<?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-8157862678509179626</id><updated>2011-07-07T18:17:53.854-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't tell me if I'm dying, because I don't wanna know.  If I can't see the sun, maybe I should go.</title><subtitle type='html'>Don't wake me cause I'm dreaming, of angels on the moon.  Where everyone you know, never leaves too soon</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8157862678509179626/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>the name's leigh.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13662641993231599028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157862678509179626.post-5844022782683303760</id><published>2009-01-08T13:16:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T13:40:21.277-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just my opinion...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://helpfindcaylee.usualbeings.com/galleryimages/27-lg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 473px; height: 559px;" src="http://helpfindcaylee.usualbeings.com/galleryimages/27-lg.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting at lunch with my dad today and something about Casey Anthony came on the news.  Well, for those of you who don't know, Casey Anthony killed her daughter, Caylee Anthony.  I don't understand how you could kill an innocent child.  A beautiful little girl, just three years old.  Someone would have GLADLY adopted that little girl if Casey was so eager to get rid of her.  The fact that she didn't report that her own daughter was missing after a month wasn't enough of a hint that Casey did it??  Casey's mother said that her daughter's car smelled like a dead body.  Casey claimed that the smell was old pizza.  (Because pizza and rotting corpses smell SO much alike.) Casey then stated that Caylee had been with a babysitter.   The police found the alleged babysitter and the woman said she had never heard of the two.  So, on December 11th, a meter man found a trash bag of human remains in the woods.  The skull had duct tape on it.  Traces of chloroform were found in Casey's trunk. Searches of the uses of chloroform were found on her computer.  Casey was later charged with first degree murder of her daughter.  How could you do that to a child???  Wrap her with duct tape, put her in a trash bag, and kill her with chloroform.  If that's what she wanted to do to "get rid" of her daughter, then that's what we should do to get rid of her.  NO ONE SHOULD GET AWAY WITH KILLING ANYONE.  It's not right.  Especially a child.  A beautiful, innocent, darling little girl that someone who can't have children would have loved unconditionally.  Excuse me if I sound a little harsh, but a mother killing her child because she wanted to get rid of her should be severely punished.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8157862678509179626-5844022782683303760?l=thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com/feeds/5844022782683303760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8157862678509179626&amp;postID=5844022782683303760' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8157862678509179626/posts/default/5844022782683303760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8157862678509179626/posts/default/5844022782683303760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com/2009/01/just-my-opinion.html' title='Just my opinion...'/><author><name>the name's leigh.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13662641993231599028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157862678509179626.post-6578456719350598695</id><published>2008-11-16T14:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T14:57:37.829-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Somewhere over the rainbow..</title><content type='html'>I'm regretting deciding to stay at home for college.  I don't really think that's what I want to do after all.  I hate it here.  I hate that I'm reprimanded for no reason at all.  I don't want to be here anymore.  I want to leave.  I want to be on stage and do what I love.  I want to live on my own.  My parents think that I'm this awful child that does bad things.  I'm the bad child.  I'm tired of this.  I don't want to be treated like a child.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8157862678509179626-6578456719350598695?l=thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com/feeds/6578456719350598695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8157862678509179626&amp;postID=6578456719350598695' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8157862678509179626/posts/default/6578456719350598695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8157862678509179626/posts/default/6578456719350598695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com/2008/11/somewhere-over-rainbow.html' title='Somewhere over the rainbow..'/><author><name>the name's leigh.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13662641993231599028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157862678509179626.post-4449222168554052411</id><published>2008-11-05T16:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T16:34:39.277-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Know the facts.</title><content type='html'>I'm so tired of hearing about politics.  So what?  Obama won.  Yeah, I'm extremely happy that he did.  Why is it that when people hear OBAMA they think BABY KILLER.  Just because he's a democrat does NOT mean that he's a baby killer.  Who are we to judge him?  And don't be a racist either.  Stupid people are saying "oh well, he only won because he's black".  Whoo, big deal. &lt;br /&gt;The NUMBER ONE topic amongst my friends is abortion.  Oh well, Obama is for abortion.  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;These are from the actual websites.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John McCain--&lt;span class="issues_maintext"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;John McCain believes Roe v. Wade is a flawed decision that must be overturned&lt;/span&gt;, and as president he will nominate judges who understand that courts should not be in the business of legislating from the bench.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="issues_maintext"&gt;However, the reversal of Roe v. Wade represents only one step in the long path toward ending abortion. Once the question is returned to the states, the fight for life will be one of courage and compassion - the courage of a pregnant mother to bring her child into the world and the compassion of civil society to meet her needs and those of her newborn baby.&lt;br /&gt;Barack Obama--&lt;/span&gt;Barack Obama understands that abortion is a divisive issue, and respects those who disagree with him. However,&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; he has been a consistent champion of reproductive choice and will make preserving women's rights under Roe v. Wade a priority as President&lt;/span&gt;. He opposes any constitutional amendment to overturn the Supreme Court's decision in that case.  