<?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-2582521168514854980</id><updated>2012-01-18T01:43:05.740-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Veronica Wright</title><subtitle type='html'>She's 17. She has a job. She has a license. She works with photography and loves it. With some crazy friends and a gaggle of opportunities, she's staring life in the face and laughing at it, simply because she can. Welcome to her world.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06543232941483799664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2582521168514854980.post-8106314359997009582</id><published>2008-03-27T08:42:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T08:46:18.497-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Technology Addictions - what is yours?!</title><content type='html'>Cell phone addictions. I'm addicted to my cell phone. I'll admit it. Supposedly admitting it is the first step. I left my poor, precious cellular phone in a friends car last night and now I have no cell phone (nor will I until Saturday night). I'm going through withdrawals, and have had to rely on my aunt's cell phone, but it's not the same. It doesn't have the same ringtone or the same games. It doesn't have text messaging capabilities. It doesn't have my familiar flip-top that I've become oh-so-accustomed to. It's nice, but not the same. It made me realize just how harsh this world of cell phone addicts has become!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talking of technology, my cousin was on the computer the other day. He had four AIM windows open in addition to MySpace. He is the epitome of a technology-centered teenage boy. I laugh, because that was me a year ago. So it would seem I go from one technology addiction to another!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xxx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2582521168514854980-8106314359997009582?l=roses-and-tears.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/feeds/8106314359997009582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2582521168514854980&amp;postID=8106314359997009582&amp;isPopup=true' title='61 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default/8106314359997009582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default/8106314359997009582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/2008/03/technology-addictions-what-is-yours.html' title='Technology Addictions - what is yours?!'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06543232941483799664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>61</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2582521168514854980.post-2480588143787593636</id><published>2008-02-25T09:55:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T10:02:43.315-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just that extra hour pleeeeease!</title><content type='html'>Things right now are mad! Crazy! My life is insainly busy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been on the computer for what feels like forever. I opened my email box today to find a huge wade of emails waiting for me that I should have replied to about 2 weeks ago.  Ooops...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do we not have 25 hours per a day?! Right now I could do with an extra hour a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And once again I'm being called away. Work to do and people that need my attention. My life has offically gone into overdrive!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take care!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2582521168514854980-2480588143787593636?l=roses-and-tears.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/feeds/2480588143787593636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2582521168514854980&amp;postID=2480588143787593636&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default/2480588143787593636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default/2480588143787593636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/2008/02/just-that-extra-hour-pleeeeease.html' title='Just that extra hour pleeeeease!'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06543232941483799664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2582521168514854980.post-3717452740365990367</id><published>2008-01-27T08:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-27T10:32:59.840-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Meet the family! (Well, on member at least!)</title><content type='html'>This post is going to be delicated my dear aunt who I realised barely, if ever, gets a mention on here. And she damn well deserves to!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She doesn't like boys, especially the teenage ones between the ages of 18 and 25. She is my legal gardian and any boy that comes near me (this often times includes my 19-year-old cousin) is evil. She should know; shes had enough trouble over the years with them! So, everytime I talk about getting together with my boyfriend, her eye twitches a little bit. I do have to give her credit, though-- she's doing the best that she can and she didn't have to take me in and sign a bunch of complicated papers just to say that she would accept full responsiblity for me. She trusts me, but only because he knows that I've been engrained with many anti-boy lectures from the moment I arrived in her house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She also trusts me with the car, but only because she was the one who taught me how to drive. To give you a little background as to how challenging this was, my aunt likes to drive a very consistent five miles per hour under the speed limit and obeys every road rule known to the Department of Motor Vehicles. I also had to learn on a standard transmission or I didn't drive; there was no other option. So, the first time she took me out on the road, I went too fast, gave her severe whiplash, and she yelled and screamed and told me not to cut off any school buses (and yes, I did almost cut off a school bus). She made me drive everywhere, even if I had absolutely no interest or desire in doing so. And yes, my aunt made me drive up many a steep hill so I'd really learn