<?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-4528638038644859861</id><updated>2011-04-21T18:52:53.088-04:00</updated><title type='text'>longer than this road i travel</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>41</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-9096932645255199120</id><published>2008-06-06T22:53:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-06T22:59:52.012-04:00</updated><title type='text'>he loves me.</title><content type='html'>apparently, i underestimate that God love me&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;. this is probably at least partially true&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;. i don't like the way it sounds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;. i feel like it is another part of my brokenness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;. one that i was mostly unaware of previously&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;. regardless, something that needs to be fixed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i don't think this is something that i can work on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;. like it can't be a project&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;. i think the biggest thing is letting myself rest in that train of thought&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;. i don't know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;. i feel like i can't just wake up tomorrow morning thoroughly convinced that God loves Andra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;. for who she is&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;. for who she is not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish i could explain this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-9096932645255199120?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/9096932645255199120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=9096932645255199120' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/9096932645255199120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/9096932645255199120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/06/he-loves-me.html' title='he loves me.'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-1029805074197259110</id><published>2008-06-06T00:20:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-06T00:21:45.694-04:00</updated><title type='text'>scared of the truth</title><content type='html'>do you ever experience those moments when you hear the truth, but then are afraid to face it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yeah, that is me right now. running from what i know to be true. i am not surprised by this truth... rather not quite ready to confront it...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-1029805074197259110?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/1029805074197259110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=1029805074197259110' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/1029805074197259110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/1029805074197259110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/06/scared-of-truth.html' title='scared of the truth'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-3206856714400771728</id><published>2008-06-04T00:38:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-04T00:52:37.563-04:00</updated><title type='text'>rejection</title><content type='html'>i was watching the bachelorette, and one of the guys that didn't get a rose (ahem, had to go home) said this in his exit interview: "she didn't reject me. she just chose other guys." what?! no, that was pure rejection. don't be arrogant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is not a pity-invite for anyone. in fact, i think that one of our biggest commonalities as humans is the rejection that we face. i have been rejected, and it is more than likely that the people reading this blog have too. that is ok. it hurts, it causes our heart to ache, but in the end, we are better people for experiencing the pain. maybe the only thing that makes us better is the point in which we decide that we will not inflict pain in the same way that we have dealt with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;maybe that is a more major point in life than i give credit. i mean, so many of the things that we experience are valuable only in the light that it makes us better suited to understand others in similar positions. i would never wish tragedy on someone, but those who have faced it are the best at giving comfort to those still in the midst. our experiences can build us to better give to others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or we can look at our circumstances and pity ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this time, i am not doing the pity thing. i don't want to go through the coping mechanisms. granted, i have still had my fair share of haagen-daz. but i refuse to be consumed with "poor-me." i have been there, done that, felt the pain, and held onto it for too long. now is the time to change. the time to recognize that this brokenness can be used to make m more whole. to better understand myself. and eventually to be a better friend to someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not to be trite or repetitive, but man. i keep thinking about two things. respect and words. respect because if you care about someone, you are more careful (in a good way). words because no matter what i have read or been told, i keep coming back to the fact that they matter. words always matter. and it is the times that we underestimate them and the weight they carry that we hurt others the most.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-3206856714400771728?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/3206856714400771728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=3206856714400771728' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/3206856714400771728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/3206856714400771728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/06/rejection.html' title='rejection'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-8138574980911238596</id><published>2008-06-03T23:59:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-04T00:53:29.362-04:00</updated><title type='text'>respect</title><content type='html'>ok, so the areatha franklin's lyrics may be running through my head, but i feel like it is not too much to ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the way that we respect others is the physical manifestation of our thoughts about them. when we respect someone, we are careful with their time: we give advance notice for important situations. this is not to condemn spontaneity, simply to say that if it is significant, prior planning is good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a pastor once said that he knows how parents talk about him in their home by the way that their children treat him at church.  and it is true.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-8138574980911238596?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/8138574980911238596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=8138574980911238596' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/8138574980911238596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/8138574980911238596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/06/respect.html' title='respect'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-8575064846288283389</id><published>2008-06-03T11:32:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-03T11:34:16.573-04:00</updated><title type='text'>busy</title><content type='html'>this is supposed to be summer&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;. things are supposed to be relaxed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;. but instead i still find myself rushing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;. my days are still packed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;. all this to say that i cannot wait to go home in a week and a half&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;. i am ready for life to really slow down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;. a lot&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-8575064846288283389?