<?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-5563376048647461307</id><updated>2012-02-15T23:43:58.882-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chella!</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>27</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-3600612511983808612</id><published>2011-08-21T09:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-21T11:43:50.390-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A little blank in the eyes...</title><content type='html'>I've always been told that I have a very expressive face, my first reactions to anything (the truest reactions if you ask me) can usually be read in my face and I've also been told you can tell my mood in my eyes. &lt;div&gt;For a long time I was extra careful to cover up the upsets and sadness and disappointments going on in my life and put on that perpetual smile so many of you know so well that maybe none of you have seen a real one in so long that you can't tell the difference. For a long time I'd be very careful with my "cover" that it never dawned on me that those who were curious could really read me if they wanted to through my eyes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've also been told on many occasions that I have sad eyes. I believe pictures taken of me when I don't smile look sad , the sides of my lips are slightly turned down so I thought that contributed to my somber look. I gave no consideration to the sadness that seems or seemed to spill through my stare.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I suppose that may have been where I expressed the sadness, behind my eyes. I used to blame the circumstances that caused my sadness... the death of people I love, the end of some relationships, broken friendships, missed opportunities, but I didn't take the responsibility for the presence of them in my spirit. I never admitted to myself that I was the one that held them in my heart for them to be present in my glare and dwell there so long that it almost became a facial feature. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Its always been a habit of mine, and I am sure its a regular practice of many people, to compare my present situation to ones I've had before. I found myself in a discussion with my boyfriend, (yes I have one of those but that is for another blog, he's a good guy and he's really sweet to me, I hope that puts you at ease until I give you the details) and he said to me that my stare has started to look a little blank and that he's finding it increasingly hard to read my eyes. When he said it at first I was a little confused by it, I didn't understand how it was possible for me to be blank in the eyes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I gave it some thought, maybe I'm blank in my eyes because I've started to let go of the things that made me sad and disappointed, maybe what he saw in my eyes that he was so familiar with was the sadness I carried for so long. I've let go of a lot of things so maybe the absence of "readable content" is just the space made for something better. Maybe my emotionless stare isn't a bad thing, a sign of newly found hope in things yet to come.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-3600612511983808612?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/3600612511983808612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2011/08/little-blank-in-eyes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/3600612511983808612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/3600612511983808612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2011/08/little-blank-in-eyes.html' title='A little blank in the eyes...'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-7839821689747017100</id><published>2011-01-23T05:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-21T11:18:47.605-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Flipped upside down and back around</title><content type='html'>I was doing so well with the promises I made you guys. At least on entry a month I said last year and then nothing from me in seven months... What a horrible friend. Excuses? Of course I have those and if you're interested I'd prefer to offer them as explanations as opposed to excuses. I don't regret the reasons that prevented me from writing I just wish I made the time to write through them. &lt;div&gt;Everyday for the past seven months have been centered, at some time or another, around my grandmother. Joyce Winsome McKenzie was born June 14, 1935, she attended Primary and High School in St James, went to teacher's college, entered and won Miss St. James, gave birth and raised 6 children, taught at her alma mater, worked for the government, jumped in Jamaica carnival on numerous occasions, opened and ran her own culinary school, wrote Common Entrance and GSAT math books, traveled to China, Korea, Alaska, among other places, helped to raise her grand and to an even grater part great- grandchildren... I could continue this list forever and through out all her accomplishments and achievements and recognition she was on of the most down to earth, humbled person I know. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In mid July my mother asked me if I would mind going to stay with my grandmother because my cousins that were staying with her for the past almost 3 years were going back to the states and grandma would need some help around the house because of a pinched nerve. No problem I thought I love my grandmother's company. I moved in the very same day my cousins left and my grandmother became my everything. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the mornings we'd wake up (she would usually wake me up) go downstairs, and make breakfast. She'd go off to work and I'd go off to work and we'd both not say anything much to each other until the evening when she'd bring me home a slice of cake or a sugar flower she made while at her school, until one day it became hard for her to breathe. Now I cant even remember the day of the week really I just remember calling my aunt and telling her to come quickly, they admitted her. There was fluid on her right lung, so they removed it and tested it. She had just completed treatment for breast cancer earlier in the year so they were testing to see if the cancer had spread. we got her home and she was doing fine until the shortness in breath had come back, back to the hospital pumped more fluid off the lung and this time powdered the lung so that no more fluid can gather in that part of her chest cavity. Safe for now, I thought, but I thought too soon. Results from the lab showed that the cancer was back and now in the lining of the lung and lung and was extremely aggressive. I stopped working the minute she was home and spent every waking moment doing whatever it was that she needed me to do, I even started sleeping lighter so that if she called in the night I would be conscious enough to respond. The rest of the summer was much like that and towards the end I got help with her. Its hard taking care of someone you love, its harder when its your full time responsibility and increasingly more difficult when you have to do it alone. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;By the time school started I was already tired and began hating the sound of my name. No rest for the wicked. A few nights for the week I took the night shift with grandma which eventually became sleeping in the sofa next to hers and getting up at the strangest hours to make her tea, helping her to the bathroom, helping her sit up, sometimes feeding her and dispensing pills which seems to multiply every time she went to the doctor, and even through all of this I still could not imagine what was to follow. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On the 29th November we took grandma to the hospital. She had stopped eating and it was becoming more difficult moving her. They admitted her to the hospital, put her right back in the same room she had been in the first time we took her there and for one week I could not do anything constructive unless i was at her bedside, I didn't even bother to go to school and if I did make it into my uniform I quickly walked down to the hospital. On Sunday night I kissed her cold hands on my way out to go home. As I put my head to the pillow my mother called, grandma had passed. It was then that I realized just how quiet the house was. I pulled my clothes on and went with my aunt to the hospital and stayed until the undertakers came for the body. Its been one month 2 weeks and three days since she's passed and I have not slept one night in her house alone, but I will tonight. All my company leaves me today, not sure how I'll fall asleep. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last year this time I was gearing up for my second semester at school, by the way I kicked ass last year... 4.02 GPA. The scholarship eluded me last semester but there are a few more to come. Last year this time my world was almost perfect, still some pot holes in the road but I was learning to hold my own. Now today, today I still think of my grandmother, I sit in her house and wonder if I will ever be as magnificent and graceful and poised as she was. I miss her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In Loving Memory of Joyce W. McKenzie. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-7839821689747017100?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/7839821689747017100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2011/01/flipped-upside-down-and-back-around.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/7839821689747017100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/7839821689747017100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2011/01/flipped-upside-down-and-back-around.html' title='Flipped upside down and back around'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-7511293656858856093</id><published>2010-06-06T11:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T12:22:37.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Consciousness?</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I mourned the passing of a friend I've had for about 10 years. His name is Oneil Edwards and he was part of a dancehall group called Voicemail. He was shot multiple times at his home while he was going in after a night partying. While I sat 4 rows to the left of the middle exit of Church on the Rock with my eyes sore from wiping away tears with my hands and mu lip quivering like it usually does when I'm fighting back tears my mind started racing. &lt;div&gt;When I got the message he had been shot and in the hospital I started to think about how we met, and how he and Kevin were excellent at making me laugh and I started to worry about Kevin and Craig. I had flashback from my sweet sixteen and I can remember how much passion they sang with and how hard it was to concentrate on the words of the song because my eyes were just darting all over to look each one of them in the face and I couldn't stop blushing. And I remember my fifth form ball when they sang and I thought these are my boys. My friends and I would call radio stations and request songs and listen to interviews and feel almost giddy when we watched their first video thinking this is it... this could be the big break!