<?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-8545564968758095979</id><updated>2011-04-21T13:24:51.613-07:00</updated><category term='marry it.'/><category term='Diving Bell and the Butterfly'/><category term='depression medicine.'/><category term='What i need in a man.'/><category term='elton John'/><category term='Mango'/><category term='kill myself.'/><category term='thanksgiving'/><category term='what i donno.'/><category term='American Dad'/><category term='ahhhh'/><category term='bar times'/><category term='sobbing'/><category term='virgin Mary'/><category term='bitch face cunt dick holes'/><category term='library'/><category term='Humanaties'/><category term='heyooo'/><category term='daddy'/><category term='Mary Jane'/><category term='One Tree Hill'/><category term='Need to be said.'/><category term='Pills'/><category term='Tila'/><category term='murder'/><category term='Panera'/><category term='OH Hush'/><category term='boring days.'/><category term='live free die hard'/><category term='potatoes.'/><category term='Pay it forward'/><category term='hips and tits'/><category term='Snap out of it.'/><title type='text'>If this is reality...</title><subtitle type='html'>life and times of the most divine being .. miss deesha</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>56</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-3718698574667648078</id><published>2008-06-09T12:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T13:49:24.757-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marry it.'/><title type='text'>Its been a long time my dear friend</title><content type='html'>I know that no one reads this, but maybe one person does.. maybe one person checks up on me, and to you, my single fan, I toast this Enviga to you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to the man with the red flannel on today, I say "go kill yourself, you have nothing else to live for"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to the kids who work in the bookstore I say " I'm sorry that your life has come to this"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to wear everything that Carrie wore in SEX and The City. Its most amazing. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://s245.photobucket.com/albums/gg74/EMILIAN27/?action=view&amp;current=sarah_jessica_parker_kettingen_200x.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i245.photobucket.com/albums/gg74/EMILIAN27/sarah_jessica_parker_kettingen_200x.jpg" border="0" alt="CARRIE"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets talk about this for a minute. &lt;br /&gt;Sex , Sex, Sex and the City. &lt;br /&gt;I laughed and laughed&lt;br /&gt;I cried and cried&lt;br /&gt;my heart beated faster ( i almost had an heart attack)&lt;br /&gt;I was angry, i could have killed (Steve and Big) how dare he!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How dare he leave his beautiful bride, at the alter. God, like so i know that she didn't think of him and whatever.. but common its like he really didn't care. He didn't I would have been like " you want to marry me, well then get right, cause this wedding is going to be splendifourous, and you can't do nothing about it boo" Carrie should have snap on his ass. Well, she did .. i loved when she beat him with the flowers. That is so something i would have done, and i love her for that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want her eye makeup.. after this blog I'm going to look up how to do my make up like that , all sexified. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what else... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jennifer Hudson! She looks so pretty, i love her skin. I need to get on that coco butter Danny says, and i believe that shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miranda! ew she just stomps around. like ok, shes a lezzy you can tell, everyone has been able to tell for years. He neck is to long, she needs to get that shit fixed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charlotte was annoying. I hate when she does that nose scrunch thing, it too much. She over acts way to much. Maybe it to make Sarah Jessica Look better. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Samantha! my heart. I will, I promise be her. I'm going to L.A and fucking a younger man until my heart goes out i swear to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NKOTB are back ! thank god, I love you Danny Wood. You could never be more sexy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I was like&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Hey girl can I get your number&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember what you told me, too&lt;br /&gt;Don’t call after 10 but you know that I did&lt;br /&gt;Cause I couldn’t stop thinking bout you&lt;br /&gt;I think about you in the summertime&lt;br /&gt;And all the good times we had, baby&lt;br /&gt;It’s been a few years and I can’t deny&lt;br /&gt;The thought of you still makes me crazy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I think about you in the summertime&lt;br /&gt;I’m sittin here in the sun&lt;br /&gt;With you on my mind&lt;/i&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;  &lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://s295.photobucket.com/albums/mm133/umble885/?action=view&amp;current=nkotb2008.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i295.photobucket.com/albums/mm133/umble885/nkotb2008.jpg" border="0" alt="new kids on the block"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://www.flickr.com/photos/27482546@N05/&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-3718698574667648078?