should queer bother me?  I am gay, and I am outside conventional male sexuality, and queer is synonymous with weird.  Doesn't that make me weird.  But then again, who here on our lovely planet, can even begin to decide whats normal.  Everyone is weird in my eyes, and that's not going to change anytime soon.  &lt;br /&gt;On a side note for the gay community.  The reason why we get people calling us sluts and immoral, is because have you seen the slurs that our community, as a whole, propagates?  I know in PEI, a close minded province, the moment anyone mentions transvestite, who pops to mind but Jeffree Star.  Honestly, try it.  Go ask any one of your friends who the first popular transvestite is and it's Jeffree Star that pops out of their lips.  Now (and excuse my gender confusion if Jeffree Star has adopted the female personal pronouns) he is who he is, attention seeking and a drama queen.  Just because you are outside the "norm" doesn't mean that you are hot shit.  Honestly, I approve of transvestites, but it's like the lawyer jokes.  It's 99% of transvestites that give the others bad names.   I cannot think of a transvestite that I know of, save two or three, that don't go out of their way to be attention seeking and whiney.  Who cares if you identify as a woman?  That is your choice to make and I won't think less of you, but I won't make you special just because of it.  I will hold you to the same rules everyone else gets.  That means if you feel that you are truely supposed to be a girl, go to it.  But if you are going to start shoving out bullshit about how you sleep with this many men, and they like you cause you have a penis, I'm not going to accept that, because if one of my genetically female friends started telling me that she's a whore, and everyone wants to be with her and she sleeps with a bunch of men, then she's gonna get the same whore label that you got.  And I really don't care who wants to flame me on this one. Just because you are different doesn't mean society's rules cease to apply to you.  So I will tell you that you are rude, obnoxious, a jerk, or mean, because you are. But I am deviating.  What I mean to say, to the gay community, is that words only hurt when you give them meaning, and we allow ourselves to be labeled as sluts and promiscuous by supporting such stereotypical icons of "supposed" gay culture.  All I want, is to marry a man I love, and to have a family, and to grow old together as our kids grow up.  Is it so much to ask for?  I mean, all I want is what every human wants.  To be happy.  And I'm working towards that by not letting the "anti-gay" slurs affect me, and by not supporting the icons that only add fuel to the anti-gay fire.  That's where stereotypes come from, the most uniform part of a large group of people.  It's like saying all teenagers drink or all emos cut themselves.  It's not true, but until there's a shift in the vast majority, people are going to keep assigning stereotypes to people who don't deserve them, and it just makes me mad when people call me a slut, just because I'm gay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4720550113849071670-8915333903632003005?l=romr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/feeds/8915333903632003005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4720550113849071670&amp;postID=8915333903632003005' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/8915333903632003005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/8915333903632003005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/2009/01/welcome-to-boredom.html' title='Welcome to Boredom'/><author><name>camnor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_NQuqrsdLKaE/R8uSbzSI5jI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vD8UTwOnNtw/S220/mee.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4720550113849071670.post-1439174716049365068</id><published>2009-01-04T00:30:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-01-04T01:32:56.166-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Just so you know, this is a new years thank you, not a suicide note.</title><content type='html'>So here I am.  A new post in the new year.  A few things i would like to comment about that made this year special (in no particular order).&lt;br /&gt;Zak,&lt;br /&gt;You were the first real boyfriend I ever had.  I'm sorry that I don't feel up to dating you right now, or really anytime in the future, because you are really a great guy.  You are nice, caring, and you taught me how to trust others again.  I'm really sorry I hurt you, but it had to happen, and I want you to know that i still tear myself apart for doing it.&lt;br /&gt;Blake,&lt;br /&gt;You were the first boy that I wanted to show everything I had to, and whom showed me that life can be fantastic.  I will always think of how you and your friends and I used to talk about which one of us was the "girl" in the relationship, and how you would get really upset when they said it was you, and it makes me laugh.  I hope you and Tyler do well, you really deserve someone who can be there for you just as much as you were there for me.  I'm really glad that I got to date you, even for the short time we did.&lt;br /&gt;Chase,&lt;br /&gt;You will always a special person to me.  You have always been my listening ear, and someone whom I can just tell something and not have to worry about you telling people, because we both are from different countries.  I'm glad that we chatted when we did and that you and I are friends.  It really made some of the harder times in my life easier.&lt;br /&gt;Donny,&lt;br /&gt;As much as I want to be mad at you sometimes, I can never bring myself to it because you are a good person.  You are kind and friendly, and somebody who is naive and believes that life can still be magical.  