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When they became popular I thought to myself why would they want to stay friends with me, regular me who has no status in the grand scheme of things; but I'd go out and see them and they'd curse me out for not coming and saying hi, and made me promise I'd call. They hadn't changed but I guess my perception of them had. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now my friend of 10 years is dead and I'm stuck with a racing mind. His death will, I hope will, bring a new consciousness to the dancehall industry (it should or what's the point?). A consciousness concerned with what they dj or sing or produce, to transform it to something uplifting and gives hope to those that are so wayward or without guidance that they buy into the arguments that are proposed in the lyrics of dancehall. For me though its a consciousness related to the invitations I send out for people to be a part of my life. I have so many friends, I know so many people that are there for the laughs and there is money in my pocket and we can go to the all inclusive party in a new top and heels but where do they go when I'm crying and if they remember me in my loss does that make them better friends than those who call me to invite me out? What about those who rarely call at all, are they my friends or are they just acquaintances? Am I picking the wrong people to care about, because I'm busy loving a set of people that may not hold me in the same esteem. While I soul search and look for answers I promise to call Kevin more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rest In Peace Oneil, missing you already.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-7511293656858856093?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/7511293656858856093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2010/06/new-consciousness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/7511293656858856093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/7511293656858856093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2010/06/new-consciousness.html' title='New Consciousness?'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-7276000692264347298</id><published>2010-05-19T19:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T20:37:04.817-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hey :)</title><content type='html'>Ok so I know I have been a little M.I.A. I have exams going on, one left and its my course... Math. And because I pretty much know I can walk into that exam and pass with at least a B I decided I would show you guys some love and bless you with my presence (lol... yeah right!) &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Its been a pretty eventful couple of weeks. One of my friends came down from FLL and I'm telling you its like he never left. We hung out twice, I was prepping for exams and couldn't find much time to do anything other than study, but while we hung out it just reminded me that I really am blessed to have some real, good people in my life and no matter the distance or the time apart I will always have them and they me. Its funny how really good friends never fall out of sync and even funnier how fast the fake friendships fall apart but I won't go there tonight. Tonight is not for that. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So its coming closer and closer to my last day as a 1st year student and I am excited and exhausted and hopeful. I'm excited to get this year over with, I am really looking forward to the summer, even if it only means sitting around a desk doing accounts for 2 and a half months, a little more money in my pocket and a little more time with my friends and NO GROUPWORK!  First on the agenda: get rid of the shoe tan... eew!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So it would appear that after months of walking around Mico's campus and to and from the Hostel and P.E Classes (yes I had to do P.E in the middle of the day when the sun is at its most assaulting) not only did I get a well defined T-shirt tan but I also lost some weight. Yes Ladies and Gentlemen, all my uniforms will be changed for the upcoming school year for they have become too roomy... at the very least the skirt will all be taken in. Now I can't tell you how much I loss, the scale and I were never friends (it is such a liar!) I can tell you that it isn't enough for jaws to drop to the floor but I see it in the way my clothes fit... I like it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ohh and I got back my grades from my first semester and I have one B three B+'s, an A+ and a pass in a pass/fail course .... at this time I'll leave you to applaud me... I'll wait.... It was not easy, 6 years away from the classroom was way too long. I'm proud of myself, and more of it to come I promise. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My mom is having her b-day party in a little over a week from now, we are all excited. The family will be here. I love my tribe cannot wait to have them here :) I may even be more excited that my mother... figures.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hmmm... what else to tell you? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh I might be getting a new digital camera... I feel so naked without one, hopefully they remembered, cross your fingers. If I do get it I want to try the 365 project again... I think it'll be interesting. That's it for now I think... just wanted to fill you in... :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/5563376048647461307-7276000692264347298?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/7276000692264347298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2010/05/hey.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/7276000692264347298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/7276000692264347298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2010/05/hey.html' title='Hey :)'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-4017962353573475594</id><published>2010-04-16T19:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-16T21:28:31.462-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Child to tha boo!</title><content type='html'>It's been getting pretty heavy in here hasn't it? So serious... time for some analysis I think.&lt;div&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Not many girls think like me I’ve come to realise. I blame my upbringing. My aggressive, self sufficient female relatives have permanently etched in my mind a spirit of “do it yourself and don’t wait for a man to do it for you.” It often shocks me how little some girls sell themselves for, really my girl a party ticket? So, what we couldn’t go home and rub some flour dumpling we really had to give it up for a cheeseburger? Matters worse when you not getting anything more than the few minutes of attention when you thought for sure after this one lay down you were going to be able to buy two new shoes. Ladies, ladies, ladies, why? &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Why do you sell yourself so short? You don’t think you’re worth more than a taxi fare and a new blouse?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Let me clear up any misunderstandings, I am not saying your significant other can’t spend on you, by all means, but you should not be up for sale. Whether or not you get that plane ticket money should not depend on how long you can stay on your head top “while him a do him ting.” Honey, go to school, look a work and buy your own stuff, let your brain work and not your crotch.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;There is a new, how should I say it, phenomena going on at school. It is quiet fascinating really because these are future educators, the ones you will leave your daughters and sons with for at least 6 hours a day so that they can be taught not only what’s in the books but also what is socially acceptable and how we are supposed to act towards each other. Now I wonder if it was planned or if its the heat, but all of a sudden these boys want to beat on their girlfriends, and I am not talking about a one chuck or slap, I am talking about sitting in her chest and knocking her upside her head and pushing her through glass pane windows. Now, I wasn’t there for either incident so I don’t know if the assaults were aggravated or provoked (even though I fail to see what I could have said that would have warranted pushing me to the ground and kicking me in my sides) but Lord, this is where we’re at? This is what “deh wid” come to, sending me to the hospital and you being carted away to the police station? I mean is not a little argument is some real brawls, they were out there scrappin’. One girl got upset because her boyfriend was chummying up to his ex, she approached him and he was all over her, kicked her to the ground, started choking her and she was only able to get him off by reaching for a rock and smacking him in the eye with it, that happened one Friday night and by the Tuesday they were kissing under the trees. The next one she approached her boyfriend to break up with him I heard, and he got so upset that he pushed her and she pushed back and he chucked her through a glass window, she ended up in the hospital and he ended up at the police station. Yes, these are the men that will teach your children Physical Education and History. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;When did women become so weak that we are unable to leave when its time to leave? Are we missing the signs? If he's always lying to you, its time to go. If he never has time for you. its time to go. If he doesn't uplift you spiritually, its time to go. If he degrades you, its time to go. If he hits you, baby girl I'll help you pack 'cause its been time to go. There is life without a man, its not a bad life either, its been pretty good to me for the most part. And I can understand the case where you met him and he's helping you financially, and you feel obligated to stay through the crap. I know of people who, because of money, do some strange things, but these guys are broke they attend school full time and collect a lunch money.  I simply don't get it. It truly eludes me. And these guys aren't even manly men with chest hair and stuff, they are almost fresh out of high school and barely have hair of their chins, what are they doing beating on people's girl children? I don't know man... I really don't know.&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;Still kinda heavy right? Sorry.&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-4017962353573475594?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/4017962353573475594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2010/04/child-to-tha-boo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/4017962353573475594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/4017962353573475594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2010/04/child-to-tha-boo.html' title='Child to tha boo!'