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/8575064846288283389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=8575064846288283389' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/8575064846288283389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/8575064846288283389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/06/busy.html' title='busy'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-1698015790079580960</id><published>2008-05-26T23:33:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T23:39:32.173-04:00</updated><title type='text'>350 challenge</title><content type='html'>ok, so i added the badge. because i have become something like a tree-hugger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;coffee at ww is officially green now... and a friend posted the 350 challenge on his blog, so here we go again. i know this is small. but the small things add up. the less gas, the less unnecessary waste, the less carelessness, the better off we all are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think that it comes down to the idea that taking care of the earth makes us all better. it's just healthy to be a wise steward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://350.brighterplanet.com/"&gt;so take the challenge... be green! &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-1698015790079580960?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/1698015790079580960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=1698015790079580960' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/1698015790079580960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/1698015790079580960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/05/350-challenge.html' title='350 challenge'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-731224518886033826</id><published>2008-05-26T15:59:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T16:01:09.317-04:00</updated><title type='text'>day off</title><content type='html'>i'm taking today off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;by that i mean that i slept in, went to the memorial day parade, and now i am just doing whatever crafty things i feel like. this si so nice. i can't remember the last time that i just chilled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no worry allowed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-731224518886033826?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/731224518886033826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=731224518886033826' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/731224518886033826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/731224518886033826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/05/day-off.html' title='day off'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-2039648066879192655</id><published>2008-05-25T16:49:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-25T16:54:30.065-04:00</updated><title type='text'>invigorate my soul</title><content type='html'>let my cry come right into your presence, God;&lt;br /&gt;provide me with the insight that comes only from your Word.&lt;br /&gt;give my request your personal attention,&lt;br /&gt;rescue me on the terms of your promise.&lt;br /&gt;let praise cascade off my lips;&lt;br /&gt;after all, you've taught me the truth about life!&lt;br /&gt;and let your promises ring from my tongue;&lt;br /&gt;every order you've given is right.&lt;br /&gt;put your hand out and steady me&lt;br /&gt;since i've chosen to live by your counsel.&lt;br /&gt;i'm homesick, God, for your salvation;&lt;br /&gt;i love it when you show yourself!&lt;br /&gt;invigorate my soul so i can praise you well,&lt;br /&gt;use your decrees to put iron in my soul.&lt;br /&gt;and should i wander off like a lost sheep--seek me!&lt;br /&gt;i'll recognize the sound of your voice.&lt;br /&gt;psalm 119: 169-176&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-2039648066879192655?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/2039648066879192655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=2039648066879192655' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/2039648066879192655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/2039648066879192655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/05/invigorate-my-soul.html' title='invigorate my soul'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-5175544392798396260</id><published>2008-05-25T13:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-25T14:14:28.024-04:00</updated><title type='text'>oh martha</title><content type='html'>does anyone else think it is ironic that martha from the bible is reborn in martha stewart?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so we all know the story of mary and martha... mary is listening to Jesus, while martha is running around, making sure that everything is happening the right way at the right time, etc. martha gets upset with mary, and Jesus points out that mary has her priorities straight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;right now, i am martha. i am doing, doing, doing. knowing that i need to take time to refresh, but not. i need to recharge. i need to stop driving so hard that i miss everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i realized last night that i am not finding joy in living. i just push from moment to moment, relieved that each one passes. i don't have fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;who am i? why have i become this machine? where is my heart?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;can i love life again? really love it? can i learn to laugh again? to be light?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how is it at the ripe-old-age of 20 that i cannot name the last time that i really had &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fun&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-5175544392798396260?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/5175544392798396260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=5175544392798396260' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/5175544392798396260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/5175544392798396260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/05/oh-martha.html' title='oh martha'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-3435745090521535111</id><published>2008-05-25T13:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-25T13:47:04.229-04:00</updated><title type='text'>strong warrior... little girl</title><content type='html'>sometimes, I can be so strong. I will fight for people, for relationships, for the things that i believe in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but then, at the same time, i feel like the little girl. lost, bewildered, unsure of what to do of where to go. waiting, hoping for a rescue. for someone to step in for me. someone to step in to shield me, to heal me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this year has been so hard. there have been so many fights. not fights with people, just fighting to make it through. to keep serving. to keep being a student. this year, i have had to fight to remain, not just to maintain. always knowing that people are watching. that people notice. striving to be happy, when i still feel broken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i feel like i give and give with no basis. i have created this image. this side of me that is always available for friends. and it is a very true part of me. i will drop everything and anything for a friend in need. i love that part of me. i do. but that doesn't make me perfect, and it does not make me whole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as of this moment, i am missing it. i am not whole. and i know why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it is because i am not relying on Jesus. i have once again walked away. thinking that i can do things on my own terms, with my own strength. i am in control. i always think that it will be easier this way. that it is easier to handle issues by myself than to give them over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one of my pastors has been blogging about prayer recently and it is so refreshing to hear what he has to say. to read what he is willing to admit. and to know that we share many commonalities. to know that i am not the only one who struggles with that conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish that i was one of those people that prayed, and prayed, and never quit. i wish. but again and again, i find myself not giving time to be still or even time to tell Jesus what is really going on. i know that i need to... not because i am a Christian... just because i need that relationship. i know that i need him. i need him for the everyday things that come up. i need him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the hardest thing is admitting that. admitting that i am not self-sufficient. my success is not my own. it is because he is backing me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so maybe this is blah blah blah to you, reader. vagabond is lost again on this journey. but for me, it is learning that i must step out of this circle into a conversation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-3435745090521535111?