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/3718698574667648078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=3718698574667648078' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/3718698574667648078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/3718698574667648078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2008/06/its-been-long-time-my-dear-friend.html' title='Its been a long time my dear friend'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-8508248631369984258</id><published>2008-04-15T13:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T13:27:30.881-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='One Tree Hill'/><title type='text'>My letter to those bastardos</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;i&gt;"So, we were in the chapter where you take your girlfriend up to that empty bedroom at the party."&lt;/i&gt; - Lucas&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happens if they do not get together. That would be like if Joey does not get with Pacey or Dawson . Who it was escapes me at the moment. None the less, if they do not end up together I'm pretty sure my life will stop in its place. Time will freeze, up will be down , black will be white and wrong will be so right (but not in the good way). Why oh Why would they even think about doing this to me. How DARE THEY. I'm going to be like Jim and write a letter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;center&gt;Dear One Tree hill, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You BASTARDS!!! How dare you! How DARE YOU!!! Peyton and Lucas are meant for each other. They go hand in hand like Pb &amp; J. How could you do this to the world?  How could you do this to me ,Kayla, Katie and all the other random-sad girls-who thinks everyone leaves- and wishes a man like Lucas would come and save them? I want to commend you on bringing back Dan to the show, but if that means that Peyton will not get Lucas then you can stick Dan up your ass hole. Also, you should change the name of "One Tree Hill" to "Everyone leaves". That is all you do. You fuck Peyton up ever single episode, all she needs is Lucas to rescue her will love. Only he is able to do that, cause everyone LEAVES! Don't you understand? As well, do not give Brooke a baby and doooo not have Lucas end up with her. She does not need a baby she already has tons of money (she like the Lisa Turtle of the show)  she doesn't need any more success.  Good DAY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My regards,&lt;br /&gt;Adecia. &lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://i304.photobucket.com/albums/nn199/crazysemz/deal.jpg&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-8508248631369984258?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/8508248631369984258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=8508248631369984258' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/8508248631369984258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/8508248631369984258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2008/04/my-letter-to-those-bastardos.html' title='My letter to those bastardos'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-6521027181042544003</id><published>2008-04-07T22:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T22:40:09.521-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='One Tree Hill'/><title type='text'>Marry Me, Marry me.</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Tree Hill is just a place somewhere in the world. Maybe it's a lot like your world. Maybe it's nothing like it. But if you look closer, you might see someone like you."&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love this show. OMG!!! Payton's brother( not real brother) totally was obsessed with her! and tried to kill her all scream like !!! Loves it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please love me Chad Micheal Murray..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src=http://i149.photobucket.com/albums/s68/tommyt_011/chad_micheal_murray.jpg&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-6521027181042544003?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/6521027181042544003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=6521027181042544003' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6521027181042544003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6521027181042544003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2008/04/marry-me-marry-me.html' title='Marry Me, Marry me.'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-8710637638131256433</id><published>2008-04-07T22:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T22:35:18.689-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Diving Bell and the Butterfly'/><title type='text'>The Best Movie I have ever seen (actually no, but it was fucking amazing!( I think it was actually better than Old Contry , but dont tell Javier))</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The Diving Bell and the Butterfly&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jean-Do the French editor of Elle, a father of two and a man who takes in the luxuries of life, has a fatal stroke at 43.  Before his stroke, Jean-Do is a quick witted play boy who never fully lives his life.  He never lets himself fully love someone; he never spends quality time with his kids and never sits with his father long enough for him to finish his thoughts.  To many he looks like a man who has it all, but really Jean-Do has very little.  His life comes to a pivotal stop the day he had his stroke that leaves him trapped in a world that resembles a diving bell.  He is left in a condition where he is confined to a bed and can only communicate through blinks.  Viewers see the use of his imagination, memories and voices of the people in his new life right through the eyes of Jean-Do himself.  In the last years of his life he uses the flashes of memories, which come to him as quick as butterfly wings, to dictate a book about his life. This movie is a heartbreakingly-funny-inspirational tale that leaves the audience wanting to make the best of their life, before it is too late.  &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Sounds in The Diving Bell and the Butterfly put great emphasis on the struggle of Jean-Do which leaves who ever watches inspired.  Most of the movie is played out without music, memories being the only exception.  When the viewer is experiencing Jean-Do’s life as a stroke victim the audience is able to hear the thoughts that go on in his head.  