<?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-3631650892039900373</id><updated>2011-07-07T15:23:25.498-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quarter-Life</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>20</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631650892039900373.post-5856155645410443992</id><published>2010-07-02T12:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T12:36:31.049-07:00</updated><title type='text'>what's the word</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/TC4_nk6zBsI/AAAAAAAAAEs/4KAbzznCWXA/s1600/IMG_7569.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/TC4_nk6zBsI/AAAAAAAAAEs/4KAbzznCWXA/s320/IMG_7569.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489394944968951490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the book Eat Pray Love, Elizabeth says to her Italian friends that she doesn’t know if she could ever really live in Rome because she doesn’t feel like it’s her place. Her Italian friend said maybe they have different words. He continues to explain his theory that every city has a word, a word that encapsulates the entire meaning of the city and it’s existence. Every person also has a word. If your word the and the city’s word don’t go together, you don’t belong there. This sent my mind into a state of spinning and whirling that I had to stop and put the book down. I’ve been thinking a lot lately, go figure, about where I’m supposed to be. I absolutely love Natchez. Beginning in 9th grade, I counted down the days I would be able to escape. But things change and people change. Jax has grounded me, making me want to stay near my family so they can see him change from day to day. He has made me appreciate simplicity as opposed to my previous appreciation of cities that never sleep. Don’t get me wrong, I still have a deep love connection to New York City and other metropolises I haven’t had the opportunity to see yet (but I will). But for now, in this moment, I am happy where I am. In a slow, simple town with my family nearby. Because at this point in my life, that is all that matters to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyways, I began thinking about different places and what their words might be so I can try and figure out where my next move should be. And that was fun. Until I realized I have no clue what my word is. Therefore I can’t figure out what town I belong to because I don’t know what I belong to. I can think of words I would like to be. But there’s no point in being delusional or in denial when it comes to figuring out your word. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a few I think could work. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unsatisfied- I’m always unsatisfied, wanting more. There are so many things and places I want to see. So many cultures I want to discover and experience. And until I get to do those things, I am unsatisfied. I wouldn’t say I’m stuck. Well maybe I am a little. But I’m not miserably stuck. I’m happy being stuck for a little bit because I love seeing my parents interact with my son. I love walking down the simple streets of downtown and seeing the same people every day. But I don’t want this forever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Restless- Oh how I am restless. Physically and mentally. Like I’ve said before, I’m always doing something, going somewhere. I am on the road 40 percent of my life, roughly, but only because I love it. I do. I love it. And if I’m not physically moving and going, my mind is doing it for me. Always thinking, always coming up with new ideas and then driving myself crazy trying to figure out how to make that idea come to life until a couple days or a couple hours later when I get a new idea and the process repeats itself. It’s almost manic, but that’s just how I work. I’ve read some biographies about artists, poets, writers, musicians, and even renaissance men and strangely found myself less ‘odd’ and able to relate. Not saying I’m a renaissance man or woman or whatever, but some people are just… weird. Misfits I guess. And I’m a weirdo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Searching- This pretty much explains itself. I am searching, always. For new strangers to befriend, for new experiences to later become memories, for knowledge about anything and everything, for answers about anything and everything. I was searching subconsciously for answers as to whether real love exists and whether or not marriages really can work and if I could ever actually see myself with someone to grow old with. But thanks to that really cool God who I can almost hear saying ‘I told you so’ with a sarcastic smile on His face, I have figured out those answers. But still, I have plenty of other things I am searching for. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I would like for my word to be ‘content’. But then I thought about it, and I don’t want to be content. Because then I wouldn’t have the urge for more. And I like having the urge for more. I feel I can always see more, learn more. But I should listen more in order for a lot of things to fall into place. I’m a great listener when it comes to other people. But I’m horrible when it comes to hearing things about myself. I don’t want to hear it. Leave me alone. Insert (flaw) on my forehead here. I’m working on it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for now, my mind races yet again trying to figure out my damn word. I hope I like it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631650892039900373-5856155645410443992?l=brynnrogel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/5856155645410443992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2010/07/whats-word.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/5856155645410443992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/5856155645410443992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2010/07/whats-word.html' title='what&apos;s the word'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/TC4_nk6zBsI/AAAAAAAAAEs/4KAbzznCWXA/s72-c/IMG_7569.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631650892039900373.post-7537568623042975902</id><published>2010-07-02T12:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T12:32:54.235-07:00</updated><title type='text'>eat, pray, sigh, but then love</title><content type='html'>If you follow my writings, you are familiar with a ‘character’ who is not so much a character, but someone who is very real and very present in my life. But I refer to her here as Dr. Bailey (in association with my lame obsession of Grey’s Anatomy). For some reason, this person can get to me and get in my head more than anyone else in my life. When she speaks, I listen. When she points out something I should work on, I reflect. When she smiles, my heart smiles. This woman is my real life guardian angel and I am thankful every single day that I have someone like that because I’d most likely be a hot mess without her getting my ass back in line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Dr. Bailey gave me a book to read a few days ago. It is called ‘Eat Pray Love’ by Elizabeth Gilbert. A best seller and soon-to-be movie with the fantastic Julia Roberts. I actually checked this book out from the Hattiesburg Public Library a while back. My love for libraries equalizes that of coffee shops. There is something about them, a gathering place of some sort full of people seeking to learn. I like those types of people. Anyways, Jax arrived a couple days later. Needless to say, I didn’t read the book. I was too busy trying to figure out how to put a diaper on a baby. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started reading the book a couple of days ago, and it is so intense. It’s not a story so much as it is an invitation to learn some of the deepest lessons you will ever come across and then the challenge or dare to reflect upon yourself and do something about everything that needs something done. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thoroughly enjoyed the first third of the book because it describes her decision to drop everything and go live in Italy. She just roams the city, meets interesting people, eats a lot, and learns the Italian language. And I’m thinking, ‘all right, this is my type of chick. I need to buy a plane ticket right now’.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then comes the next part. The part about devotion and discipline. She goes to India to live in an Ashram. It is a rigorous process that challenges the mind, body, and soul. Days start at 3am and there are hours and hours a day spent meditating. Ummm… excuse my yawning here. Sitting there in complete stillness and silence for HOURS? Crank up the radio please. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is the part I’m stuck on and I don’t care much for. Take me back to Rome, Ms. Gilbert. What happened to the pizza and the museums and the bus stations? Get me out of this chapter. So I’m reading through, just kind of waiting for the next country she goes to so I can get some excitement. But then I come upon some parts of the book Dr. Bailey has taken the time to underline with a black pen. Everytime I get a book from her, I focus on the underlined parts because if it’s that important for her to do, it’s got to be something good. Something that affected her so much she had to grab the pen. These are the parts I focus on like a stray dog staring at a ribeye. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing underlined is “you cannot see your reflection in running water, only in still water”. Dammit, Dr. Bailey. This is something she has said to me over and over, in different words. She always gets on to me telling me to slow down. I am always moving, always doing something. And if I am sitting still, my mind is doing all the running. I love going to the bluff to sit and think. You would think that would be considering sitting still. But I go there to think. And when I think, it’s like a marathon of thoughts about the past, the future, Jax, my photography, all racing across my brain as if the winning prize were a million and one dollars. I never just… sit in stillness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take that back. There are times I do. But it’s always when I’m listening to live music. I will close my eyes, so I can listen with all of myself. If my eyes are open I am thinking not only about the music, but also about the way the musician’s fingers move across the guitar or the way the lighting makes the sweat on their face glisten. But when I close my eyes, all I can do is hear. And the music fills up my whole being. That’s the only time I sit still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m getting off subject. There are several more things underlined in this section of the book. The book is set into 3 sections. Her time in Rome, her time in India at the Ashram, and her time in Indonesia. Italy was the fun part. India is the grueling but necessary part of her journey full of self-reflection followed by the process of reacting to the reflection And I’m so tired of India. But I start to think about it in the bigger picture. And not to be narcissistic, but I feel like she underlined the things she underlined not just for her, but for me. I noticed she didn’t underline anything in the Italy section. She didn’t even pick up her pen until India. Why? Because she knows me oh too well. She knows I don’t need any lessons when it comes to spontaneous traveling and appreciating culture through meeting complete strangers. That is embedded in me, which can at times be a flaw. No, she broke out that black ink when it came to India because these are the things she’s been trying to get through my thick and stubborn skull. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This book is intense. And I don’t like what it is doing to me. Because I am stubborn and would prefer that Elizabeth Gilbert ended the book after the first section so I can just continue enjoying who I am without the devotion and discipline crap, I mean lessons. But I am going to keep reading. I don’t know what the third section is about, I’m really hoping it won’t be like the second one because I’m tired of the word meditate. But I have a feeling I won’t see the words pizza or random roadtrip for the rest of the book. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m frustrated with Dr. Bailey for giving me this book in the first place, because she knew it would knock me on my restless ass. I’m frustrated with Elizabeth Gilbert for challenging me through every typed word. But I can’t help but smile with deep appreciation at the same time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631650892039900373-7537568623042975902?l=brynnrogel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/7537568623042975902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2010/07/eat-pray-sigh-but-then-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/7537568623042975902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/7537568623042975902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2010/07/eat-pray-sigh-but-then-love.html' title='eat, pray, sigh, but then love'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631650892039900373.post-1208636280014509550</id><published>2010-06-20T14:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-25T15:20:54.977-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Now I Get It</title><content type='html'>I grew up believing in Romeo and Juliet love. I dreamed about it, couldn't wait to experience it. Experiences came, and the reality of what it was overlapped the feelings I dreamt of. After that goes on for so long, those feelings are so faded it almost feels like you are remembering something in third person. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt those feelings finally about 5 years ago. Long story short, after a little over a year, Romeo dropped Juliet like a bad habit. And she knew she'd never be the same. She vowed to never let herself feel that hurt again, because at the time she didn't think she'd make it out alive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, no thanks to that. I'm good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got in more relationships after that, but nothing ever worked out for long. But I didn't care very much. I didn't realize it at the time, but I didn't care that much because I never let myself get to that point emotionally where I would care if someone went away. I was fine either way. I was numb. For five years, I've been jaded (not bitter, just jaded). Everything changed a week ago. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a boy. I've felt drawn to him for quite a while. But never explored those feelings. We were both involved in other situations that prevented us from exploring those feelings. But last week, the journey began and the exploration has led to feelings I didn't know could exist. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went home to see my Mom and sat her down and told her after my breakup five years ago, I never thought I could feel those feelings again. But I feel them now and I can't stop smiling. My eyes filled with tears and I told her how wonderful it is to feel this alive. We cried together, hugged, and I told her all about this guy I was head over heels in love with. She listened with tears in her eyes and a smile painted on her face that mirrored mine. It was one of my favorite moments ever and I realized how much I love my mother and can't imagine life without her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week I began something with someone. And I'd marry him tomorrow. HOW CRAZY IS THAT? If you know me well, you know how crazy I sound. But I can't stop freakin smiling, I can't feel anything but happy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I get it. Now I know what love is supposed to feel like. Even though this is happening so fast, it is the most real thing I've ever experienced. I am so thankful God allowed me to cross paths with this person. He waited until just the right time, and He gave me someone He knew would be perfect for me. I hope I remember this daily, that it is because of Him that I'm getting to experience this. I hope He becomes a fixture in the center of our relationship. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm scared to death. I feel like I've just jumped off a cliff and I'm praying to God that my wings work. I could list a hundred things I'm scared of and a hundred more feelings I don't want to ever have to feel again. But I can list a million reasons to go for it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's to the big jump. Look up and you might see me soaring with a smile that won't go away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631650892039900373-1208636280014509550?l=brynnrogel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/1208636280014509550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2010/06/now-i-get-it.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/1208636280014509550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/1208636280014509550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2010/06/now-i-get-it.html' title='Now I Get It'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631650892039900373.post-7264032041204244878</id><published>2010-06-02T20:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-02T20:31:32.087-07:00</updated><title type='text'>vultures</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/TAcgLfT4WFI/AAAAAAAAAEk/87pUO4U6PvM/s1600/cvans.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 270px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/TAcgLfT4WFI/AAAAAAAAAEk/87pUO4U6PvM/s320/cvans.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478382853475031122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've been thinking about small-town life lately. because, well, i live in one. it sucks because it's such a great town... most of the time. i mean, great restaurants, old historic houses, a beautiful bluff overlooking the mississippi. but with a small town comes small town gossip. and if you aren't careful, it can eat you alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no matter what you do, people are going to talk about you. that's just how it is. reasons can vary from jealousy to just pure boredom or the need for a conversation topic to keep things interesting. the majority of the time, the gossip is false. but that doesn't matter in the conversation. i mean, we all know, the juicier the better, right? if a girl goes out to eat with a guy, it's so much better to talk about how they are dating now as opposed to oh they must be good friends. yeah, the latter will never be said. it's not as fun to discuss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the trick is to stay grounded. don't limit what you want to do (as long as it is appropriate, if you do something that give them something to really talk about- for example: dancing on a table in a restaurant - then yeah, they have something worthy of discussion). be yourself while also respecting yourself. now don't think that puts you in the clear. your life will still be among conversation, but as long as you stay true to yourself and know who you are as a person, that talk can only go so far. basically, don't let them bring you down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm not sure why people tend to want to bring other people down. i mean, hell, why can't we all just freakin get along? because girls will be girls and boys will be boys and cliques will be cliques and that's just how it is... so get used to it!!! the quicker you realize this, the better off you will be. you can either choose to let it affect you (and they win) or you can choose to go on with your life with the confidence you should have and love yourself the way you are supposed to (you win). so you choose. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've chosen. of course it is humanly impossible to not let little things bother you at first. but that is where it needs to end. that is where you need to let it go. don't think negative about the person using your name like one of those balls in a pinball machine. that's a waste of time and you are also lowering yourself to that level. just move on. that's it. it's simple. easier said than done. but still... simple. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if you live in a small town, i hope this helps a little bit. it is something i've had to learn. and learning always kind of sucks because there is a little pain before the realization. but i'll take the pain and appreciate the lesson learned. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;don't let cattiness or gossip ruin where you live. don't blame the town. don't blame circumstances. don't blame anything. because that involves pondering on it and we've already said- that's a waste of time my friends. chances are the town you live in is actually a neat place. small towns usually are. find out what makes your town interesting. find a spot to call 'your spot'. go there often to think or read or write. find out about the history of where you live. it's more fun imagining the people that walked the streets a hundred years ago that you walk down every day. this may sound nerdy, but it's my inner dork making it's appearance in my blog like it usually does. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to sum it all up, nobody can make you feel inferior but you. so stop listening to what people say about you and listen to what yourself has to say to you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631650892039900373-7264032041204244878?l=brynnrogel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/7264032041204244878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2010/06/vultures.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/7264032041204244878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/7264032041204244878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2010/06/vultures.html' title='vultures'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/TAcgLfT4WFI/AAAAAAAAAEk/87pUO4U6PvM/s72-c/cvans.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631650892039900373.post-8288362784958330425</id><published>2010-05-03T15:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T12:21:00.787-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Follow Through</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/S-BzjzlA5FI/AAAAAAAAAEc/GQGbv93yGNA/s1600/melunch.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/S-BzjzlA5FI/AAAAAAAAAEc/GQGbv93yGNA/s320/melunch.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467497006605853778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life has been pretty good, can't complain. Got a new place to live, it's on Franklin Street, which if you aren't familiar with Natchez is Antique Row. I love antique stores and am very happy about being in the midst of them. I love downtown living, I'm half a block from the coffee shop (aka my office basically) and the bluff is a couple hundred yards away. I am still hanging pictures and such but it will be such a great feeling when it truly feels like home. Which hopefully will be soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a job. And quit a job. I worked at Monmouth Plantation for a couple of months and absolutely loved it. Working at such a beautiful and historic place was amazing. I spent most of my lunch breaks fishing at the pond or reading in a hammock. But I wasn't getting enough time for my photography and graphic design work and also wasn't getting to be around jax as much as I prefer. I love the people I worked with so it is bittersweet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have ideas. I'd like to start a PR/marketing firm. There are so many great things in Natchez but nobody knows about them. I want to be that middle man that spreads the word so these places can get the business they deserve. The Mighty Martini Bistro and The Manor are two places I'd like to see do well. Apparently The Manor has a blues band in the basement on the weekends and I think that would be so much fun. But like I said, nobody really knows about it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also would love to start a library. Not a big huge library. A low-key library with a limited number of books, mostly classics and best-sellers. But the whole point of this place is so people have a place to study or read. I want to have several desks and work areas for students that need to meet to work on projects. I want it to be open late as well because that's when a lot of people study. And of course there will be coffee served there! I just think it would be great for students, especially those at co-lin and alcorn, have a chill place to study for school. There is a place on Union St that would be perfect. And it has a huge brick wall outside which would be cool to show old movies on with a projector. And everyone can bring chairs or blankets and watch it from the old Mainstream Fitness parking lot. I've always liked when movies are shown outdoors with a projector, makes me think of the good ol days when there were drive-in movies. The old Feltus Bro Hardware Store would be perfect too. It has it's own courtyard and a really huge brick wall so the outdoor movie thing would work perfectly there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So basically I see all of these things that Natchez has, there's so much potential. I desperately want the arts and the downtown scene to become newsworthy, our Main St and connected streets could be just as famous as Beale St in Memphis. We have the history and the culture. We need to encourage the arts more, especially in the schools. There is so much I want to do. I get scared that I won't follow through with anything. So many great ideas down the drain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631650892039900373-8288362784958330425?l=brynnrogel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/8288362784958330425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2010/05/life-has-been-pretty-good-cant-complain.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/8288362784958330425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/8288362784958330425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2010/05/life-has-been-pretty-good-cant-complain.html' title='Follow Through'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/S-BzjzlA5FI/AAAAAAAAAEc/GQGbv93yGNA/s72-c/melunch.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631650892039900373.post-5650709380173457092</id><published>2010-02-24T18:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-24T19:01:59.744-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Roadside Revelations</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/S4XkAgVdwgI/AAAAAAAAAEU/RI6JMTesxQI/s1600-h/metrainfaredit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 225px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/S4XkAgVdwgI/AAAAAAAAAEU/RI6JMTesxQI/s320/metrainfaredit.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442006422078210562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's been a while. i haven't really felt like writing lately. i haven't thought anything that's been on my mind was important enough to write down. but then i realized maybe it could be to someone. i also wanted to keep a lot of the things private because they are far too personal feelings to share. so i've stayed away from here in order to censor myself because when my fingers land on the keyboard i tend to be too honest and open. funny i can't be that way when speaking to someone. the honest part i can but not so much the open part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've been thinking about love lately. i don't usually write about the mushy stuff. but it's been on my mind a lot lately. mostly from observing people's behavior around me and then watching tv shows and movies that make real life look less desirable. the guys in the movies are listening to every word that comes out of the girl's mouth because they are just so fascinated by her. the guys i've observed in real life might as well not have been born with ears. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm not dating by any means, i am just talking about guys in general. i've been feeling a little lonely lately and wishing i had love in my life, but then i look at the bigger picture. i might feel lonely for a couple minutes or a couple hours, but that's ok because i'm not ready for love yet. i'm happy with just me and jax. he is my one and only focus, and that's not going to change any time soon. i don't want it to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the lonely thing, well that's just normal human nature because we all want to be loved. it doesn't mean that i'm looking for anything or want anything right now. if love came right now, it just wouldn't work out because it's not the right time in my life. i am so glad that i realize this because it allows me to be patient knowing one day it will happen. in the meantime, i am just fine cuddling with jax and telling him about my day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so that's enough of that. i've taken a couple of trips lately. nothing big, just short road trips. i've stopped on the side of the road to take a picture that i used to just keep driving past when i had lost pieces of myself. i've roamed around for hours in antique stores coming up with my own stories behind each piece of jewelry or salt and pepper shakers. i've talked to strangers and listened about their lives. i've gone hiking in the woods by myself just to look around and take in the beauty God created for us to enjoy. i've been doing things i used to do, things i enjoy, things that make me who i am. things i had stopped doing when i wasn't sure who i was anymore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've been thinking about my photography a lot lately. i wondered why i haven't really pushed my business. i have just sort of been laying low and if someone likes my pictures and wants me to take some for them i'll do it. i've come to the conclusion i'm scared to death of failing at it. so i don't want to try because i would either fail or succeed, and it means too much to me to fail at it. so i've really thought about it and the only way i could fail is not being educated on all the things i need to know about photography. i've just relied on my 'eye' and been lazy about learning about lenses and technique and all of that. i told myself i'd rather just take pictures that i like and i don't have to learn all of that. frankly because i looked at all of that stuff once and it was so confusing i gave up after one paragraph. not because of a lack of intelligence, just because of laziness. that sucks to say, but it's the truth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so i've been doing a lot of research lately and have really been studying hard. i want to know the in's and out's, every possible detail and every technique. i want to know how a lens is made and the science behind it. i want to know everything. i'm very happy about this and feel after i've done enough studying, i will be ready to put myself out there and really go for it. i'm still really nervous about failing, but i've never been one to analyze risks. so why start now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There comes a time when every life goes off course. In this desperate moment you must choose your direction. Will you fight to stay on the path while others tell you who you are? Or will you label yourself? Will you be honored by your choice? Or will you embrace your new path? Each morning you choose to move forward or to simply give up"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631650892039900373-5650709380173457092?l=brynnrogel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/5650709380173457092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2010/02/roadside-revelations.