I really do hope you find that special someone, who shares just as much with you that you do with them.&lt;br /&gt;Justin,&lt;br /&gt;I'm really sorry  for making you feel bad.  I know you are probably the nicest boy I know, and if I ever do have any problems, you would be the first one to know, because even though I've known you for so long, I've shown you so much of me that others don't get to see.  And please don't worry about me.  I really do like you, yes that much is true, but you're not mine to have.  And that is what is important.  Not that I like you.&lt;br /&gt;Chelsey,&lt;br /&gt;We have only known each other for a while, but you are one of the people that I really have grown to liking.  You make such a great friend and are a really nice person, and I would be your friend to the end of the universe, and never be awkward with you.  I hope you feel the same way about me, and that you will want to tell me everything that bothers you.&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie,&lt;br /&gt;You and I grew up together, got separated, and we're still best of friends.  I'm really glad that I know you, and that you still are my best friend.  You and I have shared times that I would not give up for the world.  You have made me see a lot of things that I would have otherwise missed, and I really think that even though we've had our fights, you've always meant well. And I hope you know that.&lt;br /&gt;Emiley,&lt;br /&gt;You and I have been best friends since that day we talked on the phone, and you were my only friend after Zak and I broke up that I still felt comfortable talking to.  You are the most amazing, fantastic person I know, that still has her sense of wonder intact.  I really hope that you and I still continue to share great times together, and that we hang out more often than we do.&lt;br /&gt;Jennifer and Courtney,&lt;br /&gt;The reason why you two get the same note together is because in my mind you two are like crackers and cheese.  You just go great together, and I wouldn't have one without the other.  Jennifer, I miss riding the bus with you and stealing your food, and eating the last half of your apple.  Courtney, I miss taking karate with you, no matter how bad my handstands and cartwheels were, Tuesday nights were close to the highlight of my week. I wouldn't have one of you without the other, and I am glad that, even though we really didn't ever get along in grades 4 to 9, that we became the best of friends in grade 10.&lt;br /&gt;Marissa,&lt;br /&gt;You and I are new friends, and we will probably only get to be better friends as our lives go on.  I will miss you after the change of semesters, hopefully we will share a class together, where we can sit there and have a good laugh everyday.  Even though I don't really know you, you seem to be to me a great person, and you will only get better as your life goes on.&lt;br /&gt;Heather,&lt;br /&gt;We will always be doodle buddies, sitting in math, or french, and drawing things in our scribblers because the rest of the class is so boring.  You are a great kid, and you are really nice, and I hope you get to experience the world.&lt;br /&gt;Brittany P.,&lt;br /&gt;You are another new friend in my life, and while we may not be as great of friends as me and Chelsey, but we'll get there, we just don't spend enough time together.  You will always be man enough for me, no matter how much of a woman you are.&lt;br /&gt;Tamara,&lt;br /&gt;You are my sister, my therapist, and the only person in this world who would love me and always be there for me.  I am really glad I did move in with you, and I am really glad that we have become better friends as a result.  I will always be there to lend you an ear for a rant, or a  pair of pants to wear out.  I am honest to goddess sorry that I made you come to that family dinner with me, and it meant a lot that you came.  I hope that you will fare better in the new years, and that we will have nothing but great times.&lt;br /&gt;Becka, &lt;br /&gt;Sorry for you being so low down in the list.  Don't think that because you are this low, you don't matter to me, because you do.  I care about you a lot, and I love spending time with you, and your family.  You were always the best one at cheering me up and for that I say thanks, and I hope that I can do the same for you.  I will always love you, and treat you like the princess you deserve to be, no matter what.&lt;br /&gt;Kimika,&lt;br /&gt;Again, sorry for you being near the bottom, I just had to type things out so that I wouldn't forget me being the scatterbrain I am.  I remember how we became friends in grade 2, and how we've been friends ever since.  I am really really glad that you and I are still friends, and I want you to know that when I am with you and Yuriko, I really feel like I am at home, and that I belong, and that I would never ever give that up.&lt;br /&gt;Chynnah,&lt;br /&gt;You, are me friend, and you make me smile all the time, no matter how silly or odd your remarks are. I enjoy spending my lunch hours walking with you and spending time with you, and I hope that we get to spend a lot more time together in the future.&lt;br /&gt;Cameron,&lt;br /&gt;You and I will always be known as the kids who dance down the hall singing a little bit of priest.  I would give anything to spend more time with you, and am really glad that you and I got to know each other.&lt;br /&gt;Becky and Chrissy,&lt;br /&gt;You two are just like Jennifer and Courtney.  You will always be the two friends whom I can visit anytime, and know that a smile will always be on my face.  You two are possible the craziest kids I know, along with Jennifer, Courtney, Kailey, and Nyssa, and I will always remember the times I've spent with you guys, and how much we've all experienced together.