<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884</id><updated>2009-03-20T09:20:29.585-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Personal Expressions</title><subtitle type='html'>This is for me to get some things off my chest. Maybe to get some opions too.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>30</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-7156327</id><published>2001-11-15T16:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-15T16:07:58.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>When a human clone is created will it have a soul?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:second_chance2@hotmail.com"&gt; comments/ suggestions &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-7156327?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/7156327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/7156327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_11_11_archive.html#7156327' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-7122070</id><published>2001-11-14T11:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-14T11:56:33.863-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Why can't people just remember that people react to others actions. So if I was to get mad at somebody then it is probably because of what that person did. What is so hard to comprehend about that statement. Now if you get mad because I am mad at you then just go and fuck yourself numb nuts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-7122070?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/7122070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/7122070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_11_11_archive.html#7122070' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-7122012</id><published>2001-11-14T11:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-14T11:53:43.173-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Try to describe yourself in 3 words, nothing physical. Then ask your friends to do the same. I bet you that what you get will be entirely different. You may even laugh. Remember be as honest as possible.&lt;br /&gt;That is just some bullshit that was on the radio the other day that was making me laugh with some of the shit they came up with. I tried it last night with jen and the things she came up with were not what I was thinking of. I started to laugh at her with what she said.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-7122012?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/7122012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/7122012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_11_11_archive.html#7122012' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-6952871</id><published>2001-11-07T16:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-07T16:14:48.570-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I heard back from Anna today. She seemed like she was pretty happy to hear from me as was I.&lt;br /&gt;When I write emails I dont know what to say. I guess that goes back to me being quiet and not talking much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-6952871?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6952871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6952871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_11_04_archive.html#6952871' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-6893884</id><published>2001-11-05T15:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-05T15:23:20.506-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Went to play golf yesterday, that damn game is so hard. I need some more practice. Maybe I should get out there more often. &lt;br /&gt;Why do I subject myself to this misery? What the hell is wrong with me? I need to make some changes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-6893884?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6893884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6893884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_11_04_archive.html#6893884' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-6824445</id><published>2001-11-02T16:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-02T16:44:51.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Why does my life seem so stagnant? I need to make some changes. Need a little spice in my life. Some trouble will do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;The thing that takes the least amount of time and causes the most amount of trouble is sex.&lt;/i&gt; &lt;br /&gt;May I please get in trouble?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-6824445?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6824445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6824445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_10_28_archive.html#6824445' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-6798588</id><published>2001-11-01T16:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-01T16:46:07.580-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Why do I always laugh at other peoples misery/ expense? I find that the funniest. To see others in pain or to hurt themselves is so damn funny.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-6798588?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6798588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6798588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_10_28_archive.html#6798588' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-6740294</id><published>2001-10-30T14:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-10-30T14:36:07.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I read some peoples blogs and see what they have to say. It seems that my blogs are so meaningless to some of the others that I read. Maybe it just shows that kind of personality I have. Nothing really seems to get to me. Just take things how they come. Where as others are more concerned with their actions and what goes on around them. &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;You cant control everything&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt; is basically the moto that I live by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=mailto:second_chance2@hotmail.com&gt; comments/suggestions &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-6740294?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6740294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6740294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_10_28_archive.html#6740294' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-6740213</id><published>2001-10-30T14:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-10-30T14:32:13.943-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Just got back from Las Vegas. DRA was cool, wish there was more interactive things though. I am truly addicted to gambling. I love to gamble. I think that I need to go back already. OK if not Vegas then how about Reno? Staying up until 4 in the morning and then waking up at 8 has really caught up to me now that I am back at work.&lt;br /&gt;I met a couple people that are on Mixture. I dont remember their names though. They werent even gambling. I dont understand. You go to Vegas, but not to gamble? What do you go for then?&lt;br /&gt;Saw a bunch of celebrities, Jay-Z, the Rock, Sam Casell, Ray Allen. The others are not too famous. Are you the kind of person to walk up to a celebrity and ask for a picture or autograph? not me. Jay Z was an asshole though. He didnt sign an autograph for a dude, only these 2 girls. It was funny though. I was sitting at a table next to him and watching the people that would look at him and approach him, just people reactions in general. This one older white lady was sitting at the black jack table with him and had absolutely no idea who he was. Her expressions were priceless to watch. The Rock seemed like a cool guy. He was playing slot machines. He is shorter than I thought that he would be.&lt;br /&gt;That is about all it that is going on for me right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-6740213?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6740213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6740213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_10_28_archive.html#6740213' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-6592202</id><published>2001-10-24T16:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-24T16:07:58.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Why cant I just have the nuts to walk up to a girl and talk to her? Why am I such a pussy?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-6592202?