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/5650709380173457092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/5650709380173457092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2010/02/roadside-revelations.html' title='Roadside Revelations'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/S4XkAgVdwgI/AAAAAAAAAEU/RI6JMTesxQI/s72-c/metrainfaredit.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631650892039900373.post-6610542702936978570</id><published>2009-11-25T10:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T15:56:02.193-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Thought of Tomorrow Ruins Today</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/Sw2J8_E8V8I/AAAAAAAAAEI/kBUWUEuZPzU/s1600/blogpic2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 277px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/Sw2J8_E8V8I/AAAAAAAAAEI/kBUWUEuZPzU/s320/blogpic2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408130408359155650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/Sw2J8aia5gI/AAAAAAAAAEA/CsCFaypGvA8/s1600/blogpic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 282px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/Sw2J8aia5gI/AAAAAAAAAEA/CsCFaypGvA8/s320/blogpic.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408130398550681090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/Sw2J8Po1UkI/AAAAAAAAAD4/wWRTvHtrg8A/s1600/blogpic3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/Sw2J8Po1UkI/AAAAAAAAAD4/wWRTvHtrg8A/s320/blogpic3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408130395624788546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was listening to Colin Hay yesterday and he has a song called 'Waiting For My Real Life to Begin'. And there are several quotes that talk about waiting for life to happen but those moments spent waiting are actually our life passing by. What a waste of time. But we always do it. How crazy would life be if the thought of tomorrow didn't exist? If we truly lived one day like it was our last? I think it's a good idea to live like today is our last day but it's not realistic. I mean, if today was my last day I would go skydiving, tell certain people how I really feel about them, drive across the country (or as far as I could get before the day ends) and maybe rob a bank. And some days I just like to stay in my pajamas and only get off the couch to pee. It's not how I would spend my last day but it's still a great day. Sometimes we have a day or a moment when we feel like we are truly living. I feel like that right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in Atlanta for Thanksgiving. The thing I love about Georgia is the nature. There are hills and trees and true signs of it being fall. I took a blanket, a book, my camera, and my iPhone (for music) I'm laying in the middle of the woods. It's beautiful and I'm surrounded by yellow and red leaves and right now there are two squirrels playing their own version of tag about 25 ft away. I'm actually really scared of squirrels. My high school boyfriend told me to watch out for the squirrels  because a girl got attacked by one in the Grove. He told me this when I told him I was going to Ole Miss in the fall. Thanks buddy. So ever since then if I see a squirrel I make a combat plan in my head in case one decides to attack me. So I'm a little nervous right now but I feel like I can handle my own against these two, I'm feeling a sense of courage here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm very happy at this moment. I feel like I'm living. I have these moments a lot but I decided to record this moment so I can look back on it when I'm not having a good moment. Or maybe to inspire you to have one of your own. There are always excuses not to have one. Tomorrow being the main one. But mine today were the fact that it's a little chilly and I don't have a jacket. The ground is kind of wet. And I love being in the woods but I hate spiders. I am still a little chilly. And I brought 2 blankets to sit on so I don't get wet. But for a moment like this, being a little chilly and dealing with a couple spiders is so worth it. Don't live today like it's your last. Just go do something TODAY that you will do 'tomorrow'. Peace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631650892039900373-6610542702936978570?l=brynnrogel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/6610542702936978570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/11/thought-of-tomorrow-ruins-today.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/6610542702936978570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/6610542702936978570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/11/thought-of-tomorrow-ruins-today.html' title='The Thought of Tomorrow Ruins Today'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/Sw2J8_E8V8I/AAAAAAAAAEI/kBUWUEuZPzU/s72-c/blogpic2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631650892039900373.post-516174196210218321</id><published>2009-11-19T21:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T21:54:43.187-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Monsters Aren't Just Under the Bed Anymore</title><content type='html'>It freaks me out that there are people in the world like that five-year old's mother in North Carolina. If you haven't been watching the news, the body of a five-year old girl was found and the story is that her mother was prostituting her daughter and that's how she ended up dead. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick to my stomach about this. Because this is one of several stories about parents killing their children or something similar. How? For nine months she carried this child inside her body. She felt her kick and she heard her cry as soon as she was born. She saw her sweet baby's eyes gazing into hers as she drank her bottle. How can someone do this? Reports say she was calm and quiet in court. No remorse, no emotion. A five year old girl being prostituted. And then murdered. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Innocence is the beautiful thing about children, and how dare anyone who takes that away. I'm so mad right now I could scream. Mainly because I just don't get it. It's difficult to believe that there are people out there who are so messed up in the head that they don't think twice about doing something like this and also don't feel any emotion afterwards. It's scary. It makes me more cautious about doing things I never thought twice about like walking around alone at night or getting into my car outside of a store. I never thought anything could happen to me and maybe it's because I didn't really think there were true monsters out there. But there really are. That's what people like this are... they are monsters, barely even human. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so bad for what this poor innocent girl had taken from her and what she went through and how scared she had to be. And it's terrible that things like this are going on constantly. I hate it and it makes me sad. I wish there was a way to protect the innocence of every single child out there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631650892039900373-516174196210218321?l=brynnrogel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/516174196210218321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/11/monsters-arent-just-under-bed-anymore.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/516174196210218321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/516174196210218321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/11/monsters-arent-just-under-bed-anymore.html' title='Monsters Aren&apos;t Just Under the Bed Anymore'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631650892039900373.post-3323828403839362046</id><published>2009-11-11T12:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T14:05:58.426-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Highway Thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/SvyFvYIo2KI/AAAAAAAAADQ/JCdmMC7hSZE/s1600-h/IMG_0317.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/SvyFvYIo2KI/AAAAAAAAADQ/JCdmMC7hSZE/s320/IMG_0317.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403340701916780706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drive a lot. More than most I think. I always have. Depending on what's going on in life determines where these destinations are. The last couple years at Ole Miss I drove to Little Rock about once a week because that's where my 'crew' of the time was. Crew is such a lame word. Now I'm always driving to either Jackson, Natchez (where my parents are) or New Orleans (where my best friend and other group of fantastically wonderful girls are that I met through my best friend a few years ago). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I always go alone. Because I like it that way. It's where I do my thinking and where I listen to my music that inspires me and makes me sing and makes me dance and sometimes makes me cry. I'm writing all of this because I realized when I got on here to start writing that most of my blogs are written while driving, specifically down 84 which is where I am now. I don't recommend this and I do realize it is a bit stupid and quite dangerous to blog while driving. But I write anyways because any writer knows when it hits you, it must be written at that moment or the ideas and/or feelings fade. So if it's written later it almost becomes something that is no longer written in first person because you are trying to remember what you were thinking and how you felt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sooooo... The original point of this entry. I want to start my own publication. I've never had the urge to do this before. I've always been happy seeing my articles in other people's papers. But Hattiesburg only has it's daily newspaper. There is no Jackson Free Press type of thing here. Which is a total shame because JFP is freakin awesome and so interesting. We need something like that here. And as much as I don't want to take on this huge amount of stress, I think I'm going to do it. My favorite part is that when I've mentioned it to a few people here they look at me like 'yeah, right, good luck with that'. What a freakin joy it is to prove people wrong. I can so do this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you know what's weird? People say everything happens for a reason. I kind of believe that, and I've seen an awesome connection between a couple things that have happened. I got a job selling advertising and marketing businesses for a magazine. Well I couldn't continue with that job because I'm staying in Hattiesburg and that's too far from my designated area. It was horrible and I was (and still am) so upset because I fell in love with the magazine and the people I worked with. But now I see... Maybe I was supposed to do this (start my own publication) and I got that job to learn how to sell advertising! Because I know how to write, take pictures, and I know graphic design. But before that job I had no clue how to sell advertising which is the most important part. Crazy huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So speak of things happening for a reason. I'm on the side of the road now, I got pulled over for speeding. It wasn't even on purpose, I'm not even in a hurry. I just wasn't paying attention because I was all into what I'm writing. So maybe I shouldn't write while driving. Crap my dad is going to freakin kill me. Until next time...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631650892039900373-3323828403839362046?l=brynnrogel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/3323828403839362046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-drive-lot.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/3323828403839362046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/3323828403839362046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-drive-lot.html' title='Highway Thoughts'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/SvyFvYIo2KI/AAAAAAAAADQ/JCdmMC7hSZE/s72-c/IMG_0317.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631650892039900373.post-4754567931917895383</id><published>2009-10-22T09:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T10:55:31.520-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Simmer Down Now</title><content type='html'>So many things have happened in a short period of time that I cried so hard I was to the point of hyperventilation. It just got to be too much for me to handle. Which brings me to this realization... it is too much for ME to handle alone, I need HIM. I felt so stupid for worrying myself to the point of hyperventilation, because He is standing there waving His hands and yelling "Yo over here! I can do it, just come to me and I got your back!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; A very dear friend of mine, we'll call her Dr. Bailey, gave me a book a couple weeks ago.  "Breaking Free" by Beth Moore. If you aren't familiar with her, drive to the bookstore right now or listen to her podcast on iTunes. A Christian woman who is humble, real, admittedly imperfect, passionate, and the best part... she is hilarious. And Southern : )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, the book talks about captivity and the chains holding us down. These words sound like something out of 'Troy' or 'The Gladiator', but they are very real in each of our lives. Of course we don't have actual chains holding us to the ground, or at least I hope you don't, if you do I don't really know what to tell ya. But for the rest of us, we have different kinds of chains. These chains can be doubt and lack of trust. They can be drugs or alcohol or even shopping. And the one we don't see as chains can be people. Are you putting someone in the place where God is supposed to be? I have plenty of times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One big thing I read made me sit back and think 'whoops'. It focused on the issue of believing God. Not believing He exists and that He is up there somewhere and hopefully we'll see Him one day. I mean believing Him. Believing Him when He says the things He says and tells us what He can do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Believing He is real and believing Him are two very separate things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If a close friend tells you "I will be there for you always. You can talk to me anytime. I will never turn my back to you. I will love you more than you can imagine no matter what horrible things you do." When you hear that, you believe that person and it's a great feeling. So why don't we believe God when He tells us the same thing?  Maybe you believe He'll always be there and blah blah blah. But if we are dealing with problems in life and worry about them, we are not believing Him. When we turn to other things or people instead of Him, we are not believing Him. I could go on and on, but hopefully you get the point. We can say we believe Him, but do we really? Are we acting like we believe Him? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Worrying= doubt= not believing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing that made me step back was the issue of praying. Praying is tricky. It can be tough, honestly. We are humans and we like to talk to people we can physically see and physically hear. You have to realize the power of prayer for it to be something meaningful to us. Not 'the power' as in if you pray for a big house you will turn around and there's a big house waiting for you to move in. I mean the power it has to make your relationship with God intimate and fulfilling. The enemy knows how powerful prayer is and it freaks him out. He will distract us with anything to keep us from praying. Even with things we think are good like going to church or reading the Bible all night looking for answers. These things are good, but they are a package deal. They are only good when there is prayer involved. If the enemy is so freaked out about us praying, there has to be a pretty big reason for it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have to think of what you have with God as an actual relationship. Think about your relationship with your boyfriend or girlfriend, husband or wife. What kind of relationship would you have with that person if you only talked to them for 2 minutes before you went to sleep at night. Or only came to that person after you've gone to everybody and everything else for help with a problem. Or didn't believe him or her when they told you how much they loved you. What a terrible relationship that would be! You have to think of your relationship with God that way. That's the one point that totally changed my life. When I realized what a relationship with Him actually meant. The correlation with that and how physical human relationships work made me realize I need to involve Him in my life all day every day, take Him with me wherever I go, don't just talk to Him right as I'm falling asleep at night or only when I'm having a problem. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So these are the things I have learned in the past few days. I thought it would be selfish not to share. If Dr. Bailey hadn't shared with me I would still be on the floor and defeated. The amazing thing is, the second I believed Him, I felt total peace. He literally told my heart 'Dude don't worry, I got this. I am going to be right by your side as you go through all of this and I can hands-down take anybody or anything that gets in your way. You just have to trust me."  How lucky are we to have that on our side?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631650892039900373-4754567931917895383?l=brynnrogel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/4754567931917895383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/10/simmer-down-now.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/4754567931917895383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/4754567931917895383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/10/simmer-down-now.html' title='Simmer Down Now'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631650892039900373.post-7721871466706014385</id><published>2009-10-01T12:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T12:35:16.389-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Show Me The Money!</title><content type='html'>it's weird when you go to college, you are there (mostly) to get a degree. so that when you get your degree you can start your career. but they never tell you that when you graduate, that degree doesn't really mean much. i mean it does in a sense, but it doesn't mean you get a job. I WANT TO WORK! i'm going crazy, i want to write or be involved in a publication in any way even if it is just to get coffee or change the urinal cakes in the bathroom. it's weird they call them cakes. i just want to have something to do every day, feel like i have some sort of purpose somewhere. I want to have a task and complete it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i used to be on a search for a job that i will love because i don't want to be miserable in my job like the majority of people these days are. but now im on a search for absolutely anything. and it's weird because i don't even know how to go about a job search. do i just go into a magazine or wherever and ask to talk to the editor so i can hand her my resume and tell her i'll do anything? oh the pathetic desperation that will be echoing in my voice as i speak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they should have a class in college (they probably do at some) that specifically teaches you about the real world and how to go about finding that job. maybe i had a class similar to that but i didn't go much. i don't know. anyways, this post isn't me just thinking out loud (or in writing i guess i should say). it's an actual request. i don't get many comments on my posts, but i know there are people out there who read this. i hate when i don't get comments by the way, it makes me feel like what i've written is pointless, like it didn't affect anyone. not that my purpose for writing is to always get feedback. i don't know. my mind is in 732 places today, can't ya tell? i start writing something but then i don't have a point or know how to finish the thought so i just say 'i don't know'.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyways, back to the point. im a journalist, i love photography, i love public relations, i love anything that goes into the field of 'communications'. I have a resume. I have a portfolio. How the heck do I find a job? I need advice and/or opinions. Some people don't know how to comment on the actual blog, so if that's the case and you have some advice for me, email me. brynndalynn24@gmail.com.  