Barack Obama is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;an original co-sponsor of legislation to expand access to contraception, health information and preventive services to help reduce unintended pregnancies&lt;/span&gt;. Introduced in January 2007, the Prevention First Act will increase&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; funding for family planning and comprehensive sex education that teaches both abstinence and safe sex methods. The Act will also end insurance discrimination against contraception, improve awareness about emergency contraception, and provide compassionate assistance to rape victims.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Wow.  He's SUCH a baby-killer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wish people would find out the facts before they open their mouths.  I want to be able to hold an intelligent conversation with someone without feeling like I'm going to be bashed for my opinions.  Yeah, if I could have voted I WOULD have voted for Obama.  I agree more with his views on major issues.   Don't bash someone for their opinions.  I'm pretty sure there's this little thing called "Freedom of Speech" and it's been around for a while.  Maybe you should look that up.&lt;br /&gt;So unless you know the actual issues, keep your mouth shut. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8157862678509179626-4449222168554052411?l=thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com/feeds/4449222168554052411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8157862678509179626&amp;postID=4449222168554052411' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8157862678509179626/posts/default/4449222168554052411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8157862678509179626/posts/default/4449222168554052411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com/2008/11/know-facts.html' title='Know the facts.'/><author><name>the name's leigh.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13662641993231599028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157862678509179626.post-5519060192902959881</id><published>2008-10-09T17:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T17:28:21.689-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And tomorrow, it's a little overwhelming...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I have to make an important decision soon.  One that will effect my entire life.  I have to be brave when I choose what I'm going to do.  It seems silly, but I have to choose a college.  I have people in my ear telling me to go away for college.  I have people telling me to stay around here, that I can't make it on my own.  I did go visit Shorter yesterday.  Honestly, I hated it.  I hated the dorms, I hated the campus, and I just don't think I would fit in there.  I don't know what I want to do.  But this is my time, and I have to do what I think is best for me.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You have no power over my decision.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; And I might still cry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; And I might still bleed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; These thorns in my side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; This heart on my sleeve&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; And lightening may strike &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; This ground at my feet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; And I might still crash&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; But I still believe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; This is the moment I stand here all alone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; With everything I have inside, everything I own&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; I might be afraid &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; But it's my turn to be brave&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; If this is the last time before we say goodbye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; At least it's the first day of the rest of my life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; I can't be afraid &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Cause it's my turn to be brave&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/8157862678509179626-5519060192902959881?l=thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com/feeds/5519060192902959881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8157862678509179626&amp;postID=5519060192902959881' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8157862678509179626/posts/default/5519060192902959881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8157862678509179626/posts/default/5519060192902959881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com/2008/10/and-tomorrow-its-little-overwhelming.html' title='And tomorrow, it&apos;s a little overwhelming...'/><author><name>the name's leigh.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13662641993231599028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157862678509179626.post-8864642945042713255</id><published>2008-09-27T13:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-27T13:09:17.620-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Looking back.</title><content type='html'>If someone had told me this time last year how happy I would be now, I wouldn't have believed them.  I was happy last year, sure.  But this year is just different.  I wake up every morning excited about life.  I know something good is going to happen and I look forward to it.  If someone had told me that I would be involved in a choir that is second best in the country, I probably would have laughed.  Choir is my life, as nerdy as that sounds.  I love it, I love the people, I love my director.  Heck, I even love the freshman choir.  They're so cute when they come to me for advice, or I get on myspace and see that like four of them have added me.  It makes me feel like a positive influence when they come to me with advice on boys.  I can't imagine a more beautiful life.  Sure, my life is crazy.  I work, I keep good grades, I study, I'm in choir, I'm president of Key Club, tons of stuff.  But no matter how hectic my life is, I can't imagine that I could want it any other way.  I know that I will go to sleep happy and wake up feeling the exact same way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8157862678509179626-8864642945042713255?l=thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com/feeds/8864642945042713255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8157862678509179626&amp;postID=8864642945042713255' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8157862678509179626/posts/default/8864642945042713255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8157862678509179626/posts/default/8864642945042713255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com/2008/09/looking-back.html' title='Looking back.'/><author><name>the name's leigh.