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/3435745090521535111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=3435745090521535111' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/3435745090521535111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/3435745090521535111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/05/strong-warrior-little-girl.html' title='strong warrior... little girl'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-8411090628954565529</id><published>2008-05-23T00:44:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T00:54:04.936-04:00</updated><title type='text'>caged</title><content type='html'>It is May, and my mind has room to think again. Time to look back at this year and see who I was.  But the more that I examine the year, the more I see how constricted I became. Rules, rules and more rules. I do not want that to be who I am. Yet, it is the black hole that I am most familiar with. I think I spent the whole year being the RA that I was supposed to be, which means that I spent the whole year not being my true self. I cannot say that I was not myself at all... I was. It just wasn't the whole me. It was the "by the book" me. It was the me that I so often wish to escape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want my soul to breathe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I cannot force it. That would not solve anything. This whole year has been forced. I am so fatigued... being an RA is tough. Conforming to the idea of a great RA is more tough. And now, after a year of caging myself in the perception of greatness, I must break free.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-8411090628954565529?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/8411090628954565529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=8411090628954565529' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/8411090628954565529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/8411090628954565529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/05/caged.html' title='caged'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-2776658187462838909</id><published>2008-05-08T14:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T01:49:47.075-04:00</updated><title type='text'>if you don't</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;after listening to shane &amp;amp; shane talk about meshach, shadrach &amp;amp; abednego, i continued to be haunted by my response to a lack of deliverance. what would i do if God really did not show up? I struggle to admit that I would probably not have the same attitude of Rach, Shach &amp;amp; Benny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so i walk away praying, "God, I want to love you like that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-2776658187462838909?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/2776658187462838909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=2776658187462838909' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/2776658187462838909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/2776658187462838909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/05/if-you-dont.html' title='if you don&apos;t'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-5280691340968177522</id><published>2008-05-06T14:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T15:05:49.471-04:00</updated><title type='text'>pfff.</title><content type='html'>life is more than a little crazy right now. i would love to just be with friends and not do all of my projects... but it's that time. time for knots in my shoulders, headaches, terrible eating habits, and plenty of diet coke. time to put all that knowledge into practice, to put all the thoughts in my head onto paper. I hate this time of the semester... but at the same time, i love the adrenaline. I mean each week has gotten a little bit more difficult, and it is about to peak. By Friday, almost all deadlines will be met and the downhill race will begin. Needless to say, I am particularly excited to see May 18!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-5280691340968177522?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/5280691340968177522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=5280691340968177522' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/5280691340968177522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/5280691340968177522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/05/pfff.html' title='pfff.'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-6894240880506495102</id><published>2008-04-29T23:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T01:34:05.973-04:00</updated><title type='text'>dragging my feet</title><content type='html'>this past weekend, i attended a conference on women in leadership... and one thought stuck out in particular: "never handle a paper more than once." i know that sounds so simple, but in the past few days, i have spent a lot of time watching how many times i deal with the same thing. for example, i have gotten ready to write a particular set of papers several times, and then i get distracted. and as i sit typing this thought out, i am procrastinating even further. talk about hypocrisy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in short, i would like to finish what i start when i start it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-6894240880506495102?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/6894240880506495102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=6894240880506495102' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/6894240880506495102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/6894240880506495102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/04/dragging-my-feet.html' title='dragging my feet'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-1485544738845764295</id><published>2008-04-29T10:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T10:36:05.846-04:00</updated><title type='text'>yawn</title><content type='html'>i'm yawning... it's one of those days when being awake is just a struggle. i need to get more sleep. and i need to be done with this semester... three more weeks and i can catch up on that sleep, read the books on my shelf, and finish all the projects on my list...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-1485544738845764295?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/1485544738845764295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=1485544738845764295' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/1485544738845764295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/1485544738845764295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/04/yawn.html' title='yawn'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-6841287230240892206</id><published>2008-04-25T15:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T15:39:02.415-04:00</updated><title type='text'>malaria</title><content type='html'>malaria.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a preventable disease that has killed more people than i could count. its World Malaria Day and my facebook picture is black to represent what losing that many people to malaria would be like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it will never cease to amaze me that most of the problems in the world share one commonality: they were preventable. oh yeah, and the fact that we have not stopped them. what is it about us as human that we can see something that is inherently wrong, but either forget about it or simply go back to living our lives. i say this because i am selfish too. i am a college student in the midwest. there are so many things that i could/should be doing, yet for the time being, the best i can do is to offer up a prayer: that the right person with the right resources will step in at the right time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but still, where is my nobility? where is the drive that transforms passion into compassion?