Anything and everything is appreciated! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, I've been asked by a family member who will go unnamed for the sake of the argument it will cause later, to stop writing this blog. "You are putting your personal life out there for everyone to see. You look like an idiot, that's what it is doing. It's making you look like a total idiot."  Ouch. So I questioned my motives about writing this blog. Why do I do it? I guess some of it is ranting; expressing myself for the sake of getting it out of my head. But I also want to affect people. Not in a huge way because that is tough to do. But have some sort of affect, maybe for someone who is going through what I'm going through. Or for someone who is having their own problems and they see other people struggle too. But I also don't want that to be what all my blogs are about... struggles and blah blah blah. I want them to be uplifting, some of them witty, some of them pointless and retarded. But with the crap I'm going through right now, that's just what they are about for the time being. Basically I am just asking, should I stop writing? Is there a point to it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631650892039900373-7721871466706014385?l=brynnrogel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/7721871466706014385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/10/show-me-money.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/7721871466706014385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/7721871466706014385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/10/show-me-money.html' title='Show Me The Money!'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631650892039900373.post-3582386344220543845</id><published>2009-09-24T15:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T15:44:44.412-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Struggle</title><content type='html'>I'm in between how it is and how it should be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am at the crossroads and have to make a move quick. I don't usually get into the details of what is actually happening in my life but this time I am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am single. I am a single mother. It's not the easiest place to be. But I tried as hard as I could to make something work for the sake of having a family , but wanting something so bad doesn't always make it happen. It sucks and it hurts and I'm not happy about any of this, but at the same time, this is just what is happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am moving to Jackson. But I need a place to live. I need a job. I need to figure out what to do with Jax while I'm at that job. I need to figure out a lot. Basically how am I going to make it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been praying a lot because I need Him to show me what to do right now. So I've reached out to some people spiritually and it hasn't necessarily led me to anything. I don't know what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's the whole point of this post. There's nothing insightful, nothing inspirational, nothing witty. It's just a cry out I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631650892039900373-3582386344220543845?l=brynnrogel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/3582386344220543845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/09/struggle.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/3582386344220543845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/3582386344220543845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/09/struggle.html' title='Struggle'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631650892039900373.post-913745517191363606</id><published>2009-09-14T17:54:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T21:44:37.281-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Race</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/Sq8brjdsHHI/AAAAAAAAADI/F750wCxbHUM/s1600-h/images-2.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 143px; height: 58px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/Sq8brjdsHHI/AAAAAAAAADI/F750wCxbHUM/s320/images-2.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381550514799123570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only once before my current relationship have I really considered marriage. And that one time ended with me getting bitch-slapped in the face. Ouch. So yeah, I'm not a big fan of the whole thing. Not because I'm bitter, but because it's the one area in life where I'm realistic. But life has changed and things have happened. And getting married isn't just something that affects me and my husband-to-be. It affects my son. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been in bliss picking out bridesmaid's dresses and flowers. But I get a bit of an anxiety attack when I think about the actual being married part of it. This is bad, but I've always decided being totally honest is the only way to write. And it's not the boyfriend's fault. He's a great guy and the best father in the world. It's more of a problem within myself combined with a few relationship problems we have. But I keep ignoring these anxiety attacks because I am 'supposed to get married'. But these are my thoughts on this as I have had a mini-epiphany while I drive down Hwy 84...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marriage is like a marathon. You have to be ready for it. People don't just do a marathon without training for it. I'm metaphorically out of shape! Like The Biggest Loser out of shape. I've lost myself trying to make things work and also being defeated by life's mini-battles. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I need to take time picking up the bits and pieces of myself that I've lost along the way. I need to put them back together and take a picture so I won't forget, because right now the image is quite blurry. And it's nobody's fault but my own for losing the strength I've always prided myself in having. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So back to this marathon, I need to take some time to train. Because when I do this marathon, I don't want to be miserably dragging along in the back panting and out of breath. I want it to be a good experience and dammit I want to win.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631650892039900373-913745517191363606?l=brynnrogel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/913745517191363606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/09/race.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/913745517191363606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/913745517191363606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/09/race.html' title='The Race'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/Sq8brjdsHHI/AAAAAAAAADI/F750wCxbHUM/s72-c/images-2.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631650892039900373.post-8192490414422038183</id><published>2009-09-10T11:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T13:51:30.989-07:00</updated><title type='text'>broken</title><content type='html'>Honesty is scary. It makes you feel weak. Vulnerable. You are putting yourself out there. You are putting your heart on the line. Strength and character are based on how you deal with it when your heart is handed (or hurled) back to you. It's always tough to be the weak one. Makes you feel like a dumbass. But I've decided putting yourself out there and things not going the way you hoped doesn't make you weak. It makes you brave. And getting through it makes you strong. So here's to bravery and strength. I'll get by with a little help from my friends. And I'll still smile and believe in love everytime I look at Jax. Because the way I feel about him... Now that's love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/SqlRxqdsSEI/AAAAAAAAABQ/usSKPZbrYk4/s1600-h/Photo+235.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/SqlRxqdsSEI/AAAAAAAAABQ/usSKPZbrYk4/s320/Photo+235.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379921143525034050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All you can do is be yourself. "Be yourself, it's the one thing you can do better than anybody else". Know that you deserve the best and if someone makes you feel like you don't, screw them. The only one that can make you feel inferior is you. So don't let anyone make you doubt your beauty and the great things that make you who you are. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's all about self-awareness. Be aware of the good things. But also be aware of the bad. Recognize your faults and work on them. It drives me crazy when people sit on their high horse and state their morals but don't act like those morals exist when they don't feel like it. Consistency people. If you are going to believe in certain things and throw those things in people's faces, then don't be a damn hypocrite. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People say if someone is always on your mind, they are supposed to be there. But then again, people say don't waste your time thinking of someone if they aren't thinking about you too. So I'm not wasting my time. Either you love me or you don't, either you think I'm a good person or you don't. Either this or that and blah blah blah. But no matter what you think, I know me. And I love who I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"and through the rise and falling apart, we discover who we are"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631650892039900373-8192490414422038183?l=brynnrogel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/8192490414422038183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/09/honesty-is-scary.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/8192490414422038183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/8192490414422038183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/09/honesty-is-scary.html' title='broken'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/SqlRxqdsSEI/AAAAAAAAABQ/usSKPZbrYk4/s72-c/Photo+235.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631650892039900373.post-803371728322105695</id><published>2009-07-24T18:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T12:54:11.171-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In The Dark Place</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/SqlZWbAeHoI/AAAAAAAAABY/1KRLfpuGz-Q/s1600-h/Photo+93.