There is no background music that steers away from his cries of loneliness and quick witted humor.  I was riveted by his humor the whole way through the movie, every time I wanted to cry it was followed up by a time I wanted to laugh out loud. I think that this was important part of the overall movie because it made his experience real.  Instead of feeling distant from Jean-Do, as if he was a person one could never relate to, the audience felt instantly attached, because his thoughts we exactly like the ones any person would have.   The sound let the viewer feel what it is like to be trapped in a diving bell.  The sounds let the audience hear the struggled Jean-Do had to go through to take back his life , and to write a book which left the viewer feeling inspired to take back thier own life by living it.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br /&gt; As like the sound, the way the movie was shot played a huge part in the experience of the film. As the movie starts the camera fades in and out as Jean-Do gains consciousness. For me, this was a powerful effect because it instantly placed viewer inside Jean-Do.  The whole movie the viewer looking through his eyes and they know this because of how the camera moved. It moved as his head would so the audiences were only seeing what he saw. The Diving Bell and The Butterfly camera was very effective in placing the viewer right in the mists of his struggle and courage that left the viewer wanting to live their life the same way. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The way the movie was shot was as powerful as the characters. There were three doctors in the movie that tried to help Jean-Do overcome his ailment. The head doctor never said anything sugar coated to Jean-Do.  He told him flat out in the start of the movie that his condition was rare, fatal and that he probably would not get through it. This character was important in the movie because it let the spectators know how awful his situation was. Without this character the movie would play never truly depicting of his situation. Another doctor that was there helped him move his mouth and thought everything he did was a miracle. This outlook on the situation gave the viewer hope that he would conquer his stroke. The last notable doctor established his new form of communication. She taught him how to communicate using his eyes, when he though he never would be able to converse again. She truly cared about Jean-Do which in turn made the viewer truly care about him. When she was working with him the viewer would watch for his blinks as she did. Although Jean-Do was unable to fully communicate his feelings what he did say was very powerful.  For example, when a lover called him telling him she could not see him in that condition but then asked if he wanted to see her.  He was not able to tell her all he wanted to tell her but he was able to say “Every single day”.  Those few words made could make a person’s heart break in half. Right after he said those words I wanted to jump into the movie and give him a kiss. She taught him with so much love that it inspired who ever watched  to do the same thing. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Watching The Diving Bell and the Butterfly made me want to live my life to the fullest. Jean-Do never thought he would have a stroke, so he never did the things he should have done. When he was living with the stroke he wanted to badly to do the things he never did. He was not able to be a dad to his children after he had the stroke but that was the time when he wanted to be their father the most. He was kicking himself for taking for granted the time he could have spent with them. I never want to look back on my life wishing I should have done things.  A stroke, a fatal accident, or any sort of life threatening experience can happen to anyone, so we should all make the most of the time we had. This is a movie everyone should see.  People today need to be inspired to live their lives instead of taking it for granted as he did. We should all learn from Jean-Do’s life trapped in a diving bell with butterfly memories and make the most of the time we have. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src=http://i29.photobucket.com/albums/c283/emmers35/diving-bell-and-the-butterfly-le-sc.jpg&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-8710637638131256433?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/8710637638131256433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=8710637638131256433' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/8710637638131256433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/8710637638131256433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2008/04/best-movie-i-have-ever-seen-actually-no.html' title='The Best Movie I have ever seen (actually no, but it was fucking amazing!( I think it was actually better than Old Contry , but dont tell Javier))'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-1904802042845219780</id><published>2008-04-03T14:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T14:54:29.888-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='American Dad'/><title type='text'>Comm'on</title><content type='html'>I should be doing homework. Even though i do not really have any. Gotta make it to that damn orchestra this weekend. Hopefully Mateo still wants to join in on the fun. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i def  need to remember that i can't take Ambien if i only have like 4 hours to sleep. Cause i did that , and omg. Like i was driving off the dayum road. Oh! and i missed my exit to veterans .. and found myself in Lexington. I do not think i have been there before. But i didn't stay to explore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck, i do not think i took my shit. Now that would explain a lot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh i love American dad. Even though its exactly like Family guy , only with out the asides. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And i like the dad better. Peter is annoying and gross. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and the sister is way cooler and so is the brother.. and they have a great Alien. You ja-macian me crazy.!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-1904802042845219780?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/1904802042845219780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=1904802042845219780' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/1904802042845219780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/1904802042845219780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2008/04/common.html' title='Comm&apos;on'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-6362144414917526606</id><published>2008-04-01T20:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T22:19:49.703-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Everyone falls in love sometime.Sometimes its wrong sometimes its right. For ever win someone must fail. But there comes a point when we exhale."&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This song just opens up my spirit. Holy God, Thank you Jesus. Exhale! Let it be , let it , let it go , move up and over everything in this world. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and Mateo are making this weird cinnamon buns and cinnamon shit .. i think we heart cinnamon tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man hes soo worn out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He needs a break from life. Poor Mateo. Loves to play the helpless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://i253.photobucket.com/albums/hh44/miss_adecia/cute-1.jpg&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-6362144414917526606?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/6362144414917526606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=6362144414917526606' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6362144414917526606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6362144414917526606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2008/04/everyone-falls-in-love-sometime.html' title=''/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-6096223200870411712</id><published>2008-03-31T12:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T13:59:34.035-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='potatoes.'/><title type='text'>I guess  I hear everything.</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;i&gt;"If I went through in the right direction , would I even care?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://i253.photobucket.com/albums/hh44/miss_adecia/Incubus.jpg&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gotta start the day off with a good quote. A little Incubus for you ass. You know. &lt;br /&gt;I started to relies that my best works of writing is that , that comes form my own life.  My first paper in English was alright, but I didn't add enough personality to it. Its the personality of the writing that is voice. My voice comes out when I write about things that are true to me. Its was hard to write about Scientology even though i love it , and researched every which way about it. I still wasn't able to pull it off the way i would have liked. I kept searching through my writing for the reason. Why doesn't it sound exactly they way i like it. People liked it, it sounds good to them . Usually, I think people are to incompetent to understand what I'm trying to say. My aunt was like " the essay you wrote about grandpa , was divine" I was like " Why would your opinion of my writing mean anything to me? You are not Vonnegut , You are not Chaucer" .. and don't ever compare yourself to them. Don't act like you opinion is the end all of opinions. That oh yes , now that you gave you 'intelligent' opinion of my paper , I can now die in peace. What the hell? People if you don't know anything about a subject , chances are no one cares. Shes like a fucking grave digger or something ,maybe a dietitian I think , it all the same thing really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src=http://i253.photobucket.com/albums/hh44/miss_adecia/into.jpg&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        Thats kinda what I've been thinking, since I saw "Into the Wild". Its a fucking slow ass movie , but the end , oh the end. You just need to watch it for the end. We all know he dies in the end but , wow , Sean Penn knows how to kill a person.  Anyways the movie was about this kid who had 24 thousand and burned it all, then got jobs shoveling stuff and such to make money for tools to make it in the Alaskan wilderness. which in it self is kinda horrible.  You burn money , that could be used to help other people , to then get a job , that someone more worth could have gotten? And in the end you die cause you eat a poisonous potatoes. Honestly? Honestly? You died from something that shitty. Also through you whole travels only one bad thing happened to you! But you die from not reading the book correctly and eating a bad potatoes! That is so annoying. This movie really glorified being homeless, because he didn't die of being homeless , he died from not reading a page correctly. He could have lived for years in that van in Alaska..but hes a dumbass. I feel like society wants me to feel bad for him. Btu I can't because he could still be around bettering his world. Before his left for the Alaskan wild he was going to go to Harvard Law. And despite all that .. He went to Alaska to be free for society and to free himself. Then he dies in Alaska because of his freedom  that he wanted which forced him to have no food which then pushed him to have to eat plants.. get poisoned. The thing is , that book said if he would get it treated he would be fine. But he couldn't! He was to weak , he didn't know his way back. Its his need to be free and live away from society that killed him in the end. It wasn't the potatoes. Oh no, not the potatoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://i253.photobucket.com/albums/hh44/miss_adecia/2110485378_97bee0070c.jpg&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back