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in all of this, i guess my point is that i don't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;want&lt;/span&gt; to spend my life living for me. it just isn't acceptable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-6841287230240892206?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/6841287230240892206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=6841287230240892206' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/6841287230240892206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/6841287230240892206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/04/malaria.html' title='malaria'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-2627152867435775738</id><published>2008-04-24T15:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T15:22:25.161-04:00</updated><title type='text'>down the road</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;"free and easy down the road i go" sings dierk bentley in my head&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class=""&gt;. wait, no. he is not in my head. his song is stuck in my head. regardless... that sounds like such a nice idea. i miss driving till i feel that liberty. unfortunately, the gas that it takes to make those trips costs $3.69 a gallon... thus making the price of freedom too high. alright. time to stop complaining and start looking for new liberty. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class=""&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-2627152867435775738?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/2627152867435775738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=2627152867435775738' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/2627152867435775738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/2627152867435775738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/04/down-road.html' title='down the road'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-6088553672517785213</id><published>2008-04-24T02:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T02:49:19.051-04:00</updated><title type='text'>something to say</title><content type='html'>"in essential beliefs unity&lt;br /&gt;in non essential beliefs liberty&lt;br /&gt;in all our beliefs charity"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="display: block;" id="formatbar_Buttons"&gt;&lt;span class="on" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_CreateLink" title="Link" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 8);ButtonMouseDown(this);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i stole this from &lt;a href="www.sevenoseven.com"&gt;sevenoseven&lt;/a&gt;... but it is so great. it handles so much of the tension that i dwell in here at school. i go to the "controversial" church. the one that gets put down. the one that people question. and thats good. we should all question why we like what we like. but at this stage of the game, we're talking preferences. you say that the set is a distraction... i say art makes me want to worship. ok, are we better for this conversation? is your mind changed? is mine?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i guess what my point in all of this writing is that i wish that I practiced the above theology on a more day to day level. i often think that i don't want to reduce my blogs to "stop the hate," but so many times, it just seems so freaking applicable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-6088553672517785213?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/6088553672517785213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=6088553672517785213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/6088553672517785213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/6088553672517785213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/04/something-to-say.html' title='something to say'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-2072064917113754790</id><published>2008-04-22T21:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T21:59:02.029-04:00</updated><title type='text'>runnin' ragged</title><content type='html'>sometimes it feels like i am just running on the caffeine that i had earlier today. like nothing will ever be complete. . . and i will never have spent my time as wisely as i could have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today was not a bad day. i spent over an hour talking to my mom, which was great. there is always so much to talk about. . . to think about. she always encourages me to max my potential. . . even if  it means that her comfort zone will be affected. she understands independence better than anyone i know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my major is also officially changed! woot woot! graduating next spring with my bachelor's in psychology! talk about craziness. my undergraduate experience is going to be over in 13 months. it's so strange to think about the fact that i am finally in the place that i've always dreamed of being. as a little kid, i always thought that my early twenties were going to be the epitome of cool.  and even though i will always hope that the best is yet to come, these are pretty sweet times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;speaking of a lack of time. . . in a month, my girls are leaving for the summer. the residents that i have loved and served are heading out to live their lives. i could never express my gratefulness for the way that they have welcomed me into their community. these are women that are so gifted in so many different directions. . . yet the connection they share is awesome. i cannot even tell you how much i will miss living with them next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in a month, i will be someone else's ra. for just a few short weeks, i will get to live with some girls in a village. they'll be in class... i'll be enjoying the time where my whole purpose is to be relational... and you know, the nuts and bolts stuff too... but really, what a sweet summer gig.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and right now... and by that i mean in ten minutes... it will be time for the first all staff meeting for the ra's of the 08-09 school year. and so begins the cycle... all over again. can't believe that we're here again!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-2072064917113754790?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/2072064917113754790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=2072064917113754790' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/2072064917113754790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/2072064917113754790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/04/runnin-ragged.html' title='runnin&apos; ragged'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-208030227797092741</id><published>2008-04-16T23:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T00:11:00.930-04:00</updated><title type='text'>good-bye friend.</title><content type='html'>it is so simple, but we all fall into the trap. we hang onto things, people, and ideas... even when we know that the best thing to do would be to let them go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so here i am at the end of my junior year of college, thinking that there is so much to let go of. and that would be the reason that i have almost exploded several times lately in the face of people who are clinging to dear life to various dreams, relationships, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my people-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Lego&lt;/span&gt; is changing. again. those who have shared in my life this far are a collage of the wonderful, the hurtful, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;successful&lt;/span&gt;, the beautiful, the loving, the using, and the list goes on and on. so i take this time to say thank you, and good-bye at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to one in particular, (though you may never read this, it should be said) i have had to say good-bye to you this week. you have often been a security blanket: one who is stable in difficult times. you have been encouragement, challenge, and a smile. you have had the power to hurt or to heal. you have been one to be bragged about. you just have. but now is the time for me to let go. to say that i can no longer be selfish: the person who is getting you is lucky. and i respect her, so i will say: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you have been&lt;/span&gt;. i release you to be that for someone else. thank you, and good-bye my friend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-208030227797092741?