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-139883979704012170</id><published>2010-04-08T17:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-08T17:26:47.659-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fading to black</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;We wear the badges differently I suppose some drown it, others pop it, cut it, smoke it, plaster it under a new MAC shadow and patent leather heels... &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Solitude in his magnificence has found me&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And all I can think while tears burn my eyes and soak my pillow, is how did I let this happen again?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;How did I slip away and no one notice, &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;How did I slip and no one care,&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Feelings of emptiness hit, and somehow it’s like I’ve gotten so far that even my screams for help have become whispers amongst laughter.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And as I feel the self loathing and sheer guilt make my lip quiver while he kisses me with assertion, I catch my darkened reflection in the mirror and look away&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;There is something to be said of being here again... depression, my faithful friend&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Behind smiles! The brighter the better!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;as I remind myself not to break, (don’t break) &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Not to fall, (please don’t fall).&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But Oh how far I’ve gone &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;my greatest fear is that someday I’ll not be afraid of being alone anymore and stand justified in the knowledge that he and I have always had an unrequited love affair, &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;he has always wanted me more than I could bare.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Prayers mouthed under short breaths while vision blurred and sweat washes my body I feel my body start to rock.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Here we go again.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;My return to this place, &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;so dark the thought of light is eclipsed by the darker days to come.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;and I know what it took to overcome the last spell and the hardest part is I know I'll walk it alone&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;My homecoming of sorts.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Fading to black.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-139883979704012170?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/139883979704012170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2010/04/fading-to-black.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/139883979704012170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/139883979704012170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2010/04/fading-to-black.html' title='Fading to black'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-4231852590547967220</id><published>2010-03-25T12:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-25T13:00:35.718-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweetest Thing...</title><content type='html'>Okay so I heard these things are better dealt with when you just spit it out and admit it, and you all know how shy I am or can be from time to time. But... here goes... you ready? Okay okay okay, I'll do it dammit, okay here goes, I am so smitten, like totally "love out" as my BFF would put it. And I suppose I always felt this way about him. &lt;div&gt;I have never met anyone or had anything else in my life that I can turn to and feel so completely understood. At my worst, I can find refuge in our relationship and sometimes I swear he can control my emotions, tempers me when necessary, makes me laugh and allows me to cry, upsets me and remind me of times past. &lt;div&gt;I love him most when he's around when I am just being me, cotton sweats and washing dishes or when I'm in black leggings trying to get my eyeshadow right to hit the road. I can't even ignore him if or when I want to I just have to hear what he has to say even when he is without words I love him. I love how vulnerable he can be, and he has no problem being dark... sometimes downright raw. Jeez! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He's never jealous and maybe its because he knows sooner or later (most likely sooner than later) it will be me and him again. I missed him most when I stopped dancing, I swear he used to take me places I'd never go on my own. He just sweeps me off my feet. I can't help but smile when I think of how perfectly entwined he and I are. He was there for every pivotal point of my life, saved me from myself so many times. He is my own private rock, even though I'm sure he means a lot to other people too. Did you guess who it is? I'm sure you guys know him pretty well... well did you guess? It's MUSIC!! but shhh! Don't tell anyone, our little secret :) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-4231852590547967220?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/4231852590547967220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2010/03/sweetest-thing.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/4231852590547967220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/4231852590547967220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2010/03/sweetest-thing.html' title='Sweetest Thing...'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-8805266671206268691</id><published>2010-03-23T13:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-23T13:33:42.687-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Confessions</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So every now and again I feel the need to share my thoughts, and these are pretty personal thoughts, not so much pet peeves or recent curiosities. I suppose these are what I keep in most of the time until the inevitable need to let go. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;My mother and brother have moved back in, but no need for celebration, because my dad has moved out. Of both my parents I am closer to my father. He allows very little to bother him, and I love him and hate him and maybe even envy him for his ability to just I don’t know... survive perhaps. I suppose he is the one that cultivated my little ability to be able to talk to guys because he was always more approachable and practical than my mother. My father is one of the quietest people you will meet, borderline shy, brilliant and humble men I have even been exposed to.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I miss him.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;My anxiety comes with my mother as she can be I don’t know, maybe selfish. Let me expand; she wants things her own way and I guess everyone wants things their way, but she is willing to give up things for what she wants granted the things to be given up aren’t hers and usually mine. Perhaps growing up in rural St. James has something to do with it, she is from a big family and they weren’t exactly rich so maybe she had to sacrifice some of her wants and needs for the greater good of others and now it’s just my turn to pay the piper. I never gave it much thought before, I just take from her what I am offered and press on, I’ll get my attention from my friends and take from her conversations and instructions and even some laughs where possible.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I used to tell people she was my big sister when I was younger, it’s funny how relationships change. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When I see my “lack offs” and my “how and I going to get/achieve this” moments, I could kick myself. It isn’t even because I couldn’t do it, Marketing wasn’t hard, I can work in an office, with a supervisor and lunch hours. I can wear knee length straight skirts and long sleeved jackets and attend meetings, whether or not it is for me isn’t the point, the point is that I would have been greater with that piece of paper from UTech, more accomplished and in a better position to help myself. I lost so much time, even though I learnt so much from just being out there working time spent doing something, time that isn’t spent chasing your dream is time wasted. I’m on borrowed time now, 25 and a first year student at a backward school, the hardest thing for me to do is slow down and hand over the reins of an assignment to someone else. So what do I do? I do group assignments on my own, and plan presentations on my own, and I bring print outs and cut them up so that everyone can get a grade, and I pull down grades I haven’t seen since maybe 5&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; form, and I don’t listen to the doctor (and even some friends) that tells me I need to get some rest, painkillers for the head and body aches and aspirin for the bruises and I push and I fight and remind myself 3 more years. I am tired but somehow I’ve mastered the art of wearing my mask and only the closest to me see even the hint of sleep in my eyes through the smiles or hear the crack in my voice when I talk about valency shells or ecosystems. I have become a mosaic of sorts, colourful and detailed and bright and beautiful but still made up of tiny broken pieces arranged perfectly. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-8805266671206268691?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/8805266671206268691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2010/03/confessions.