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6592202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6592202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_10_21_archive.html#6592202' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-6592185</id><published>2001-10-24T16:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-24T16:07:11.373-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Why do some peole always have to be right? Those are usually the same people that never take fault for their actions. It is always somebody elses fault. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-6592185?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6592185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6592185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_10_21_archive.html#6592185' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-6565948</id><published>2001-10-23T16:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-23T17:00:41.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Check this out. On Friday I went to Jollibee in Union City. A fast food Filipino restaurant. This girl caught me looking at her, and smiled. So I smiled back, just a friendly smile. Now I continue to check her out while I am eating and keep noticing her glancing over at me. One time we made eye contact and she smiled. Now I dont know whether or not she was smiling because she liked the attention I gave her or if she thought I was good looking like I thought she was. That is what bugs my mind. I just dont know about females sometimes, dont know whether or not they like the attention or if they are really just looking at me. Who knows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:second_chance2@hotmail.com"&gt; comments/ answers &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-6565948?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6565948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6565948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_10_21_archive.html#6565948' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-6565853</id><published>2001-10-23T16:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-23T16:54:47.620-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I dont know about you Mary but you look fucking good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-6565853?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6565853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6565853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_10_21_archive.html#6565853' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-6467704</id><published>2001-10-19T13:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-19T13:58:16.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;anger, misery, you'll suffer unto me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Harvester of Sorrow&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-6467704?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6467704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6467704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_10_14_archive.html#6467704' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-6444329</id><published>2001-10-18T15:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-18T15:43:51.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h3&gt; Fuck this Title Shit &lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cant wait for the weekend. I hate weekdays! only because of work though. I really hate Thursday evenings though because of the class I have. I cant stand the teacher. You know those teachers that just babble about nothing? That is the type of teacher I have tonight. Absolutely boring. Makes me want to pull out my hair just for entertainment.&lt;br /&gt;I dont really have much going on right now, just another fucking boring day. I am looking forward to going to Vegas next weekend though. Cant wait for that.&lt;br /&gt;Damn Mary, I like your hat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:second_chance2@hotmail.com"&gt; comments/suggestions &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-6444329?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6444329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6444329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_10_14_archive.html#6444329' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-6390223</id><published>2001-10-16T16:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-16T16:06:19.086-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h3&gt; Ramblings &lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today is worst than Monday in terms of work. I am bored. I wish that I could chat, but this fucking firewall is killing me. I need to find a job that has room for advancement, not this dead end shit. &lt;br /&gt;I wish that I was out riding motorcycles right now rather than stranded here at work. I am jealous because that is what my friend is doing. On the contrary he is also out of work.&lt;br /&gt;I had class last night, and my classmate is so damn fine. I have so much to talk about in my head when I am at home, then I forget what to say when it comes time to type. That shit always happens to me. I need something to trigger it. Like what Mary seems to do quite frequently. Thanks. Later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-6390223?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6390223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6390223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_10_14_archive.html#6390223' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-6360807</id><published>2001-10-15T14:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-15T14:14:49.610-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h3&gt; Definition of a Man?&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can somebody tell me what exactly defines a man? I have my own opinion on what defines one. Is it how you take care of your household? your wife/girlfriend? What the fuck is it? Please tell me!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;It looks as if my relationship is now over with my girlfriend. I am kind of happy but also kind of sad. More excited though. Excited that I can now not worry about what the hell she has to say to me for every action I do. I can now relax and come off of my guard. She did teach me a lot about being a better person and showed me the meaning of what it is to care for somebody unconditionally. Which I am grateful. She also showed me what it means to judge somebody. Which I hate. So therefore I dont judge anybody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:second_chance2@hotmail.com"&gt; comments/suggestions &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-6360807?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6360807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6360807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_10_14_archive.html#6360807' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-6295851</id><published>2001-10-12T14:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-12T14:01:59.330-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I dont know what to name this line of shit that I am spitting out. So I wont label it anything. What the hell is wrong with kids these days? They are so damn disrespectful, I cant believe some of the things that they do. &lt;br /&gt;I am looking forward to the weekend. I dont know what I am going to do but I dont have to be here at this shithole, aka work. I need to redo my resume, but I am not very good at them. I suck actually, so does the market. So I dont know what to do. I cant stand my job, there arent many jobs out there right now so I am kind of in a bind. Maybe that is what I will do this weekend. I will work on my resume. &lt;br /&gt;I see that people just surf the internet all day and night. Sometimes I wish that I could do that, but I never have time. Anyways who ever in the hell is reading this, if anyone, have a nice weekend. I hope to chat to you soon Mary if I can find a way around this fucking firewall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:second_chance2@hotmail.com"&gt; comments/suggestions &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-6295851?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6295851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6295851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6295851' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-6269953</id><published>2001-10-11T13:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-11T13:21:15.133-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h3&gt; Live Your Life &lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why cant people live life they want to? People always feel that they have the right to judge somebody else. Those people seem to always have something to hide from the rest of us. I really dont understand it, can somebody please explain it to me? I cant stand that, I just want to tell those people to mind their own fucking business and go and clean out your own closet before you come in looking at mine. Mother Fucker!