&lt;br /&gt;Kailey and Nyssa,&lt;br /&gt;Kailey, first off, excuse me for misspelling your name if it's spelled wrong.  As well, you two are amongst my group of crazy friends, and I would have you no other way.  I know Kailey and I had a rough start, meeting first at Kimika's birthday parties, and I'm pretty sure you didn't like me much then but that is alright.  Nyssa, I will always think of you for your funny comments, noises, and facial expressions.  For that, I thank you both.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone else,&lt;br /&gt;If you are reading this, you either slipped my mind in this post, and for that, I say sorry, I have a very limited mind, and am quite forgetful, as you probably know.  Of course, everyone that got listed, if you also read the other posts, and you feel like you have other people encroaching upon your friend space with me, it's not true.  Everyone I talked about in this post, are all my friends, and if I left anything out, or said anything wrong, let me know, and I will fix that up right away.  I dedicate this post to you, whomever you are reading this, because you at least have the time to listen a bit to what I say.  And for that I say thank you.  To my friends, I say thank you, for being there, making me laugh, spending time with me, being just as crazy as I am, and for that, I am eternally grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.  Again, no, this is not a suicide note.  I'm not going to go kill myself or anything.  I like living way too much, and would miss all the great people I know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4720550113849071670-1439174716049365068?l=romr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/feeds/1439174716049365068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4720550113849071670&amp;postID=1439174716049365068' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/1439174716049365068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/1439174716049365068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/2009/01/just-so-you-know-this-is-new-years.html' title='Just so you know, this is a new years thank you, not a suicide note.'/><author><name>camnor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_NQuqrsdLKaE/R8uSbzSI5jI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vD8UTwOnNtw/S220/mee.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4720550113849071670.post-2237100773383170865</id><published>2008-12-29T05:11:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-29T05:34:09.970-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Suicide List and My Big Tell All</title><content type='html'>Today was an interesting day.  I was stumbling around the net like i usually do on stumbleupon.  And this page comes up called the Top Ten Depression Blogs 2008 [http://psychcentral.com/blog/archives/2008/12/19/top-ten-depression-blogs-2008/ and the suicide list is http://thesuicidelist.blogspot.com/] and I have to admit, they are reality.  I battle with depression constantly.  I have been known to use the mask that most people see in public, of a cheery, happy guy, one who likes to have fun, when really, I'm usually not.  And I don't admit this to a lot of people.  I think only a few people have heard me reference myself in this manner.  So internet, here you go.  And Mariah, if you are reading this, I'm sorry for your losses.  I can only imagine. And i don't want to sound like some condescending asshole, but I know what it's like to sit in bed, and wonder what is the purpose of it all.  I have never been driven to suicide, but there were days when the things that I imagined and the horrors i could see just made me want to crawl inside myself.   I remember thinking of how fragile people are and just how with one wrong slip or one wrong push, a life blinks out.  And that is the thoughts from the good days.  Now, they are manageable, my day terrors, but I see a small child and all those thoughts from when i cared for my niece instantly pop back up all fresh in my mind, and I can't help but wonder if I am actually crazy.  I just, see the world, such a crazy horrible mean place, and I wonder, am I really the only one who has a problem with these people?  For example, there was a young guy who killed himself on webcam and no one thought to call the police, or a doctor or someone.  They didn't even just sit there and watch.  they egged him on.  In my opinion it's not the person who commits suicide who is at fault, it's every person who turned to them that day, and were mean to them with no reason.  they didn't ask for you to hate them because they dress different, die their hair, cut their wrists, do drugs, drink or sulk.  So if the world stopped worrying so much about how different everybody is and started working on changing themselves, this whole entire planet wouldn't be such a hellhole.  As for me, I've helped a friend not commit suicide.  If you never have, you don't know how horrible it is to tell them that you love them and that they can put down the knife, or the pills or the cleaner, nor how heart wrenching it is.  I'm so sorry for everyone who's touched by suicide, because suicide is like a bomb, once it blows, everyone is hit with the aftermath. And you wouldn't think a guy like me, so happy go lucky, cheerful, and friendly, would have any idea of what sadness is.  I have been touched by my fair share, and the only reason why i still put the effort into being happy is because of a long up bringing where i was taught to lie, and make believe, and never tell anyone outside of those who were directly affected, that anything in my life could ever be possibly wrong or broken.  I remember my mom's favorite phrase " Don't you tell them because what would they think?" and hearing it everytime a friend would come over or every time we would do something, because we lived a poor, poor life.  