to my point about all jobs being the same. That is exactly how Alexander Supertramp saw it in the movie. It wasn't about what you do in life. It was about living your life. After all the things i have said that were bad about this movie , their is one thing that i completely believe in , and have believed for years. You have to live your life. You have to get a move on it. I am a pure example of a person who doesn't live it up.TODAY, I want to make everyday a little different. So that I can never say " I do the same thing everyday .. you know , the grind." I want to live in some way. Keep this blood flowing. To many people don't relies that they are just waiting to die. Even those who go out everyday and puke their livers up. You not living you life , your numbing your life. Just like those people who eat up numerous drugs so that don't have to feel pain. Well , feel pain. Pain at least lets you know that your not dead. Change you job , change you location , change your friends , change you book bag. I don't give a flying fuck.. change it all right now. their is no point in doing it all the same everyday. We only have so much time. 70 years , 40 years , who knows you might only have 6 days. When your dead you'll be kicking yourself all over, because you weren't the person you could have been . You were to afraid of pain , of happiness, of societies ideals , or people. You were to afraid to indulge into your self and figure out all of it. Figure out all it! Lets, stop living mundane lives. We have it in us to be everything we need to be. We just have to search for it , we just have to get there. &lt;br&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src=http://i253.photobucket.com/albums/hh44/miss_adecia/425keenerhirschwild101507.jpg&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-6096223200870411712?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/6096223200870411712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=6096223200870411712' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6096223200870411712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6096223200870411712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-guess-i-hear-everything.html' title='I guess  I hear everything.'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-2447046784959875085</id><published>2008-03-26T18:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T18:33:44.279-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='OH Hush'/><title type='text'>We both go together if one falls down</title><content type='html'>&lt;Center&gt;&lt;i&gt;"and i miss you , going back to the west coast.. I wish you would fit yourself in my suitcase"&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! Swartzman how I love you. I watched your new movie. OMG! You + Owen + Brody &lt;br /&gt;+ Portman + Anderson = Simply Genius! I should have been in that damn movie. It was that divine. Simply simply divine. Fierce. I want a family like that. I want to go on a train through out India. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! I love the Kills. This amazing lady at Borders told me all about them. Yes, I'm hip. And i'm not lying , like i usually do, these guys are most amazing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! I need a new job. Someone rain money on me. Someone rain good fortune on me, and Mateo. We need some of that sugar right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! I hate crocks. I am so passionate about loathing crocks. Dementia crocks i call them. Cause you must have dementia to wear them. I figure some old women ( having dementia) was playing in her garden, forgot what she was doing and though she had to go to the market or something. And she just went there in the crocks. then some old middle aged women saw her and thought it was a great idea. She the told her whole scrap booking class and Then they all made thier kids wear them.( i always see these poor toddlers who can't dress themselves in gross hot pink crocks). And then some complete dumbass decided to make those ugly pins you put in the holes. WTF. Like seriously i wish i could get a hold of all the crocks in the whole world and replace them with black Prada flats. Seriously how hard is it to dress yourself sanely in the morning? Are you seriously rushing out the house so fast you can't even wear real shoes? like common now. Please wake up 15 min earlier so that i don't have to see your nasty lime green Dementia crocks. did you know every time you wear crocks a gay man dies in LA?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH! and check out Oh! Hush. Now thats some music.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-2447046784959875085?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/2447046784959875085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=2447046784959875085' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/2447046784959875085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/2447046784959875085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2008/03/we-both-go-together-if-one-falls-down.html' title='We both go together if one falls down'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-4762138427370436418</id><published>2008-03-25T20:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T20:33:17.001-07:00</updated><title type='text'>spendifourous , simply divine.</title><content type='html'>So this last weekend was my uncle Don't wedding. It was really simple. It was really slow. I almost walked home from the interstate center. all my familla was in town. Wich was most amazing. I love my cousins to death. I really wish i lived closer to them. I wish i could be closer to them. I wish i knew them better. Maybe i can save some money and move my ass to their coast. That would be wonderful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had a breakdown. Everyone knew. it was wierd cause i don't remember like any of it. Maybe my brain like spasmed or something. all i know is that my doctor up that dose. Which is weird. Kinda made me placid today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to get a new job. Tommoro i am going like everywhere and putting an application in. I need to make some dough. I'm so over these old people, and their bitching. They are wasting my social security on absolutely nothing. Do you really need me to sort through your ice box. i think your completely capable of knowing whats moldy or not. common now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drinkin some tea. &lt;br /&gt;Gonna go to bed soon.