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/208030227797092741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=208030227797092741' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/208030227797092741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/208030227797092741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/04/good-bye-friend.html' title='good-bye friend.'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-4810881385555967302</id><published>2008-04-14T00:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-14T00:34:19.310-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the fight</title><content type='html'>it is like constant noise. it is not like screaming. it is like a constant rushing of loud static. it is like the point where you cover your ears and wait for it to end. it stops you from normal thought and distracts your attention. things are said and done that are not logical. things in the name of nobility, integrity, etc. but really, said in the name of needing an excuse. a way out of answering for behavior that is obviously out of character... outside of the norm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is not guilt. this is fear. fear of what true consequences could come. fear of thoughts being heard. fear that something that starts like a spark will become the raging fire. this is the fear that comes when words and actions wobble on the top of the rail.  this is not a tangible issue.&lt;br /&gt;this is the struggle for courage over cowardice. this is the fight to save face. this is the fight to become the ideal, instead of remaining the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is the time to fight. through the noise. through the thoughts. through this battle. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-4810881385555967302?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/4810881385555967302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=4810881385555967302' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/4810881385555967302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/4810881385555967302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/04/fight.html' title='the fight'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-1164346748939214123</id><published>2008-04-11T12:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T12:18:32.392-04:00</updated><title type='text'>start somewhere</title><content type='html'>i am overwhelmed by the brokenness that i see. there are so many injustices to be fought. where can i even begin? it is not as if i live in most of this injustice. yet i can see those who are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have so many wishes. i wish that the children of atlanta were going to all have places to live later this year. i wish that those children could all have educations. i wish they could escape the HIV. i wish that someone could step in and give them hope, tell them they have potential.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my wishes are idealistic. i know this. but something has to change and it has to start somewhere. so let it start with me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-1164346748939214123?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/1164346748939214123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=1164346748939214123' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/1164346748939214123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/1164346748939214123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/04/start-somewhere.html' title='start somewhere'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-6953749070786071644</id><published>2008-03-25T10:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T10:34:55.461-04:00</updated><title type='text'>mind explosion</title><content type='html'>the words of jars of clay "i'm not giving up on giving You a chance to blow my mind" run through my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;atlanta was just that. in all the small ways that i would not have imagined. and coming back, i cannot deny that God didn't fit in the box that i had made.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-6953749070786071644?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/6953749070786071644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=6953749070786071644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/6953749070786071644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/6953749070786071644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/03/mind-explosion.html' title='mind explosion'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-6219709204600191330</id><published>2008-02-27T12:20:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T12:28:30.360-05:00</updated><title type='text'>compromise</title><content type='html'>for those of you who know me, i can only imagine your reactions to the title of this post. some of you are probably curious based on the events of the past couple of weeks, while others of you are probably saying, "thank God," with sincerity. Whatever your reaction, please enjoy what you are about read... and feel free to hold me to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sick of compromising. I am sick of convincing myself to settle; I settle with God, friends, family, dreams, work, academics, etc. I expect too much in some areas, and way too little in others. For example, I never expect or ask God to be God; instead I wait until the storm has passed to ask Him to step in. As far as friends go, I'm sorry for not seeing your potential and not encouraging you to pursue it. The list goes on, but thats not the point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The deal is that I don't want to trap others in the boxes that I see them in. I don't want to give God a box either. And really, in all of this, I am sick of trying to force myself to fit into molds that do not fit me...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-6219709204600191330?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/6219709204600191330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=6219709204600191330' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/6219709204600191330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/6219709204600191330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/02/compromise.html' title='compromise'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-1032518892540806635</id><published>2008-02-25T14:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T14:33:53.071-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it's fair</title><content type='html'>whatever He decides is fair. whatever He decides is a blessing, even if it is in disguise. whatever He decides is far more than i deserve. whether in life or in death, it is more than i could legitimately ask for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;whatever He decides is fair.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-1032518892540806635?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/1032518892540806635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=1032518892540806635' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/1032518892540806635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/1032518892540806635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/02/its-fair.html' title='it&apos;s fair'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-2721188599570063592</id><published>2008-02-25T03:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T03:53:10.180-05:00</updated><title type='text'>motivation</title><content type='html'>something struck me during a conversation tonight. what is my motivation? i mean, it would be really easy to say something like "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Jesus&lt;/span&gt;," but in reality... why am i doing what i am?