&lt;br /&gt;The contrary point to that one is the people that live their life to please others. For instance my girlfriends sister lives to please her parents rather than herself. I hate that shit. You cant make anybody else happy until you make yourself happy. Later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:second_chance2@hotmail.com"&gt; comments/suggestions &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-6269953?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6269953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6269953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6269953' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-6269717</id><published>2001-10-11T13:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-11T13:11:38.933-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h3&gt; Feelings &lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man you wouldnt believe what happened to me. NOTHING! It is just another day except for Mary made my day by emailing me. Sometimes I wonder why I have a girlfriend and others I know why. I hate that feeling. I wish that I could remain single sometimes just so I know what to expect out of each day. For instance, I can wake up be in the best mood and have the brightest outlook then hear Jen say the most negative thing now my day fucking sucks. I wish that I could not be affected by SIGNIFICANT others feelings'. That would make my life just so much easier. Call me selfish or lazy or whatever your little heart decides to come up with but that is just me. Later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:second_chance2@hotmail.com"&gt; comments/suggestions &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-6269717?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6269717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6269717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6269717' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-6246436</id><published>2001-10-10T15:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-10T15:20:53.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h3&gt; Ramblings &lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I havent had that bad of a day at work. I took almost 2 hours for my lunch. Where I went skateboarding, which was fun. I like to skate through Berkeley because of all of the different people that you encounter. Lots of girls to look at which I dont mind at all. I stopped by a tattoo shop to check out his work. It was pretty good. I think that I am going to go there. &lt;br /&gt;What else has been going on? Nothing really, just continue to read Mary's page to see her thoughts. I thought the dildo story was pretty funny. If you are reading this, Hi Mary! &lt;br /&gt;You know what I hate? I hate it when people think that they are so poetic and try to write it. And it SUCKS! Most of the time it is not clever and doesnt even make sense. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:second_chance2@hotmail.com"&gt; comments/suggestions &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-6246436?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6246436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6246436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6246436' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-6222466</id><published>2001-10-09T15:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-09T15:02:42.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h3&gt; Its Been A While &lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow. It has been a while since I last posted on here. I havent had any internet for the past couple of weeks. Nothing new has really happened except me being sick. One other thing has occured though. I think that I really like my classmate though. She is damn fine and really nice too. There have been so many people sick recently, including me. I usually dont get sick either. But I recovered in only a couple of days compared to everyone elses two weeks. Nothing has really been new though. I will update tomorrow on how I feel. Today I am just kind of here. Nothing special. I am glad that we are bombing Afghanistan though. Fucking bastards! Later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:second_chance2@hotmail.com"&gt; comments/suggestions &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-6222466?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6222466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/6222466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6222466' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-5889356</id><published>2001-09-24T15:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-09-24T15:09:16.440-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h3&gt; Ramblings &lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is just one of those Mondays where all I want to do is sleep. Now that the heat is on over here too.  I know once I get off work I will have tons of energy. I am kind of excited to go to class tonight because of my partner for my labs, Lisa. Her lips are so kissable. Her neck is so soft and sexy. Too bad she has a boyfriend and I have a girlfriend. &lt;br /&gt;Not much is going on new right now, just the same old shit. I wish that I could still conversate with ylogics, but oh well. I enjoy talking to her because I am interested in her views. I wish that I could use AIM here at work but the god damned firewall prevents that. Later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:second_chance2@hotmail.com"&gt; comments/suggestions &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-5889356?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/5889356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/5889356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_09_23_archive.html#5889356' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-5834106</id><published>2001-09-21T16:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-09-21T16:10:44.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h3&gt; Easily Offended? &lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that because some people deal with others that are easily offended they think that all are that way? I was having a discussion with somebody and they thought that I got offended. For me to be offended, or have my feelings hurt you would need to hit me over the head with a bat. I dont know what has caused this, but it seems that people say things that would offend somebody and I would just take it like any other statement. I actually appreciate when somebody is forward and tells me the way that things are. That is the way that I am, so I expect it in return.  Have a good weekend! I hope we continue to email each other, I am interested in talking to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:second_chance2@hotmail.com"&gt; comments/suggestions &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-5834106?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/5834106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/5834106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_09_16_archive.html#5834106' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3146884.post-5806460</id><published>2001-09-20T10:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-09-20T10:47:09.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h3&gt; DEATH &lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do people really live in fear of death? Then they are not really living. It is a fact of life that everybody MUST die, unless you are the fucking Highlander. haha People restrict their life in order to live longer. Of course nobody wants to die, but if I must go then I must go. I am not going to change my lifestyle in fear of death. For instance, people are now scared to fly. WHY??? Is the chance of terrorism more likely to happen now? NO. It is just in the spotlight right now. It seems everybody has forgoten about all of the plane crashes that were occuring. Now it is terrorism. If you are so fucking scared of death then dont fucking go outside or travel. Fuck just shut the hell up about it. You fucking pussy!  You are going to die so get over it and live your life while you are here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:second_chance2@hotmail.com"&gt; comments/suggestions &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3146884-5806460?l=secondchance.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/5806460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3146884/posts/default/5806460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://secondchance.blogspot.com/2001_09_16_archive.html#5806460' title=''/><author><name>Second</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07501528505083973777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544828503149373716'/></author></entry></feed>