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/8805266671206268691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/8805266671206268691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2010/03/confessions.html' title='Confessions'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-8522718470197958823</id><published>2010-02-20T19:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T20:47:49.029-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby sisters</title><content type='html'>I was there to see you crawl &lt;div&gt;and stretch and grow and do it all&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and though I may have been distracted a bit &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was always mindful of where I'd sit &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and how mean this world can be, but I knew how much you loved following me &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I whispered all my thoughts and dreams &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and memories and all my "hope to be"s&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And when I thought you were old enough I taught you what I knew of love &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How it could hurt and make you smile &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and prayed to God you'd wait a while &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And not repeat my missteps &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and you'd learn to respect yourself &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now that you're all grown&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;with secrets and dreams of your own&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My hope for you will always be &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;to be able to face adversity with an air of finesse &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and through it all true happiness&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/5563376048647461307-8522718470197958823?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/8522718470197958823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2010/02/baby-sisters.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/8522718470197958823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/8522718470197958823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2010/02/baby-sisters.html' title='Baby sisters'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-8626935170605947814</id><published>2010-02-14T04:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-14T15:33:42.540-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why you're probably single...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Okay so I'm in the beginning stages of a project for school where I have to put a learner profile together. Basically, I have to take a student under 18 (I have tonnes of cousins to use) and based on their age I'm supposed to analyse them through the eyes of some psychologists. While reading though, I got to thinking about about today Valentine's Day and decided I'd do a little analyses of my friends. No, No Freud... even though he does make for some interesting reading; the little pervert.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The psychologist I'd like to look at is Abraham Maslow. In essence Mr. Maslow suggested that there is a hierarchy of needs that need to be met before one is self fulfilled.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/S3f5lYfoxwI/AAAAAAAAABY/4EJwwsyLnKI/s1600-h/maslows-hierarchy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 280px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/S3f5lYfoxwI/AAAAAAAAABY/4EJwwsyLnKI/s320/maslows-hierarchy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438089495698786050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the model. Lets analyse. Now at the very bottom of the "Needs" Pyramid is your Physiological Needs: these include your need for somewhere to sleep, food to eat and clean water to drink... Mr. Maslow also suggests that sex should be at the bottom of this table. Above this is Safety and Security, Love and Belongingness, Self Esteem and then friends when you have met all these needs you become Self Actualized. This is you at your optimum! At the risk of really exposing myself as the mean girl I try so hard to shake... Doesn't this explain alot? We need sex more than we need to think highly of ourselves. We need sex more than we need to be loved. We need sex more than we need to know that no one is gonna come kick off our door at night, yes we need the house but it doesn't really need to be all that safe as long as we can have sex in it? With the equation of sleep to sex or even air to sex am I to assume that without it I will die? Or better yet since sex is equal to air or water or food does the quality sex aids in development since polluted air and malnutrition stunts growth?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/5563376048647461307-8626935170605947814?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/8626935170605947814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2010/02/why-youre-probably-single.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/8626935170605947814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/8626935170605947814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2010/02/why-youre-probably-single.html' title='Why you&apos;re probably single...'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/S3f5lYfoxwI/AAAAAAAAABY/4EJwwsyLnKI/s72-c/maslows-hierarchy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-435922774807146083</id><published>2010-02-13T08:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-13T17:06:28.496-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pussy Principles</title><content type='html'>Now, many of you guys know me on a personal level, we've had conversations you guys know what I'll put up with and what I wont. You know this is my venting spot and where I can"talk di tings" so if you don't like what I'm about to say you can hit that little red x at the top right hand corner of the page.Let me strongly suggest you read it through though.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;Pussy Principles&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pussy Principles can be defined as a set of rules you follow as a woman to keep a peaceful relationship, a peaceful life and generally healthy relationships with the people around you including your friends, parents and associates because we all know relationships overlap and what is going sour in one may just spoil everything. These are things people really shouldn't have to tell you because deep down you know you're wrong and no matter what you told yourself while it was going on you know you were lying to yourself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Allow me to expand:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When you are in a sensible, stable relationship DO NOT entertain other "offers." Yes the attention is nice and everyone likes to be admired but for the sake of all that is good and right don't call new guy to ask him to keep your company because you're bored or lonely or just because you have a phone and can, you know you're leading him on and you just going to make things worse for all involved. If you know you're not going to let it get any further than the flirting why bother rock your nice stable boat, and if you see it going further leave your boyfriend first and give yourself some time to "air."  We all know the fable about the dog who drowned chasing the reflection of a bone he already had... Don't be that bitch!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nobody likes the "ugly duckling" syndrome. I know your beauty may astound you at times. maybe your even new pretty, but fishing for compliments isn't attractive honey. You're gorgeous, move on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't get yourself attached to an unavailable man. You know how it ends, you crying in your bed because he didn't call or didn't leave her or didn't see what the big deal is about playing FIFA with the guys on your birthday is about... if he just isn't doing what he promised he would the stress of you crying over it is a waste of energy. Don't cry to your girls either because chances are they told you to run from get go and it gets real old real fast.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't pick fights you can't win, not with your friends and not with your man. I don't think I need to elaborate on that one its self explanatory. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't ask for things you know you don't want. If you don't want to know if he's cheating and if you're not prepared to tell him how you got the information you have gotten don't go searching his stuff. Don't go through the phones/email/text messages/voice mail if you are not prepared to face the music.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do not "look" the guy your friend is "looking", if she's your good friend makes matters worse. There is an underlying understanding, no its not all fair in love and war, it may seem so at first but honey, if you push too hard the claws may come out and if you know your file is fat don't run the risk of it being let out. We girls fight so dirty at times.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do not believe that your friend should tell you you are wrong about anything. You have a brain and a conscience, and you we're raised by good upstanding people don't embarrass yourself and then wonder why nobody said anything to you chances are the boat was sinking so fast that no amount of them paddling the water out would have saved you from making the mistake you made. Besides, especially when it comes to relationships no matter what your friends are telling you you were going to do what you want to do anyway. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Really, pussy principles is about being graceful and taking everything into consideration before making stupid moves. It forces you to take a good long look at things as they stand and be objective about the repercussions of the things you may or may not be doing subconsciously. There are more to follow so stay tuned... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Chelle &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-435922774807146083?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/435922774807146083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2010/02/pussy-principles.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/435922774807146083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/435922774807146083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2010/02/pussy-principles.html' title='Pussy Principles'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-1518536068777579545</id><published>2010-01-05T05:50:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T07:40:49.776-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Thousand Ten and Men</title><content type='html'>First of all HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!! I hope the clock striking 12 found you doing something you love with the people who count, me, it found with a cake plate of chinese spicy noodles and sweet and sour chicken and music blaring. &lt;div&gt;When I decided to start writing I made a conscious decision not to make it about men. To be honest, lately their importance has dwindled. I found so many other things to get into, things that will add to me, that most of the time I don't miss not having one but I stray.