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13662641993231599028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157862678509179626.post-7696775393098471931</id><published>2008-09-25T17:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T18:04:21.311-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't wake me cause I'm dreaming of angels on the moon.</title><content type='html'>My brother made me a new cd before he went back to Tennessee Wesleyan last week.  I was skimming through the songs in my car one morning on the way to school, and one caught my attention.  This song is called Angels on the Moon and it's by Thriving Ivory.  I absolutely love this song.  It makes me feel so free when I listen to it.  To me, the song is saying live life how you want to live it, but make sure you're doing everything you want to do because you might not have another day.  My favorite great aunt was recently rediagnosed with cancer.  (I know there's a word for that, but I can't think of it right now.)  So my thoughts right now are a little scattered.  First she had a brain tumor and lost all of her hair from treatments.  She proudly wore her wig to church every Sunday and thanked God for all she had.  Now she has breast cancer.  This aunt lives how she wants.  She was in love with a man until the day he died, and I have no doubt in my mind she still loves him.  I would go visit her and we'd sit around drinking Coke and eating chips because that's what she wanted to eat.  She said she was old enough to do what she wanted and she wanted to eat junk food.  When I left, she gave me five dollars and a bag of chocolate because that's what teenage girls like.  Money and chocolate. &lt;br /&gt;So this song, Angels on the Moon is saying to me that I need to do what I need to do.  I listen to it everywhere I go.  I hear it in my head when I'm not really listening to it.  I want so much in life, and I know I don't have to be afraid of it ending too soon because I live my life how I want to live it.  How else would you?  Life is crazy.  So what?  I know that I'm loved for being me, and I don't have to pretend to be something I'm not. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Do you dream, that the world will know your name?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; So tell me your name&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And do you care, about all the little things or anything at all?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I wanna feel, all the chemicals inside I wanna feel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I wanna sunburn, just to know that I'm alive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; To know I'm alive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Don't tell me if I'm dying, 'cause I don't wanna know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; If I can't see the sun, maybe I should go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Don't wake me 'cause I'm dreaming, of angels on the moon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Where everyone you know, never leaves too soon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Do you believe, in the day that you were born?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Tell me, do you believe?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And do you know, that everyday's the first of the rest of your life?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Don't tell me if I'm dying, 'cause I don't wanna know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; If I can't see the sun, maybe I should go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Don't wake me 'cause I'm dreaming, of angels on the moon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Where everyone you know, never leaves too soon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; This is to one last day in the shadows&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And to know a brother's love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; This is to New York City angels&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And the rivers of our blood&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; This is to all of us, to all of us&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; So don't tell me if I'm dying, 'cause I don't wanna know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; If I can't see the sun, maybe I should go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Don't wake me cause I'm dreaming, of angels on the moon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Where everyone you know, never leaves too soon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Yeah, you can tell me all your thoughts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; About the stars that fill polluted skies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And show me where you run to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; When no one's left to take your side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; But don't tell me where the road ends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; 'Cause I just don't wanna know, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; No I don't wanna know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Don't tell me if I'm dying&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Don't tell me if I'm dying&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Don't tell me if I'm dying&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8157862678509179626-7696775393098471931?l=thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com/feeds/7696775393098471931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8157862678509179626&amp;postID=7696775393098471931' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8157862678509179626/posts/default/7696775393098471931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8157862678509179626/posts/default/7696775393098471931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com/2008/09/dont-wake-me-cause-im-dreaming-of.html' title='Don&apos;t wake me cause I&apos;m dreaming of angels on the moon.'/><author><name>the name's leigh.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13662641993231599028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157862678509179626.post-7322095389546087042</id><published>2008-09-24T13:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T14:12:07.829-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Friends versus Best Friends</title><content type='html'>Have you ever had people that you thought were your friends?  And you hung out together, had some of the same classes, and laughed at things you all though were funny?  Then come to find out, they make fun of you behind your back, talk about you, and then sometimes make fun of you to your face and in front of all your other friends?  I'm sure you have.  I don't get why I keep these people around.  Yeah, I make stupid jokes that no one laughs at.  I can't dance.  I can't help it.  You don't have to point out my faults.  I know I'm not very funny and I can't dance and a TON of other things.  I don't need you to make fun of me.  I don't even know why I keep you around.  I just started to realize where I belong.  