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and just in case you wanted to know, i think that is a really difficult question. kind of like the harshness of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;fluorescent&lt;/span&gt; lights compared to candles. you see a million more details, but it kills the imagined idea of what might be hiding in the shadows. i want to think that "good" hides in those unexamined shadows, but tonight was one of those times that i had to admit that i know better than to believe my own lies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it is really late right now, i know that. but my mind continues to race with the idea of how my life would look different if i evaluated my motives more often...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-2721188599570063592?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/2721188599570063592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=2721188599570063592' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/2721188599570063592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/2721188599570063592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/02/motivation.html' title='motivation'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-118098777053433800</id><published>2008-02-20T01:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-20T01:52:28.384-05:00</updated><title type='text'>faithful God like faithful sunrise</title><content type='html'>When I am just trying to keep it going.&lt;br /&gt;When I am giving up.&lt;br /&gt;When all I want is clarity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"faithful God like faithful sunrise"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is there, being consistent. He is centered and true, when I am still trying to wrap my head around everything. He is calm when I forget how to relax.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, He is listening to my heart race. Tonight, He is listening to my rantings and ravings. Tonight, He is  telling me that my friends' hearts are still in His hand. Tonight, He is asking if I trust Him like I trust the sun to show up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"faithful God like faithful sunrise"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-118098777053433800?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/118098777053433800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=118098777053433800' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/118098777053433800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/118098777053433800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/02/faithful-god-like-faithful-sunrise.html' title='faithful God like faithful sunrise'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-4245653710851336187</id><published>2008-02-19T00:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T00:08:05.202-05:00</updated><title type='text'>problem girl</title><content type='html'>i was listening to pandora (which is amazing if you've never tried it) tonight, and rob thomas started singing "problem girl." since its not the "top 40" type,  i'll include lyrics:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                          ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't let 'em get where they're going to&lt;br /&gt;You know they're only what they think of you&lt;br /&gt;You heard of this emotional trickery&lt;br /&gt;And you felt like you were learning the ropes&lt;br /&gt;But where you're going now you don't now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when the kids on the street say&lt;br /&gt;What's your problem girl&lt;br /&gt;And the weight of their smile's just&lt;br /&gt;Too much for you to bear&lt;br /&gt;When they all make you feel&lt;br /&gt;Like you're a problem girl&lt;br /&gt;Remember&lt;br /&gt;You're no problem at all&lt;br /&gt;You're no problem at all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pride like promises can let you down&lt;br /&gt;You thought that you'd be feeling&lt;br /&gt;Better by now&lt;br /&gt;You worry all the things they could do to you&lt;br /&gt;You worry about the things they could say&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you're seeing things the wrong way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Try&lt;br /&gt;If you stand or you fall&lt;br /&gt;You're no problem at all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                   ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;something about the song just got me. probably since i tend to think that i am the issue. i just think it is reassuring to hear a guy say that the girl is not the problem. thus begins the wishes though. i mean there is always the hope that someday we will all learn to communicate well with each other. thus eliminating anyone from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;being&lt;/span&gt; the problem. but here i am wishing... or as john mayer would say, "waiting on the world to change."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-4245653710851336187?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/4245653710851336187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=4245653710851336187' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/4245653710851336187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/4245653710851336187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/02/problem-girl.html' title='problem girl'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-6216738843996515496</id><published>2008-02-18T20:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T20:11:05.592-05:00</updated><title type='text'>mocking God</title><content type='html'>It's like the title says. I have been mocking God over and over for so long. I always tell myself that it is not like that, but let's be honest. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Way one: beauty&lt;br /&gt;I already talked about the ways that I devalue Him based upon the lies that I perpetuate about beauty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Way two: control&lt;br /&gt;It's not the time or place to delve into the details. But this is the deal, I say, on a fairly consistent basis that I know better than God. Or I think that I can handle a situation on my own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, I am wrong. And I owe God a huge apology.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-6216738843996515496?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/6216738843996515496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=6216738843996515496' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/6216738843996515496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/6216738843996515496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/02/mocking-god.html' title='mocking God'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-867691368888577039</id><published>2008-02-17T12:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T12:52:10.008-05:00</updated><title type='text'>beauty</title><content type='html'>beauty is so much more than what we give it credit for. i was just struck by this thought while sitting at westwinds this morning. every time i look in the mirror, or look at someone else and think that what i see is anything less than beautiful, i am devaluing God. if we are all made in his image, then we are all beautiful. but how many times a day do i deny that? how many times do i critique my own looks, and walk away feeling worse? how many times have i told God that he is not the judge of beauty? that he has not created something well?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just a thought... but you never know, this paradigm shift could be the beginning of a big change.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-867691368888577039?