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Recently I spoke to one of my exes and he asked me what was going on with me "guy wise." When I told him that nothing was really going on, and that I thought there and just a few decent men left and the abundance of these female harbour sharks makes it too hard to even bother so I stopped looking he laughed, and when he realized I wasn't laughing with him the laughing simmered to a chuckle. I went on to explain to him that in my experience the "good" men are taken and since I'm not into the sharing that isn't and option, besides if the guy is any good for real he wouldn't be into the "juggling." He then said, and really this statement summarizes the reality that was our relationship, "well Chella, I dont know what to tell you, I guess you're going to be single then," seriously...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok so I get it, some of us as females have our standards set so high that it would be hard to find someone of that calibre it isn't impossible ( I'd hate to think its impossible) but if you were to stick to your guns, you'd have many lonely nights. I also am well aware that some of us carry around so much baggage that it makes it hard to really see a situation for what it is because of this haze of mistrust and that knot in your stomach that forms from fear of the familiar (this I KNOW  I am guilty of). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If it were for sex alone, this game would be a whole lot different, you'd jus' boots up and cross your fingers that homeboy knows what he's doing and actually I don't know, takes some pride and isn't only after his own pleasure. Guys, in general, like that game a lot. They sometimes try to turn other situations into that game. But no, it is not for sex alone, at least in my case which makes it that much more difficult for me.  So this year, like last year and even the year before that, I'm going to see what happens and have the men fall as they may.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-1518536068777579545?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/1518536068777579545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2010/01/two-thousand-ten-and-men.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/1518536068777579545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/1518536068777579545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2010/01/two-thousand-ten-and-men.html' title='Two Thousand Ten and Men'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-7046562983257447364</id><published>2009-12-10T18:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T19:25:26.465-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Around the corner.</title><content type='html'>So tomorrow will make it one week before I turn 25, and I have to admit I'm not where I thought I'd be. If you asked me 10 years ago I would have told you that by the time I reach 25, I'd be working in a Marketing firm or up and coming company, married to the love of my life maybe even thinking about having a baby. Alas, here comes 25 and I will prove myself dead wrong.&lt;div&gt;I suppose I shouldn't feel too bad about not being some Marketing Manager because I could have had that but I wouldn't be happy. As for the marriage... I don't even know if marriage in on the table for me. Lots of issues to work through I guess, and since men are such a sore spot for me the babies may be another feat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Instead, I have no idea how I am going to spend it or even with whom. Somehow I already know it isn't going to turn out the way i want it to. My birthday are becoming to be more and more of a burden than anything else, I used to get so excited wake up in the morning and put on a tiara and just bask in the love I was getting from my friends. Now celebrating my birthday has become a chore and I hate that it has. I loved the excitement; even if all I did was sit at home smiling to myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My biggest fear is that I've disappointed people I love. I'm pretty sure my family and friends thought that I would have had a different life than the one I live now. I'm still a work in progress I guess. Don't start bugging yet this isn't a mid life crisis, and even if it was I dont think they'd call it a midlife crisis. I'm pretty sure you'd have to be atleast 40 to have one of those and I will DEFINITELY have things sorted out my then. New goals and new adventures are still to come. But isn't it funny how we think we have it all sorted out when we're younger and things never play out the way you thought it would. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-7046562983257447364?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/7046562983257447364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/12/around-corner.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/7046562983257447364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/7046562983257447364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/12/around-corner.html' title='Around the corner.'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-916371978023872511</id><published>2009-11-11T19:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T19:44:04.897-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Open Doors</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;"&gt;“I stood there is total amazement wondering if my eyes were deceiving me,” she said as she told me the story. “Can you believe that?”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;"&gt;Tina walked down the hall and into her living room when it suddenly dawned on her that she didn’t use her key to open the door. She quickly turned back to check the door; no signs of forced entry. She thought for a moment maybe her sister had left the door open in one of her hasty flights from the house. She thought to herself it’s a wonder she remembers to put clothes on before she leaves. Nothing seemed suspicious at first, as she took her heels off and headed to her bedroom, she was dying to get out of her work clothes and into her nightshirt and bed slippers. She had a book she was half way through and was dying to know how the story ended. She jumped out of the shower and into her nightshirt, her favourite, a man’s shirt that seemed to be made for an American football player and not for someone as petite as she.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;She made her way down stairs into the kitchen when she realised that the kitchen door was ajar as well. In a panic she hurriedly bolted the door and called her sister. The phone rang a few times but to no answer. She tried again but to no avail. At that time she decided maybe she should put some pants on and leave the house, it would be of no use to stay there and be so scared and all alone at that. She ran upstairs and pulled on a pair of blue jeans she had owned since college, pulled her hair into a ponytail, grabbed her keys and headed to the door. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;"&gt;“Tina!” her sister screamed from the darkness with frustration in her voice. Tina spun with such momentum that she flung her hands around and hit a vase from the hall table. She carefully followed little giggles and shuffles until she found herself back at the kitchen door. She pulled the door slowly and realised candles lined the walk way to the patio and as she followed them. “Surprise!” There they were; most of her friends from work, her family and some of the girls she went to school with. “Happy Birthday, Tina!” and out came the cake. “We were pretty sure you were on to us” said her sister, “I thought for sure we were busted when you realised that the kitchen door was open but how else would everyone get in the back yard?” She was so engrossed in her surprise party she didn’t even realise she was still in her nightshirt and bed slippers.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;There you go guys... my first short story :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-916371978023872511?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/916371978023872511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/11/open-doors.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/916371978023872511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/916371978023872511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/11/open-doors.html' title='Open Doors'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-1823155324010063017</id><published>2009-10-27T21:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T21:22:20.124-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Puzzle pieces</title><content type='html'>I think I'm waiting on for something to happen&lt;br /&gt;I can feel the pressure in my lungs building to crescendo,&lt;br /&gt;This patience is new to me I was never one to wait,&lt;br /&gt;But I'll wait&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is ridiculous,&lt;br /&gt;I don't even know what I'm waiting for or what my response should be.&lt;br /&gt;I've always been one to run scenarios through my mind&lt;br /&gt;How do you plan for the unknown?&lt;br /&gt;Still waiting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know there is a plan for me, someone has it,&lt;br /&gt;But who?&lt;br /&gt;Where is it?&lt;br /&gt;Impatiently waiting...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometime it gets so quiet around me when I work on this puzzle,&lt;br /&gt;I'm not even sure I have all the pieces.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-1823155324010063017?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/1823155324010063017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/10/puzzle-pieces.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/1823155324010063017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/1823155324010063017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/10/puzzle-pieces.html' title='Puzzle pieces'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-2760019370226022017</id><published>2009-10-21T17:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T17:34:07.912-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HAPPY BIRTHDAY NANDI!</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I was on messenger and glanced over at the calendar and realised that today would have been my friend Nandi's birthday. Today she would have been 26 years old. Young; I can remember her laugh and how it seemed to come from her toes. My friend.&lt;br /&gt;She died in 2002, the seven years flew I didnt even realise it was seven years already. Its almost like since she died I've buried someone either close to me or someone close to someone I am close to. Who would have tought I would start losing friends too soon, she was so young. Cancer is a bitch. I think about her and how she changed her life in the end. She was so strong.&lt;br /&gt;Nandi, I miss you my sister. I hope your rest is peaceful. I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-2760019370226022017?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/2760019370226022017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/10/happy-birthday-nandi.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/2760019370226022017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/2760019370226022017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/10/happy-birthday-nandi.html' title='HAPPY BIRTHDAY NANDI!'