I remember food bank runs, not paying 30$ student fees because they weren't affordable, missing rent payments and getting chased by the landlord, loosing our power because we could afford it, having four pairs of pants to last for two years, and no new coat every winter.  I'm not anything special.  I'm the same as every other kid whose mom lived off welfare.  And in a way, we're better than those who were raised in comfortable homes.  We know the value of money, we know what it's like to loose everything and start over. We understand the horrors of the world, what it's like to not eat for two or three days, and what it's like to help raise two other kids while your mother works her ass off to find a job to make money. You just understand how horrible the world can be.  And you don't take the nice part for granted.  Well that is enough for one night.  Sorry for prattling on for so long.  Night all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ATB&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ron&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4720550113849071670-2237100773383170865?l=romr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/feeds/2237100773383170865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4720550113849071670&amp;postID=2237100773383170865' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/2237100773383170865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/2237100773383170865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/2008/12/suicide-list-and-my-big-tell-all.html' title='The Suicide List and My Big Tell All'/><author><name>camnor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_NQuqrsdLKaE/R8uSbzSI5jI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vD8UTwOnNtw/S220/mee.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4720550113849071670.post-27451039700478606</id><published>2008-12-09T20:45:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T21:02:06.171-04:00</updated><title type='text'>You are silly, and so's your dad.</title><content type='html'>So, I have a bad habit of not posting regularly.  So here's an update since that last post. It has been approximately a month.  And I have done lots since I last posted.  I am officially single, and looking.  I live in my apartment, with my sister, and her daughter, and I am happy, and content and having lots of fun.  I have made new friends, lost old ones, and strengthened some of my old friendships.  Other than that, I haven't done a whole lot.   I have become horribly addicted to Dr Who, and have decided that for Christmas, I would like David Tennant, naked, and on my bed.  Another thing I have decided is that I also like John Barrowman, who is super awesome naked.  Go watch Dr. Who. It's a sweet show, and awesome.  I have also found some love left over for Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.  It's a great play and it is really really good.  I mean, the end is very depressing, but the play and the way that the words flow and are written is real poetry. Anyways I'm going to go now night all!&lt;br /&gt;ATB,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ron!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4720550113849071670-27451039700478606?l=romr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/feeds/27451039700478606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4720550113849071670&amp;postID=27451039700478606' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/27451039700478606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/27451039700478606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/2008/12/you-are-silly-and-sos-your-dad.html' title='You are silly, and so&apos;s your dad.'/><author><name>camnor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_NQuqrsdLKaE/R8uSbzSI5jI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vD8UTwOnNtw/S220/mee.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4720550113849071670.post-7151945930111397287</id><published>2008-11-12T00:05:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T00:09:03.281-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Leaf</title><content type='html'>So as you can probably see, I have taken everything out of my site and erased it all.  I guess you could call it a clean slate.  Well, I am Ron.  I am a boy, and I like life.  I honestly want to help people, but only because it makes me feel good inside.  I guess that doesn't really make me bad, but in someways, I guess it does.  I love to blog.  Well, I get forgetful, and then I don't do it.  Like right now, I should be doing my french homework, but I'm not.  Big surprise haha.  Well, if you want to know anything more about me, my email is camnor!inbox.com only with an @ instead of !.  Cause, if you can't figure that out, then you really should rethink the basics of email.  Anywho, tootles!&lt;br /&gt;All the best(ATB)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ron&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4720550113849071670-7151945930111397287?l=romr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/feeds/7151945930111397287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4720550113849071670&amp;postID=7151945930111397287' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/7151945930111397287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4720550113849071670/posts/default/7151945930111397287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romr.blogspot.com/2008/11/new-leaf.html' title='A New Leaf'/><author><name>camnor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_NQuqrsdLKaE/R8uSbzSI5jI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vD8UTwOnNtw/S220/mee.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