&lt;br /&gt;Trying to have a good day.&lt;br /&gt;Omg i felt so much better after i wrote my paper.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-4762138427370436418?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/4762138427370436418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=4762138427370436418' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/4762138427370436418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/4762138427370436418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2008/03/spendifourous-simply-divine.html' title='spendifourous , simply divine.'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-2468615444541296231</id><published>2008-03-19T20:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T21:11:19.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The bullshit you call life</title><content type='html'>Ann had it right all along. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no one will understand that. &lt;br /&gt; and no its no the baby part I'm referring too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;back in high school Laura Knight and Ann always did this weird thing. That i never much of at the time. But now completely understood why. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kinda of feel like no one is helping me. &lt;br /&gt;Give me something to grab on too. &lt;br /&gt;something more than your raging bullshit. &lt;br /&gt;words wobbly wood drifts mean absolutely nothing to me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want help. Of the third degree. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;something to gain my composer. I'm hinting , that i getting ready for a break break down , but no one seems to want to knowledge it . So whatever. figure out some day.&lt;br /&gt;or I'll die. And Hitler will tell me the truths of the universe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watch so many people dead. &lt;br /&gt;They are dead because they doing live their life. Doing the same old same old bulshit day in and day out is not living. Standing off to the side lines is not living. Do something. You got it all. Live it , Experience everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Open your arms. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to find a bunch of people who just want to get away and start life somewhere worth it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-2468615444541296231?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/2468615444541296231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=2468615444541296231' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/2468615444541296231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/2468615444541296231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2008/03/bullshit-you-call-life.html' title='The bullshit you call life'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-8739360620649295944</id><published>2008-02-28T20:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T21:20:42.278-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mary Jane'/><title type='text'>All we are is Dust In The Wind</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;"&lt;i&gt;Lets roll another joint, lets head on down the road,to somewhere i gotta go , and you don't know how it feels , no you don't know how it , you don't know how it feels , to be me&lt;/i&gt;"&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just watch American Meth. Yowza.&lt;br /&gt;Its such a rural drug. These kids all over America are willing doing this to themselves. Holy shit. This is the first time i actually think the DARE officers might have been on to something. I'm so glad that during my high school days I was never faced with that. Lucky. We are all so lucky, lucky .. count your god damn blessings seriously we are fucking lucky. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src=http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f45/jennluvzbuttafliez/meth-ad-2.jpg&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;"&lt;i&gt;Last dance with Mary Jane&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more time to kill the pain&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel summer creepin in and im&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tired of this town again.&lt;/i&gt;" &lt;br&gt; &lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that i was a Tom Petty of sorts in my other life. &lt;br /&gt;That reminds me i should call Kate. I miss her. &lt;br /&gt;i need to get back into the cards.. it was so nice to see the future every now and again. &lt;br /&gt;Bad week. my head has hurt a lot. &lt;br /&gt;Been feeling besides myself a lot. &lt;br /&gt;Been sleeping to much. fuck. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-8739360620649295944?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/8739360620649295944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=8739360620649295944' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/8739360620649295944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/8739360620649295944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2008/02/all-we-are-is-dust-in-wind.html' title='All we are is Dust In The Wind'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-9083954410902033788</id><published>2008-02-20T20:50:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-20T21:00:39.950-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boring days.'/><title type='text'>What in tarnation..