how to catch that clutch. Because of her insane home version of driver education (she claimed to be a far harsher judge than any of those fools at the DMV, who actually let teenagers have their licenses), I passed my driver's test, and now don't want to drive anything but a manual transmission. It was a sometimes painful seven month trek, but it was actually the closed time of our relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She always wants me to figure things out for myself. If I want to go to college, I have to be the one to take the initiative in my studies and applications to get myself there. If I want to write a blog, go for it, but I have to be the one to actually sit down and write it. If I want to make money, go out and get a job. If I want to be successful, I have to go out there and do something about it. She's very pragmatic, but that has helped me infinitely in life. I know I'll survive when I'm independent because my aunt is the best planner of the century.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2582521168514854980-3717452740365990367?l=roses-and-tears.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/feeds/3717452740365990367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2582521168514854980&amp;postID=3717452740365990367&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default/3717452740365990367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default/3717452740365990367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/2008/01/meet-family-well-on-member-at-least.html' title='Meet the family! (Well, on member at least!)'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06543232941483799664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2582521168514854980.post-6810414600007769519</id><published>2008-01-08T11:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-08T11:04:27.681-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And my New Years Resolution is....?!</title><content type='html'>We all make them. We all break them. It's the pattern of life. Occasionally, one or two of us will get lucky and manage to not eat fast food for 365 days. A person might finally get the will power to quit smoking. But the big ones that everyone makes - I will not lie, I will not doubt - those no one can keep. It's asking yourself to defy human nature. It's simply not possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't mean to sound like a cynic, but every year I make a New Years Resolution that I know I'll break. The biggest is generally "I will start consistently doing my homework all the time." Unfortunately, I never am able to keep that one...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this year, I'm going to try and defy the odds. I'm going to make a New Years Resolution to myself to keep my relatively realistic New Years Resolutions. The homework one is not included.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to tell you what my resolutions are, however. A friend told me tonight, as I was trying to get him to write out his list of resolutions, that if you write it out, it's not a resolution. That if you tell other people, it's not a resolution. A resolution, he said, is something you decide for yourself. You don't need to write it down to remember it, and you don't need to tell other people to have them badger or make fun of you. You just resolve yourself and you do it. No questions asked, no doubts, and no post-its necessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like that philosophy. The idea that not documenting a resolution could be the very factor that could make you keep it. That way it's not just a stereotypical ideal you won't follow through with. It's something you do because you want to do it for yourself. Not just because the New Year came around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, cheers to you all. It looks like it's going to be yet another wild year...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2582521168514854980-6810414600007769519?l=roses-and-tears.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/feeds/6810414600007769519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2582521168514854980&amp;postID=6810414600007769519&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default/6810414600007769519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default/6810414600007769519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/2008/01/and-my-new-years-resolution-is.html' title='And my New Years Resolution is....?!'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06543232941483799664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2582521168514854980.post-4511913062938369682</id><published>2007-12-16T10:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-17T09:55:17.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Winter Blue's.</title><content type='html'>Winter break has started, and it makes me sad. I miss my friends already. I could keep myself busy but I seem to be suffering from a serve case of lack of motivation. Winter just makes me want to curl up in my bed and not wake up until spring. It's such a miserable time with dull weather and nothing to keep my mind going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m listening to Christmas music, but, alas, I’m not in the holiday spirit. &lt;em&gt;Sigh&lt;/em&gt;. I don’t think I will be, I have so much hatred for this season. I don’t think it helps that I’m bored either. So far today, I’ve cleaned my room, checked my email, and listened to music. &lt;em&gt;Exiting&lt;/em&gt;. I miss my friends so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I hope you are feeling joyful and Christmas-y even if I'm not! Have a great Christmas and I will talk to you all in 2008.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Veronica&lt;br /&gt;x&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Check out my bookshelf! Scroll down a bit and its on the right! =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2582521168514854980-4511913062938369682?l=roses-and-tears.