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/867691368888577039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=867691368888577039' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/867691368888577039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/867691368888577039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/02/beauty.html' title='beauty'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-3128786411745246809</id><published>2008-02-16T01:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-16T01:31:58.073-05:00</updated><title type='text'>impressed</title><content type='html'>some people just blow me away. my vision is so limited; it is so easy to keep my friends in boxes. and yet, they come up with ideas that consistently prove that there is no room for cardboard in their lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i.e. tonight, a bunch of friends dressed up and went roller skating. what they all said to me in various conversations later: "it is such a ministry opportunity." what?! they all went to have fun, and in the midst of that, they spent all this time around a ton of middle-school age kids that just need some love. so now what are my friends talking about? thats right, about learning to skate better so they can hang out with these kids. talk about creative ministry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-3128786411745246809?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/3128786411745246809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=3128786411745246809' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/3128786411745246809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/3128786411745246809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/02/impressed.html' title='impressed'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-2269709788027286926</id><published>2008-02-15T00:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T00:49:50.854-05:00</updated><title type='text'>straight-up conviction</title><content type='html'>do you ever get the feeling that God is speaking to you, and the person that He is using has no clue?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that was tonight for me. for the past week, i decided that i would only listen to God when i felt like it. and i bet you can guess how well that went. so finally, i needed some straight up conviction, and God dished it out through a conversation that was not really related.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my priorities were just not in line. i wanted what i wanted when i wanted it. what crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and it's one more place of brokenness that i was not aware of previously. though its great to be growing, sometimes its just embarrassing to come face to face with whats really in my heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-2269709788027286926?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/2269709788027286926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=2269709788027286926' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/2269709788027286926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/2269709788027286926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/02/straight-up-conviction.html' title='straight-up conviction'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-4128947145027783663</id><published>2008-02-12T18:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-12T18:37:04.854-05:00</updated><title type='text'>technology</title><content type='html'>frustration sets in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i tell you that i am sick of technology as i sit typing on my laptop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it seems that everything i own that involves a computer on the inside is dying. camera, ipod, etc. you name it, its killing itself. which is great by the way, for a college student that really cannot afford to replace the items. yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so in the meantime, i am working on money making schemes. woot. woot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-4128947145027783663?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/4128947145027783663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=4128947145027783663' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/4128947145027783663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/4128947145027783663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/02/technology.html' title='technology'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-7622428330268254704</id><published>2008-02-11T21:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T21:13:43.201-05:00</updated><title type='text'>overthinking</title><content type='html'>so today in class, we were discussing the strengths perspective... which lead to talking about our weaknesses being our strengths taken to the extreme. Cool, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, I am such an overthinker. i cannot leave any facet of an issue undiscovered. While this is a weakness in the fact that I spend too much time deliberating over all possibilities, it is a strength in the fact that I care about the situation and that I am not rash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for someone like me, who tends to be overly harsh when dealing with myself, this is such a refreshing idea. its also pretty sweet to apply in the people that frustrate you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not to mention, its a pretty positive outlook...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-7622428330268254704?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/7622428330268254704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=7622428330268254704' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/7622428330268254704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/7622428330268254704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/02/overthinking.html' title='overthinking'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-1569202114388945869</id><published>2008-02-10T21:01:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-10T21:09:08.187-05:00</updated><title type='text'>too much time</title><content type='html'>i spend too much time thinking and not enough time living. I spend too much time "praying about it" and too little time taking action. I wait and wait for God to make a clear yes, instead of going till He gives a "no."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so how do you shift your paradigm to this going perspective? how do you just start making things happen? how do you get over the waiting thing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the one thing that going changes is that it definitely makes my prayers more effective. i can focus on the important things, rather than the wishy-washy, "what should I do?" instead of praying that circumstances work out, i can focus on praying for the people around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if my focus shifts to action, my center shifts away from self.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so here it is: it is time for me to stop  worrying about what happens, and just let it be. it is time for me to start focusing on the world outside. its time to pray like i mean it; its time to stop wasting the opportunity that i have to talk to the creator of the universe. life is about so much more than my situations and struggles. life is just more than all of the situations that compromise what i could be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-1569202114388945869?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/1569202114388945869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=1569202114388945869' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/1569202114388945869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/1569202114388945869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/02/too-much-time.html' title='too much time'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-5297265714653646760</id><published>2008-01-26T00:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-26T00:47:59.867-05:00</updated><title type='text'>perspective</title><content type='html'>how great is it to talk to someone with a different view on a situation. it is so affirming to have someone give their opinion, and realize that maybe you aren't so crazy after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my head is swimming with potentials.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;last night, i couldn't sleep because there were so many opportunities on my mind. i cannot help but think that this is an amazing time of life: the things that keep me up are not stressors, instead they are visions of a sweet future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;maybe this makes no sense, but maybe i just haven't reached the comprehensible state yet...