And obviously, you're going to make fun of me no matter what.  I'm so tired of it.  I'm so tired of you sitting there, blatantly making fun of me.  Then you turn around and say 'oh you know I was just kidding'.  No, actually I didn't.  I'm so tired of you and your condescending attitude toward me.  I'm tired of you making me feel so unwanted.  You make fun of me for knowing answers to things.  I'm SO sorry I study and actually care about my grades.  I want to do something with my life.  I'm not gonna sit around here and do nothing.  I have goals that I want to reach.  So I'm growing up, studying, reaching, and moving on.  Maybe you can do the growing up part.  I love you, we've been best friends since 8th grade.  But somehow, we seem to be moving at different maturity rates.  We have to get along, but stop teasing me about how stupid I am, or how I can't dance.  I know what I can't do, you do &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; have to point them out to me.  There's much bigger things to worry about in life than my faults.&lt;br /&gt;I do, however, have friends that stand by me through whatever.  I know I can count on them.  I know they're always there for me.  I love them so much.  So for those of you who have stuck by me, i love you.  You mean so much.  You know who you are.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8157862678509179626-7322095389546087042?l=thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com/feeds/7322095389546087042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8157862678509179626&amp;postID=7322095389546087042' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8157862678509179626/posts/default/7322095389546087042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8157862678509179626/posts/default/7322095389546087042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com/2008/09/friends-versus-best-friends.html' title='Friends versus Best Friends'/><author><name>the name's leigh.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13662641993231599028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157862678509179626.post-5076763542705283254</id><published>2008-09-23T16:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T16:31:02.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Confusion</title><content type='html'>I just feel like I need to get all this out.  I can't stop thinking about how much my parents push me.  They want me to go to Shorter for one reason, and it isn't going to happen.  I am in love with the man I know I'm going to spend the rest of my life with.  He's my everything.  I can't understand why they can't get it through their heads that I am with the one that I want.  I have everything I could ever want or need with him.  I know that everything is right with us, and I wouldn't trade what we have for the world.  I want to wake up every morning with him by my side.  I want him to come home to me at night and tell me how much he loves me.  And that he loves me more, and we'll argue about stupid stuff.  We argue..a lot.  But that's just what we do.  We argue, get mad, then we fall in love with each other all over again.  He holds me when I cry, he tells me everything is going to be okay, and even if it isn't I still have him.  He's my world.  He's my future.  He's my everything.  To borrow a line from Michael Buble, "you're every song, and I sing along, cause you're my everything".  I loved him yesterday, I love him now, I'll love him tomorrow.  You can't stop the rhythm of two hearts in love.  People said we wouldn't work.  Look where we are, almost a year together and we're head over heels for each other.  Don't tell me what kind of person he is, I'm positive I know him better than you do.  I know he has his faults, but I do too.  We're still in love, and nothing can change that.  Don't try to come between us, because you'll end up looking dumb.  We are totally in love and no one, not even my parents, can change that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8157862678509179626-5076763542705283254?l=thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com/feeds/5076763542705283254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8157862678509179626&amp;postID=5076763542705283254' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8157862678509179626/posts/default/5076763542705283254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8157862678509179626/posts/default/5076763542705283254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com/2008/09/confusion.html' title='Confusion'/><author><name>the name's leigh.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13662641993231599028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8157862678509179626.post-1697357061550801520</id><published>2008-09-19T18:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T18:49:10.287-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I Don't Understand.</title><content type='html'>I got to thinking today while teaching a choir class.  Why do people judge people based on what they look like?  So what if they're a little different?  So what if they dress a certain way?  I don't understand why people are so quick to judge others.  I know that I've done this in the past, but I've come to realize that things don't really matter as much when you're fixing to leave these people that you've been with since maybe elementary school.  People are so cruel sometimes.  We did homecoming queen nominations in our homerooms Wednesday, and the guys were nominating "nerdy" or "unpopular" or "unattractive" girls as a joke, and actually trying to get people to vote for them.  These guys don't even know these girls, and have probably never had to go through the teasing and ridiculing that these girls go through almost every single day.  Something that happened this past week, and last Friday really hit home with me.  Last Friday, a group of girls was going to throw DOG TOYS at a girl cheering at the pep rally.  DOG TOYS!  How do you come up with these things!?  Then this week, they barked at her walking down the hall.  They don't know this girl.  They don't know how sweet, talented, and smart she is.  Wow, she wears her hair up during games.  So you're going to say she looks like a dog??  Get a life people. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's my random post for the day.  Maybe more later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8157862678509179626-1697357061550801520?l=thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com/feeds/1697357061550801520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8157862678509179626&amp;postID=1697357061550801520' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8157862678509179626/posts/default/1697357061550801520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8157862678509179626/posts/default/1697357061550801520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thedramaticsoprano.blogspot.com/2008/09/things-i-dont-understand.html' title='Things I Don&apos;t Understand.'/><author><name>the name's leigh.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13662641993231599028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