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/feeds/4511913062938369682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2582521168514854980&amp;postID=4511913062938369682&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default/4511913062938369682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default/4511913062938369682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/2007/12/winter-blues.html' title='Winter Blue&apos;s.'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06543232941483799664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2582521168514854980.post-2392236203679585451</id><published>2007-11-19T10:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T11:01:04.579-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I need a cigarette</title><content type='html'>I was told today that i didn’t know what i wanted. I was told that i was unintelligent. I was told that my life was heading nowhere. I was told all this… then i ran away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve never ran so fast away from someone before. As if her words were knives that were attacking who i was forever going to be. I wanted her to know so badly that i am not a complete fuck up… but i was defenseless. Everything i could tell her would never have made a dent in what she already felt she knew of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i ran. Literally ran to my car and drove away. She chased me, calling after me, “young lady.”&lt;br /&gt;I’m afraid. Not of my life, but of what you might have to say about my life. It makes me wonder what you see when you look at me: a hopeless mess. No future, because she has set no goals. No goals, because she is afraid of what it will mean when she fails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t really know what i want to say, because honestly i have nothing to say. You don’t really know me. You've never met me. And that hurts my feelings for some reason.&lt;br /&gt;Who’s to say why it hurts… I leave my thoughts open ended, as if you are supposed to know what goes in the blank...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2582521168514854980-2392236203679585451?l=roses-and-tears.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/feeds/2392236203679585451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2582521168514854980&amp;postID=2392236203679585451&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default/2392236203679585451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default/2392236203679585451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/2007/11/i-need-cigarette.html' title='I need a cigarette'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06543232941483799664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2582521168514854980.post-8141456333249600243</id><published>2007-11-02T10:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-02T10:25:27.076-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween 2007; now and then.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;When we were young, I remember my mom used to make the neatest Halloween costumes for us. Even if I was creative, I doubt I could manage to pull off some of the costumes she whipped up for us. She used to dress as a witch and . and when I was really young she even made a mini-me witch outfit exactly like hers. Not many moms did that and I'm not so sure many go to that extreme even now. As with all the holidays, she always seemed to enjoy helping make Halloween special. I think she liked dressing up and being crazy just as much as the next kid. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss that. Halloween used to be really fun. After she died, my dad still used to take me trick or treating but I never seemed to have a proper costume. Just a cheap one that I bough from in town. For some years after, I didn't bother trick or treating. It seemed just a distant memory of childhood fun and seeing as I was now I teenager, I didn't feel that it was my place. It was never fun anymore. Just childish and silly and a memory. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year was different though. I did do something for halloween. I dressed up again. Me and a few friends decided we deserved fun too at halloween regardless of our age or past events. And you know what? I had one of the best times in my entire life. We laughed, we joked and we had so much fun trick and treating. People didn't look like we were mad, they laughed along with us. I don't know why I was so scared. Nobody cares. And neither do I anymore. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This halloween I think I learnt one of life's most important lessons; &lt;strong&gt;Sometimes you have to let go and forget the past for a few innocent hours.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i28.photobucket.com/albums/c214/freak_on_me/other/1272daf0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2582521168514854980-8141456333249600243?l=roses-and-tears.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/feeds/8141456333249600243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2582521168514854980&amp;postID=8141456333249600243&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default/8141456333249600243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default/8141456333249600243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/2007/11/halloween-2007-now-and-then.html' title='Halloween 2007; now and then.'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06543232941483799664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i28.photobucket.com/albums/c214/freak_on_me/other/th_1272daf0.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2582521168514854980.post-6702834288462196510</id><published>2007-10-20T08:12:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-20T08:34:05.705-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Fake America. What a surprise!</title><content type='html'>I wasted two hours of my life reading the newspaper today. It was strange. It made me feel like I was out of touch. I haven’t read the newspaper in probably,...well..., ever.&lt;br /&gt;By reading the newspaper and getting back in touch with the media, I learnt that:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;War&lt;/strong&gt; - what is it good for? Nothing.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Obese America?