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-7974447449082569055</id><published>2009-10-13T19:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T20:12:30.268-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Updates</title><content type='html'>Ok, so I know i've been M.I.A for a while now, I appologise. Let me tell you what has been busying me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am back at school! I know you're smiling and thinking, "finally she has gotten her act together" and you would be right. I don't think I have been so focused schoolwise ever. When I get home I do my homework immediately ( to the point where sometimes I even forget I got homework), I read over my notes from the class, I even read extra. Now the extra reading is actually in an attempt to keep my lecturers on course because there are some people in my class that if you give them the chance they will lead the lecturer so far from the point that you dont even remember what they were talking about in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and my ankle is better. I twisted it during orientation which was more like bootcamp if you ask me and jus made it more obvious that I just need to keep my chin low and keep swinging if I plan to get through school. Idiots abound!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met someone but cut him off. They really dont make guys like they used to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatelse hmmm.... I got my laptop Yay! Its pretty and I loves it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made four new friends at school all of whom I have adopted as my children, i make sure they understand what is going on in the class, one of them tore the ligament in her knee so I usually help her around. We sit together all the time and we never get to be in the same group... sucks because I think they are serious about working too. I ALWAYS GET STUCK IN A GROUP WITH SOMEONE WHO DOESN'T WANT TO WORK!!! It's crazy, I dont know how it happens to me I even ended up in a Social Studies group with the resident psycho but that is a total different blog all together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So see I wasn't just sitting around doing nothing and ignoring you. I was busy and ignoring you! Hope that makes you feel better.&lt;br /&gt;Kisses!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-7974447449082569055?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/7974447449082569055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/10/updates.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/7974447449082569055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/7974447449082569055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/10/updates.html' title='Updates'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-7579425277540413795</id><published>2009-06-10T21:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T22:45:18.538-07:00</updated><title type='text'>People I guess.</title><content type='html'>Sometime I wonder where the time went... I mean its like I came home from a party and barely made it up the stairs before the sun was in my bedroom, fell asleep and woke up years later. I went through a phase where I was fairly popular and there wasn't a pan knocking and I wasn't there, now... now I get "Bombaat Chella! Is when you fly in?" Through all that time I've made some new friends, lost some good ones, replaced some fake ones and I am now left with a small group of people that I know will see me through anything life can throw at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its funny how some people you expect to be there forever somehow fade into oblivion when the sky gets dark and even funnier the ones you didn't expect to play any major role come and scrape you off the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alot of people grow up in a community and don't know their neighbours, my case is the complete opposite. We ALL ran up and down in the other ones house, ate dinner at the house who's menu sounded the best, all the mothers were willing to dress anyone's chipped knee and we never got in trouble alone. We were all a big family. Somewhere along the line the foundation of the friendships started to rot away and even though we'd all still go out together, everyone grew up and out and it never became apparent to me until I was involved in the nastiest break up I will ever be in. It was ugly and messy; he and I were so close for so long that I didn't know what life would have been like without him, I mean I couldn't picture not being able to call him to tell him how horrible a day I was having, the whole concept eluded me. I thought that if we ever did call it quits for good we could still be friends, silly, I know. I guess since he was one of "the brothers" they all decided to trun there back to the situation and didn't even realise I was not-so slowly slipping into a depression that ultimately contributed to me not even wanting to leave my room let alone my house. With everything though, my phone would bring and it would be my parrie from school and he was always up to chillin', we watched tv for hours and ate pizza and he never asked why I didn't go out anymore, but he was there. Brendan, you're a star! I don't even think he knew how depressed I was, or maybe he did and didn't bother to try to address it.&lt;br /&gt;When I finally decided I spent too much time sad one of "the brothers" went rogue and decided to ask me what exactly happened why I changed so much. He asked and I told him and loved and respected him more for even asking even if it took him long, Deno you will always have a special place in my heart and my respect for you will always be a little more than the rest, simply because you cared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" New broom sweep clean but ol' broom know di corna."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ava and I met at a birthday weekend celebration in 1st form and even though we didn't even go to the same high school its like we were always together. Literally if I bucked my toe Ava would know because I would call her and tell her and she'd know where I was and what I was doing when I bucked my toe, if it was bleeding, everything. She trully is my sister I tell her everything and even though we aren't in the geographically close anymore all those miles still can't prevent me from telling her about that guy I met or how tired I am of adding numbers at work. My sister for live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" There are sistrens and then there are sistrens"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P-K, and Sash if for nothing else they have provided ears to listen one for a little longer but both without judgement or ridicule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm stronger for them and more rounded for the people I chose to keep around. I'm calmer and more focused, but most of all they taught me that people will always show you what role their willing to play in your life and find the lesson they were there to teach you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-7579425277540413795?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/7579425277540413795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/06/people-i-guess.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/7579425277540413795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/7579425277540413795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/06/people-i-guess.html' title='People I guess.'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-2537881874125112814</id><published>2009-06-06T06:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-06T06:58:52.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reporting the news... LOL</title><content type='html'>Ok so I have some good news, some bad news and some duh news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good news is two of my grandmother's tests came back with no signs of cancer in her abdomen or bones so its isolated. PRAISE THE LORD!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More good news I'm going to the beach today, just me and mommy. I hope she doesn't try to get too presonal, yes she is my mother and all but there are some things I rather not discuss with her. If I was comfortable enough to tell her everything why would I need friends?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some bad news, I don't know how they did it but somehow my cousin in Atlanta fell in a step class and broke her foot in two places, and then my uncle ups her by falling off a chair breaking his nose and chin and chipping a tooth... all in the space of a week or so. I think someone took us to a "modda ooman." Salt eeh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the duh news, I love love love my ex-boyfriend, the more I "date" the more I come to the realisation of how much of a CATASTROPHIC mistake I made breaking up with him. I won't tell him because I think the relationship we have right is what he wants, really great friends. We tell eachother everything ( I probably shouldn't tell him about all these losers I've been seeing since we broke up... oops!) I miss him and I really wish the situation was different, maybe if he was here or I was there. I love him all the same, and cannot wait to see him when he comes down in August.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-2537881874125112814?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/2537881874125112814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/06/reporting-news-lol.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/2537881874125112814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/2537881874125112814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/06/reporting-news-lol.html' title='Reporting the news... LOL'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-7964009323974208930</id><published>2009-05-31T10:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T10:59:55.685-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Cherry Tree and Joycie</title><content type='html'>I have a cherry tree in my backyard, and we planted the tree out there so long ago I cant ever remember looking through my window and not seeing it. It was a gift from my godfather Uncle Jerry and I dont even know if he expected me to still have the tree. Well some time last year I realised that a parasite was growing in the tree, in the world of parasites I suppose this one was pretty bold it bloomed flowers and the leaves were noticeably different from those of the cherry tree. so one day after the whole tree looked to have been taken up with the parasite my father decided to go "clean the tree up". The one day project took 2 weekends and only left me with one branch on my precious chery tree. Now that I think about it I have to laugh... aah bwoy.