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/SqlZWbAeHoI/AAAAAAAAABY/1KRLfpuGz-Q/s320/Photo+93.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379929471612493442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On an episode of Grey's Anatomy (my life obsession) Christina is acting weird and quietly upset and Meredith asks "Are you in the dark place?"  She said yes and Meredith said she was there too. I'm in the dark place today. It's hit me hard today that for the past month I haven't been myself. Funny we don't notice that when it's happening. Having a baby was such a huge transition. It's exciting and it's scary as hell. I started to get nervous that I would never get to 'have fun' again. So I started taking on every social oppurtunity possible. Some of them were great and it was fun to just hang out. But last night I went out with friends and stayed out until like 2am. And I left the boyfriend's debit card at the bar. I was irresponsible with someone else's property. Someone I love. I was also incapable of taking care of jax bc I took 3 benadryl to sleep when I got home. Today I woke up to the boyfriend asking for his debit card and it all just kind of hit me. I got this 'what the hell am I doing?' feeling. And i've had that feeling all day. I've missed 3 different appt's in the past month bc I've been too irresponsible to write them down.  I've been thinking about the past month and realizing that's not how I want to be. Going out with friends every now and then is fine, I don't think there is anything wrong with that.  But I have a child now. And he is the love of my life. And this is where I need to be... With him in my arms. I love him so much and he makes me happier than any party or anything else. I was so scared things were going to change and I wasn't going to 'have a life' anymore. I feel like an idiot bc things have changed, they are supposed to. And I do have a life, it's just a different one. And this life, this life as a mother, is the best possible life in the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631650892039900373-803371728322105695?l=brynnrogel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/803371728322105695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/07/in-dark-place.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/803371728322105695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/803371728322105695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/07/in-dark-place.html' title='In The Dark Place'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/SqlZWbAeHoI/AAAAAAAAABY/1KRLfpuGz-Q/s72-c/Photo+93.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631650892039900373.post-7984971458235813114</id><published>2009-07-19T01:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-19T01:33:21.847-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ace of Base</title><content type='html'>Where is my sign? I talked to God tonight for the first time in a while. Like hardcore honest talk. I read Wild At Heart and he talked about God showing him a sign. Maybe it was the book his wife wrote 'Captivated'. Anyways, he asked for a sign from God as he was looking at the water and all of a sudden he saw all of these whales. The same thing happened to his wife ecxept she saw hundreds of starfish. I was talking to Him tonight and I asked Him to please show me a sign that he was there and listening. I asked Him to please give me a shooting star because I was staring at the sky. I waited and waited begging please. Nothing. I needed Him to let me know he was there. And I told Him I know I should just trust that He was there. But I so desperately wanted Him to show it. Now I'm angry at Him for not 'showing up' and I know that is stupid. But if other people get their signs, why can't I?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631650892039900373-7984971458235813114?l=brynnrogel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/7984971458235813114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/07/ace-of-base.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/7984971458235813114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/7984971458235813114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/07/ace-of-base.html' title='Ace of Base'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631650892039900373.post-3195643722130766554</id><published>2009-07-10T23:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T23:25:17.820-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One-Man Wolfpack</title><content type='html'>It's tough being the only one of your close friends that has a baby. Sometimes I feel like everyone is living this life without me... Like one day they'll be telling stories about this crazy time they had and everyone is laughing but I won't be a part of that story because I'm at home with the baby. And then the baby looks up at me or makes a funny face while he's sleeping or grabs onto my finger and I realize I have this wonderful life that isn't any less wonderful because I missed out on that crazy time. But still... it's tough. It's hard being the only one. If I had other 'mom friends' it wouldn't be so bad because we could all tell stories about what our child did the other day. I know people that have had babies, but there is nobody here where I live that I'm close to and has a baby. Except my hairdresser. Is it bad that one of the highlights of my life is going to the hair salon so I can have 'mom conversation'? It can get lonely being the only one in this phase of my life. But I'm also not unhappy because I have a child, I'm actually really happy because he is amazing and he is my heart. I just wish I had someone here going through the same thing. He started smiling last week and it completely melts my heart when he smiles. And when I hold him to my chest it feels like he is hugging me. And that melts my heart too. I stare at him all the time. He looks absolutely nothing like me. I thought that would make me sad. But it doesn't at all. I'm just so full of emotions when I look at him that I don't care who he looks like. I just love looking into his eyes. Or watching him breathe. He completes me (Jerry McGuire moment?). I miss my friends, I miss my old life where all I had to worry about was me. But I absolutely love my new life with my son. I guess these feelings are yet another symptom of quarter-life crisis. Transition can be tough. But change is good. Change makes you stronger. And I'm a fan of strength. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631650892039900373-3195643722130766554?l=brynnrogel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/3195643722130766554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/07/one-man-wolfpack.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/3195643722130766554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/3195643722130766554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/07/one-man-wolfpack.html' title='One-Man Wolfpack'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631650892039900373.post-7255366914910208184</id><published>2009-07-05T13:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T14:24:16.879-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One of Those Days</title><content type='html'>It's one of those days. I like to think everyone has them sometimes and that it's not just me.  I'm talking about one of those days where you feel completely alone. And this is depressing. It doesn't matter if you are actually in a room by yourself or surrounded by 100 people... the feeling of loneliness is overwhelming. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Like nobody gets you, nobody understands you, and nobody wants to try to do so. Even though this is not completely true because you know if you called your close friend or maybe even your brother they would listen to you break down... either out of obligation or because they really want to... either way you don't want to do this. Because it is pointless... nothing will make this feeling go away. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm down at the beach which just so happens to be my favorite place in the world. But I can't even force a smile on my face. The boyfriend and I got into a huge fight and he left for Mississippi at 3 in the morning. My family is mad at me because we got into a fight. So that is lonely x's two. My friends are all having their fun at their 4th of July parties. Lonely x's three. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I sat on the balcony last night with Jax by my side and I watched the fireworks exploding across the bay. They were too far away to hear the loud booms which takes away 50% of the appeal. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought of about 10 different metaphors for the silent fireworks I watched alone that could easily apply to my life. My life isn't bad though... that's what makes this feeling so weird. I felt on top of the world 48 hours ago as I proudly held my son while my parents and the boyfriend smiled in awe at him. Life was great. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So this feeling has come over me like a case of food poisoning from Wendy's (it's happened twice... beware of the dollar menu) and it is intense. I try and think back on all those times where I sat crying over something that made me feel like my life was over and I would never smile again. After time had passed, each one of those nights is almost worthy of a laugh because they were so insignificant. The situation I had been in whether it had involved a boyfriend, my family, a friend, or just crazy hormones on the bottom of the life roller-coaster, seemed at the time to be the end-all be-all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But they never were. So that's what I keep telling myself to make this feeling not seem so freaking important and life-changing. Time will go by, things will work out. Jax will look up at me and smile and it will no doubt force me to smile back. My family will stop being mad at me (because they are family and forgiveness is their job I think). The boyfriend and I will either work it out or not work it out, but either way I'll be ok. And next time I'll make sure I'm where I can hear the fireworks and I'll look back at this day and laugh at how stupid it all was. Right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631650892039900373-7255366914910208184?l=brynnrogel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/7255366914910208184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/07/one-of-those-days.