&lt;/strong&gt; Let’s get anorexic together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Internet?&lt;/strong&gt; Emails can get misconstruded so you should not use them as a cop out from real face to face communication.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The news to me, is really bogus. I’d hate to be a journalist; you feed the nation crap and watch as they swallow it whole. Infact it is nothing but a random and insignificant thought but hey! you're a journalist so lets manipulate it and feed it to people! Most only care about what is crammed into a paper because they want to sound educated. I'm fed up of having to dig in the dirt for the truth because it got buried under a bunch of fucking lies. It makes my nails hurt. And then the media have the nerve to ask 'why aren't young people interesting in the news?'. Possibly because the news is fake. The news isn't news. Its lies and totally exagerated facts. And that it the first and the last time that I bother to read the news. My nails better toughen up, cause they are gonna have to keep on digging. I ain't settling for the news and its crap. I want the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now why does that statement strike fear into the heart of every journalist in America?....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2582521168514854980-6702834288462196510?l=roses-and-tears.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/feeds/6702834288462196510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2582521168514854980&amp;postID=6702834288462196510&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default/6702834288462196510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default/6702834288462196510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/2007/10/fake-america-what-surprise.html' title='Fake America. What a surprise!'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06543232941483799664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2582521168514854980.post-2841843932174491717</id><published>2007-10-11T07:54:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T08:11:24.106-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Unknown answers to my questions.</title><content type='html'>Sometimes, people say that the believe that they were put on earth for a reason. To do what every it is that they do. Writer say that they are on earth to bring their words to the public. Artists say that they are on earth to fill the world with a different take on life with their art. Voluntary workers say that they are here to save and help those less fortunate than themselves. The list goes on and on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I don't feel like that. I am a writer and a photographer, and I feel nothing. I have no idea why I exsist in this life. On this earth. What my purpose is - I just don't know. It got me wondering, why am I here? Everyone else seems to know except me. It annoys me. I know that I want to carrying on writing and taking my beloved camera everywhere but that doesn't mean that that was what I was suppose to do. God didn't give me a misson; 'you must fill the world with your words Veronica and write at every possible opportunity.' I just do it because I like it and enjoy it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've come to realise that you can't keep on questioning life. Its impossible. You'll just go around in circles asking the same questions again and again to the sky. You don't alway get answers in life. You have to accept the unknown and move on. I've wasted too much time in my life asking questions and getting stupidly fustrated when there is no reply. It wont bother me anymore. I'll make sure of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2582521168514854980-2841843932174491717?l=roses-and-tears.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/feeds/2841843932174491717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2582521168514854980&amp;postID=2841843932174491717&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default/2841843932174491717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default/2841843932174491717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/2007/10/sometimes-people-say-that-believe-that.html' title='Unknown answers to my questions.'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06543232941483799664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2582521168514854980.post-4320939018508574399</id><published>2007-10-05T10:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-05T10:59:09.566-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Coming Home Again.</title><content type='html'>Hello again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes I do still exist and I am going to offically start this blog now. I'm sorry for the wait; things have been a little somewhat hetic and crazy lately. Too many people fell off the tracks of life and we all had to stop and help them back on the right road. Does that make sense? Perhaps not but it does in my mind amongst all of the mess that's lying cluttered on the floor of my poor brain. Its been having to think very hard lately, mainly on the behalf of other people who couldn't think for themselves. But I'm glad I help everyone. It made me feel a better person. And that's a good thing, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things will will soon be back to normal. Trust me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Veronica&lt;br /&gt;x&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2582521168514854980-4320939018508574399?l=roses-and-tears.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/feeds/4320939018508574399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2582521168514854980&amp;postID=4320939018508574399&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default/4320939018508574399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2582521168514854980/posts/default/4320939018508574399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roses-and-tears.blogspot.com/2007/10/coming-home-again.html' title='Coming Home Again.'/><author><name>Veronica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06543232941483799664</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