&lt;br /&gt;A couple weeks ago it began raining for days on and off but consistantly the tree would get some rain water. Then I realised that all these new branches started to push out from practically nowhere, and the one branch that was left originally left is so laden with cherries that it almost looks like the tree is toppling over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recently learned my grandmother has breast cancer, and a part of me is scared shitless to say the least. It was just last year January that I buried my grandfather and even though we weren't so close I took comfort in knowing I could reach him when I wanted to. My relationship with my grandmother is the opposite I see her atleast 3 times a week now that I'm working with my aunt, and before that you can bet we were eating dinner at her house for Christmas, Easter, Mother's Day, Her Birthday, Father's Day, and alot of the time we'd gather for no other reason than because we can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our family is so close its often hard to tell how distant a cousin is because no matter how far a 4th cousin you are, you were at those gatherings and it all seems to revolve around my grandmother. It's easy to tell that she is the anchor in the McKenzie/Barnett family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She doesnt know it but she is my inspiration ( I suppose one day soon I'll tell her, definately before they start radiation treatment). Her sheer determination to make something of herself led to her going off to teacher's college (which I will be doing in August), writing so many Math books that sometimes I felt scared to fail Math throughout prep school and into the first parts of high school simply because I could find the answers in one of the books she wrote. Among other things she managed to raise her 6 children who all did well, helped raise her grandchildren and now is helping with her great grandchildren she did with and air of youth i suppose, because it was not until my cousin gave her her first great grandhild was I free to call her grandma because pre-greatgrand children grandma made her sound old, " Look child call me Aunty Joyce".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She doesn't even seem phased the strength of this woman. She goes to the doctors' offices and take the tests then goes rigth back to her school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow I know my grandmother and my cherry tree have the same spirit (if you will allow yourself to believe cherry trees have spirits). They'll take what they need to take off her, cut away the bad parts and then the rain will fall and she'll flourish and be so full of life she'll seem to tilt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-7964009323974208930?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/7964009323974208930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-cherry-tree-and-joycie.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/7964009323974208930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/7964009323974208930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-cherry-tree-and-joycie.html' title='My Cherry Tree and Joycie'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-9062598773583302694</id><published>2009-05-21T21:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T21:58:01.441-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts provoked.</title><content type='html'>Young and naive,&lt;br /&gt;thoughts reversed:&lt;br /&gt;I suppose I should be careful now...&lt;br /&gt;Now that I no longer believe in the fairy tales.&lt;br /&gt;I should take extra care with things as delicate as these.&lt;br /&gt;These broken things;&lt;br /&gt;and though I hope there is still beauty in broken things,&lt;br /&gt;I still pray my own delicate pieces dont fall apart,&lt;br /&gt;or even worse allow this new light to shine through the cracked spaces.&lt;br /&gt;thoughts wayward...&lt;br /&gt;There is some patience, wisdom maybe ( I am hoping to discover in myself)&lt;br /&gt;that will prove to help me rise above the "eggshell" footsteps I've been taking.&lt;br /&gt;thoughts, hopeful?&lt;br /&gt;There is a strength I will need to,&lt;br /&gt;to possibly look pass the imperfections,&lt;br /&gt;my inperfections,&lt;br /&gt;even through my thoughts of perfect.&lt;br /&gt;There is a slow strength, a kind of vision perhaps, to approach without hesitation (life)&lt;br /&gt;To recover from being young and naive...&lt;br /&gt;thoughts eternal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-9062598773583302694?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/9062598773583302694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/05/thoughts-provoked.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/9062598773583302694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/9062598773583302694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/05/thoughts-provoked.html' title='Thoughts provoked.'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-5599659422889710722</id><published>2009-05-09T13:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T21:55:16.810-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"Though I speak wtih the tongues of men and of angels, If i have not charity I am become a sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And though I have the gift of prophecy and understand all mysteries and all knowledge; and though I have all faith so that I can remove mountains and have not charity I am nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned and have not charity it profiteth me nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charity suffereth long and is kind, charity envieth not charity vaunteth not itself , is not puffed up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, not easily provoked thinketh no evil&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bareth all things believeth all things, hopeth all things endureth all things&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charity never faileth; but whether there be prophecies they shall fail; whether there are tongues they shall cease; whether there is knowledge it shall vanish away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For we know in part and we prophecy in part&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then that which is perfect is come then that which is in part shall be done away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was a child I spake as a child. I understood as a child, I thought as a child, but when I became a man I put away childish things&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now we se through a glass darkly, but face to face; now I know in part but then shall I know even as I am known&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now abideth faith, hope and charity these three but the greatest of these is charity"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Corinthians 13 .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favourite bible verse, if I were to get married I would want it read. I had to recite it often as a child and at the time I didn't realise that these words would guide me through life, thus far anyway. Charity has many definitions and among them is love. Its funny because even as I type I realise that if all this is true I have never known love. Not the love it describes anyway, a love that is non judgemental and unselfish. Maybe this love is only of God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God is such a sensitive topic for me, I see his hand in my life but often wonder that it could possibly be that he has been preparing me for... all these lessons, and failures, for what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to love...&lt;br /&gt;I have been in something that resembles love before, my thoughts seemed incomplete perhaps if somehow they didn't concern him. I promise never to love like that again. And now I find myself slipping slowly, and with much fighting and screaming, into something new. Where I have to acknowledge flaws especially my own... the way I viewed people and the situations I thought I'd never get into and my way of passing judgement without even a hint of what was really going on. Ignorance, I guess. But in my something new I find myself  trying (actively) to break habits I formed over time that totally did not work for me, habits that were ultimately the reason the something that resembled love really wasn't love at all...&lt;br /&gt;But I want that love they speak about, the one that endureth all things. I'll whisper a prayer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-5599659422889710722?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/5599659422889710722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/05/though-i-speak-wtih-tongues-of-men-and.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/5599659422889710722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/5599659422889710722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/05/though-i-speak-wtih-tongues-of-men-and.html' title=''/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-2039773915841167140</id><published>2009-03-27T22:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T22:33:32.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To Whom It May Concern.</title><content type='html'>I'll write this once and hopefully at the end I would have gotten it all out so that I will not feel the urge to think of you and how you're doing, or how intriguing our conversations were and how much I loved your laugh. I absolutely hate you in every sence of the word. You were a waste of my time and my emotions and I really wish I never fell in love with you, your conversations or your laugh. I feel like you always knew where you were leading me but I was so caught up with you that I didn't care as long as you took me, and that you did, you took of me until I was left with nothing of myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate seeing you and not so much because I cared for you so much but more because its uncomfortable for me.I hate being asked how you are. The mere mention of your name turns my stomach and I can literally feel my blood draw from my face, you leave me tired and listless.  To think how much I gave up for you, how much I gave up for us. I'd really like nothing more than to never EVER have to see you again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congratulations though because as hard as I fought you broke me and it really was mostly my doing becuase I was never able to let go when I should, and somehow silly me, I thought I was meant to be with you and even though everything pointed in the opposite direction I held on untill my fingers bled. I am bitter and hurt and its all your fault and there is nothing that makes me happier than knowing the world is round and you too will meet your Waterloo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel any better...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-2039773915841167140?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/2039773915841167140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/03/to-whom-it-may-concern.