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/7255366914910208184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/7255366914910208184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/07/one-of-those-days.html' title='One of Those Days'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631650892039900373.post-5036826396173378620</id><published>2009-06-15T10:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T10:50:45.093-07:00</updated><title type='text'>COLLEGE</title><content type='html'>I've been thinking about college a lot lately, another symptom of quarter-life crisis. I think mostly just about how much I miss it. But I also think of things I wish I would have done differently. A lot of people say they wouldn't change a thing and that they learned from each experience. Not me, there are a lot of lessons I would have preferred to go without.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wish I wouldn't have let my first college crush Blair (yeah, it's a guy with a girl name) break my heart. Because of him and the next crush I refused to date any guy in a fraternity for the rest of my time at college and I feel I missed out on lots of possible great experiences because of this 'fraternity ban'.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wish I would have gotten more involved in my sorority and gotten to know my sorority sisters better.  It wasn't my first-choice sorority so I was angry at first. But there were so many wonderful girls in it that I became familiar with. I became close to some of them. But none of them became my best friends and that was my fault because I stayed distant. It's weird how much I miss them now, even the ones I barely got to know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would have spent more time at the sorority house. I would have gone there just to read a book in a rocking chair on the front porch. I would've hung out on the couch in the sitting room and talked about my day with whoever was around. I miss the smell of the fresh flowers that were always there. I miss the sound of the Crystal Light machines in the dining room. Weird that I miss the smallest things.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would have drank less.  I had a lot of fun times drinking, but I could've had just as much fun without the pounding of whiskey and beer and better yet I would remember those times instead of having a vague picture of it in my head. And probably feel a lot better the next day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would've had more girl friends instead of feeling more comfortable as 'one of the guys'.  I have learned it is so much better to have a good group of girl friends. Man I wish I would have realized that back then.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would have called my parents more. I wish they could have known more about what was going on in my life. Maybe if they did I wouldn't have gotten into so much trouble. I wish I had been close to them then like I am now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would have slept less.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would have gone to more campus activities. Sometimes I wouldn't go because I was tired, or  I couldn't find a cute outfit. I wasn't a hermit, I mean I went to things, but I should've gone to a lot more things.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would have studied abroad one semester.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would have gone to class more. I never thought I'd say that. But I should have gone more and been more interested in learning. Because now I miss learning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would've gotten in less arguments and let more things slide.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wouldn't have let the opinions of others make me question myself. If a guy didn't like me was it because I wasn't pretty enough or had gained the freshman fifteen, ok freshman twenty? If a girl was talking about me was it because I wasn't popular enough? So stupid, I'm glad I didn't stay like that very long.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would've spent more time single instead of always having a boyfriend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would have gone to every football game instead of staying in bed or being too lazy to find an outfit to wear to the Grove.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wouldn't have held grudges.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wouldn't have wasted my entire junior year on the world's biggest asshole boyfriend who I drove to see every week in Little Rock. I gave up my entire life in Oxford because I was constantly gone.  All for a loser. Man that sucks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would've gotten involved in student government and been in more clubs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would've spent more time working out and eating right. (This is the embarrassing one, but hey I'm being honest) I gained 25-30 pounds my freshman year and kept it on until my junior year. It made me self-conscious and if I would've just been more healthy I would've been a lot happier.  Switching pizza for a salad would've been worth being happier with myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would've been more mature.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would've spent more time in the Grove.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would've spent less time alone. I like being alone and having 'me time' but I think I should've spent more time with friends. It's better to have memories with friends than memories of you by yourself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wish I could go back and do it all over. I would do it so much better. I miss it a lot but I don't ever really think about it. When I graduated high school I missed it a lot but I never thought about it because I didn't want to be one of those people clinging to the past. But because I never thought about it, a lot of my memories faded. So maybe I will think about college and remember the good times. Because even though I have a long list of things I would've done differently, I had a blast and I have so many great memories. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's tough moving on. I don't like not having a class to go to or a test not to cram for. I miss the all-nighters fueled by Red Bull and adderall.  I miss late-night trips with friends to Wal Mart. I miss it all. But I can't miss it too much because that would be a waste of time. I just have to get used to this part of life. Quarter-life. It's time to make new memories. And hopefully when I am in my 30's I won't look back and make a long list beginning with 'I wish I would have...'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631650892039900373-5036826396173378620?l=brynnrogel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/5036826396173378620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/06/college.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/5036826396173378620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/5036826396173378620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/06/college.html' title='COLLEGE'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631650892039900373.post-4715918709320630888</id><published>2009-04-23T21:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T21:58:30.623-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Going Somewhere Fast</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Four years ago I was behind a broken windshield crashed into a telephone pole because I was drinking and driving. Three years ago I had become a Christian and realized who God is. Two years ago I was living in a tent on the side of a river with a daily habit of smoking weed. Obviously had ditched my relationship with the Creator I had previously fallen in love with. Tonight, I sit here staring at my moving belly realizing that in 3 weeks I will have a baby and my whole life will no longer be about me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;My life is a roller coaster.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;My favorite part of the roller coaster is the part where I met God. That year was the best year of my life. I think about Him a lot. But my mornings don't start off like they used to. I used to wake up and smile and feel Him with me and I'd start my day talking to Him. I won't get into the details of why my days were only like that for a year and a half. Things happen, you lose people, and the world doesn't make sense anymore. Going back to drinking and drugs made me forget the world didn't make sense. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;But here I am now, with this miracle in my belly. At first this miracle was just something I was completely freaked out about, I'm not married, I'm 24 with the maturity level of a 20-year old. I can't have a baby. But now I see this miracle as something that has made me personally grow so much. I've grown up in 8 months. But growing up makes me nervous, I have never liked grown-ups very much. They are all responsible. They don't take risks, They aren't spontaneous. They are,,, boring. I don't want to get boring. I don't think I will though. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;I'm obsessed with writing, it is who I am, it is my escape. But I haven't written in a while. Because I have forgotten who I am. I'm writing now. And I already feel better. Even though I haven't made any sort of point. I still feel better. Maybe I'll make a point next time. Maybe not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3631650892039900373-4715918709320630888?l=brynnrogel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/feeds/4715918709320630888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/04/going-somewhere-fast.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/4715918709320630888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3631650892039900373/posts/default/4715918709320630888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brynnrogel.blogspot.com/2009/04/going-somewhere-fast.html' title='Going Somewhere Fast'/><author><name>Brynn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G-J7-7bFHWo/THckwGl9UJI/AAAAAAAAANI/VrO-DvsaX7c/S220/photobooth3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