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-5297265714653646760?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/5297265714653646760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=5297265714653646760' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/5297265714653646760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/5297265714653646760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/01/perspective.html' title='perspective'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-3801989385410066475</id><published>2008-01-24T01:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-24T01:45:54.409-05:00</updated><title type='text'>serving</title><content type='html'>I am convinced that it is the little things that make all of the difference in life. It is the people who help you with an unexciting task, who share their snacks, or their apartment, that make life great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is not about grand gestures, rather the everyday moments that change the whole situation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After spending time with these people, I wonder who I was without them. They are the ones that make me better simply because I want to imitate their giving. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ultimately, who are any of us without friends? Is there true life without them? I doubt it...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-3801989385410066475?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/3801989385410066475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=3801989385410066475' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/3801989385410066475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/3801989385410066475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/01/serving.html' title='serving'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-7962704347044523709</id><published>2008-01-23T02:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T02:42:51.781-05:00</updated><title type='text'>busy</title><content type='html'>I am supposed to have so much free time right now... and yet somehow my life seems less busy when I am actually taking classes. There is neevr enough time for all of the life that I want to live. How unfortunate!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I can just pull it all together, then I can go home for the weekend. What a relief!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-7962704347044523709?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/7962704347044523709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=7962704347044523709' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/7962704347044523709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/7962704347044523709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/01/busy.html' title='busy'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-5896770856106665032</id><published>2008-01-21T18:55:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T19:02:17.128-05:00</updated><title type='text'>relationships</title><content type='html'>There are so many things to be said, and so many things that have already been said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here is the extremely brief summarization of my current thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter how great the distance, or the time between communication, the people that I share relationships with can expect three things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one. that i love them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;two. that i am here for them, whenever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;three. that i will do whatever i can to meet any need that they share with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those three things are true of every relationship in my life. Some may balk at my use of the word love, so here goes the explanation. Regardless of depth, I love you because Christ loves you and I'm here to share that love. There are some people closer than others as things naturally progress, thus I may love on a personal level as well, but underneath it all is the basis of the love that I have been shown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is no great manifesto, simply a reaction to the various thoughts that I have heard about types of relationships and their dynamics.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-5896770856106665032?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/5896770856106665032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=5896770856106665032' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/5896770856106665032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/5896770856106665032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/01/relationships_21.html' title='relationships'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-1555640653068506800</id><published>2008-01-21T03:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T03:35:21.701-05:00</updated><title type='text'>dtr</title><content type='html'>i hate the dtr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is painful, awkward, and emotionally costly. It is also necessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The complexities of a person are amazing. The way we grew up, the people we call family, the environment in which we are comfortable, the facets of our personalities, these are the things that make and break relationships.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not about chemistry... or compatability... This is about how two people can seemingly have everything in line, and still miss it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miss it entirely. Two people that simply grew up in different areas, with opposite family relationships, who are most comfortable in varying environments with complementary, but separate personalities... This is how they do not get together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-1555640653068506800?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/1555640653068506800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=1555640653068506800' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/1555640653068506800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/1555640653068506800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/01/dtr.html' title='dtr'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4528638038644859861.post-4115668347041150295</id><published>2008-01-20T19:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-20T19:41:21.167-05:00</updated><title type='text'>starting</title><content type='html'>january is the perfect time to begin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;time to begin new habits, new relationships... new journeys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but for now, new blogs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this blog is to be filled with the rantings, ravings, and basic thoughts of a vagabond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lines from someone on the journey. someone discovering, growing, and changing through the experiences of travel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lines from a vagabond.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4528638038644859861-4115668347041150295?l=vagabondlines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/feeds/4115668347041150295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4528638038644859861&amp;postID=4115668347041150295' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/4115668347041150295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4528638038644859861/posts/default/4115668347041150295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://vagabondlines.blogspot.com/2008/01/starting.html' title='starting'/><author><name>the vagabond</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02087646526747529711</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='16' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_7Uq7WQlV3S8/SBO_cT4FGwI/AAAAAAAAABA/3-OfprR9CVM/S220/n178201494_30512966_405.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