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/2039773915841167140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/2039773915841167140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/03/to-whom-it-may-concern.html' title='To Whom It May Concern.'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-3515294608243775125</id><published>2009-03-15T13:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T14:46:40.925-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Daggerin' Postponed! But what about Dancehall?</title><content type='html'>I don't know how much you know about what's going on here in Jamaica and the Broadcasting Commission's mission to clean up the airwaves, but before I start let me give you a brief over view. There is a song done by Kartel and Spice called Rampin' shop where they go into great details describing some rather aggresive sex, some radio disc jockeys decided since its hot in the streets they were going to beep out the expletives and play it. Truth is there is no cleaning up that song, there is no way to make it radio friendly because even though they dropped the "curse words" out the song is pretty suggestive, so any 6 year old that is semi exposed to the colourful language of Jamaican patios can connect the dots.&lt;br /&gt;Now this daggerin' phenomena is complicated, they use the word dagger in reference to sex (hence the whole Kartel and Spice song) daggerin is also a dance that strongly resembles rough sex, many artistes have done songs with mention of it, its pretty vulgar in my opinion not fit for general listening but completely acceptable in the dancehall even if you'd never find me "brukin out" like other people.&lt;br /&gt;Now comes the Broadcating Commissions hand in the pot:&lt;br /&gt;Anything with strong sexual content... BANNED!&lt;br /&gt;Anything with reference to violence, guns, condoning murdering people, rape etc. ...BANNED!&lt;br /&gt;Anything with any expletives... BANNED!&lt;br /&gt;There will be no "dropping" the word from the song, no beeping the curse words out, no playing the rythym over the "bad" parts.&lt;br /&gt;And this stands for all genres of music and television shows.&lt;br /&gt;What does this leave us with? About a handful of Soca songs, Hip Hop songs about being in the club, drinking, and making money... and dancehall, it leaves dancehall with a decision to make.&lt;br /&gt;Do we sing the songs twice with one version for the streets and one for the radio? Do we just abandon the streets and make everything mainstream? The reality of the situation is that you can take dancehall out of the streets but you can't take the streets out of dancehall, and if they want to hear themselves on the radio this is the opportunty of a lifetime, lets see how creative you can get. Its a time to see what else you know about other than girls and guns. I know many people see this as the Broadcasting Commission "boxing the bread" from the mouths of dancehall artiste, but with the way the music business is muddled with the introduction and continuous forward movement of technology having your songs on the radio doesn't equal success since people can download your songs. Meanwhile, many artistes get "discovered" on the internet with millions of fans and their names haven't even been mentioned on air.&lt;br /&gt;So to dancehall I say jus' do you, the ball is completely in your court and only the fittest will survive the overhall. I'm excited to see what this brings and impatiently awaiting new consciousness. Music is a strong means of reaching the masses and what is said is greatly influencial, chose your words and topics wisely Mr. Dancehall.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-3515294608243775125?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/3515294608243775125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/03/daggerin-postponed-but-what-about.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/3515294608243775125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/3515294608243775125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/03/daggerin-postponed-but-what-about.html' title='Daggerin&apos; Postponed! But what about Dancehall?'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-2881938397542556078</id><published>2009-02-08T20:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T10:24:03.687-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When I do it over... whenever that may be.</title><content type='html'>I have been the "single" friend for some time now, and after reading my friend's list of the 15 things he's looking for in a girl. I decided to make myself some promises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise to put me first, I have always sacrificed myself for what I thought was the greater good of the relationship without realising that I ended up resenting the person for not putting my needs on the list of things to address.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise to give someone outside of my type a chance. I did it before and I think he is the first genuine love of my life, I regret the break up but what is meant to be will be. Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise to take the advice of my friends with a grain of salt. Many relationships fail because other people have too much input in what is going on without having full knowledge of the circumstances that led to whatever it is that made us not be seeing eye to eye at that particular time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise to still spend time with my friends and not spend my every waking moment with you or talking about you or thinking about you, for my sanity and yours, I promise to have a life outside of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise to try not to jump to conclusions. Its a horrible habit I have, I'm usually wrong but it just speaks to my insecurities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise to try to make you feel at home with my family. They're crazy but they are the reason I am who I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise to try to get along with your family and friends, even if mine are better :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise not to judge you by your mistakes before me, I will be mindful of them but I promise not to punish you for your past sins and I'll ask you to do the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise not to hate you in the end because really you were sent to teach me something I need to learn before my next step forward.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-2881938397542556078?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/2881938397542556078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/02/when-i-do-it-over-whenever-that-may-be.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/2881938397542556078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/2881938397542556078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/02/when-i-do-it-over-whenever-that-may-be.html' title='When I do it over... whenever that may be.'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-671901623167079484</id><published>2009-02-05T18:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-21T11:37:28.088-07:00</updated><title type='text'>waiting for inspiration</title><content type='html'>I really have nothing to write about, I usually write when I'm feeling extreme emotions, you know that anger than burns your eyelids when you blink or that happinesss that makes you smile in your sleep, thats usually when I write. Somehow in the middle of feeling whatever it is that I'm feeling I pull out my note book ( its so not my style its pink and covered in flowers and I think on my list of favourite colours pink is maybe number 12 with a bunch of shades of greens and blues and even purples before it but the book was a gift and I love it) and I just write it as best as I can capture it. Its funny because I can just read it and remember exactly how I felt when I wrote it, its my memory keeper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But lately, lately I've been pretty void of emotion, other than the occasional dissapointment in something not working out the way I thought it would I really haven't had anything of inspiration. Frankly I think its sad, my life has become so monotonous that there is nothing to really get excited about, and at the tender age of 24. Gone too soon. All I do is go to work (where might I add I am grossly underpaid, overworked and unappreciated) come home and watch tv or read, sleep and do it all over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont even think I miss being in a relationship and for someone that hasn't been single for longer than a couple months that is something, not quiet an accomplishment but something worthy of mention I think or maybe I do a little; I don't know. I think I miss that feeling you get when you know when you're about to see them and its new and you're kind of nervous but really happy and you just cant wait for that hug that just consumes your whole body... I feel like I'm just existing, just floating and bouncing against living things but not really living myself just here. This is so unlike me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm steady waiting for something new to happen, I know its coming but why is it taking so long?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-671901623167079484?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/671901623167079484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/02/waiting-for-inspiration.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/671901623167079484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/671901623167079484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/02/waiting-for-inspiration.html' title='waiting for inspiration'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5563376048647461307.post-1155183141136605679</id><published>2009-02-05T18:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T18:30:28.780-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Me.</title><content type='html'>I'm moody, and very opinionated. I cry too easily and I think I can be too hard on myself from time to time. I love writing and I suppose its the reason I decided to blog.&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5563376048647461307-1155183141136605679?l=chella-lbella.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/feeds/1155183141136605679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/02/me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/1155183141136605679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5563376048647461307/posts/default/1155183141136605679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chella-lbella.blogspot.com/2009/02/me.html' title='Me.'/><author><name>ChellaBella</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17844943556622159742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-NuEJCn_UI/Sd-yGqjlm_I/AAAAAAAAAA0/K6RS2_kA15Q/S220/me+agen!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