</title><content type='html'>So today . Been a wonderful day. Meditation really does wonders for ones personality. And so does hanging out with Matt for about 8 or more hours. That has been amazing. Cooked dinner, talked about browsers and making our own website. We donno what we are going to do yet though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would we have on there. Prob just random clips of us doing boring things. &lt;br /&gt;or exciting things. &lt;br /&gt;Whatever it may be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;boy on the side is on. Love it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kinda. Drew Barrymore's hair is fierce as hell. Loves it much. &lt;br /&gt;Had ice cream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even i hate this blog. I have nothing to say. I'm out of words. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dreading work. donno if I'll go to class tomorrow. donno if there is a point.. don't want to go to English either. God. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am doing my project on Rumpelstiltskin. Its hot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-9083954410902033788?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/9083954410902033788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=9083954410902033788' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/9083954410902033788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/9083954410902033788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2008/02/what-in-tarnation.html' title='What in tarnation..'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-8552736133649524316</id><published>2008-02-19T10:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T11:02:02.158-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Humanaties'/><title type='text'>He bit my lip</title><content type='html'>Ah Humanities , another fucking day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a good note , before we get in to this.. I have an inkling that I am doing really well in the class. Especially if I start to show up more. Most def.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sat next to this old, I think , Gay man. For legal purposes lets call him &lt;i&gt;Doris&lt;/i&gt;. &lt;i&gt;Doris&lt;/i&gt; sat next to me in class again. Don't get me wrong this man is fucking hilarious. He's funny because of two things. First the way he waves his hand and says random adjectives. For example the professor says "What do you see" he'll be all "Color. mountains. Rocks. Damn those rock look like they b bigger than me. You do not know how big the mountains could be you know..This shit is crazy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Professor says ( with her wavy-early-nighties-to long of hair , and gross grandma blazer(shes trying to pull of the androgynous look and failing miserably))"When they did start to sculpt men that would also exaggerate features (giggle)" &lt;i&gt;Doris&lt;/i&gt; comments " girl you know , ah ten inches" Then snickers and his hands fall into his head ( you know the way black people do ). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is something. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Doris&lt;/i&gt; was wearing a white RIBBED SWEATER, and KHAKIS . Seriously, fall into the stereo-type for once. Or at least &lt;u&gt;fall into the Gap after 1998&lt;/u&gt;. Dress well. EWE ribbed sweaters puke, Harold. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sitting in this random hallway and a man walks in , talking loudly on his phone " Do I have to claim that BONUS Ten thousand that I got" &lt;br /&gt;Who is he trying to impress? Hes a fucking jail keepers. I know this because i was eves dropping and heard this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a moment of silence for those effected in the NIU shooting. &lt;br /&gt;That is so scary. I have no idea what I would do. Def would be txt ing my mother sooo fast. &lt;br /&gt; Get me the fuck out of here women. Call god. Speed dial that shit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listening to AFI &lt;br /&gt;you can see at my Last.fm page if you wants..http://www.last.fm/user/Fashion_pistol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src=http://i253.photobucket.com/albums/hh44/miss_adecia/afi.jpg&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* oh by the by, another dumb bitch was TXTing with her sound on! WTF. I don't get it. Personally i have come to the conclusion that using sound on your phone in any situation where there are other people is rude. And annoying. No one cares about your ring tones***&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-8552736133649524316?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/8552736133649524316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=8552736133649524316' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/8552736133649524316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/8552736133649524316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2008/02/he-bit-my-lip.html' title='He bit my lip'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-5299058393406257939</id><published>2008-02-14T15:29:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T15:44:00.078-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New York has the Naked cowboy</title><content type='html'>Humanaties cracks me up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kids today are fucking stupid as hell. This girl. This girl. Stupid cunt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" I like really hate when she says &lt;i&gt;The Madonna&lt;/i&gt; because it always makes me think of the REAL Madonna. She should like say &lt;i&gt; the women with a baby&lt;/i&gt;."(the she made this weird face).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, your right Madonna the pop star is the REAL Madonna. Madonna Louise Ciccone Ritchie's parents were all like "I just thought of this name out of thin air, OMG!". Then after Madonna became a famous icon, we went back in history and said "OMg! We should like totally like Omg call Jesus's mother Madonna cause she is so much like the Pop icon. It would be so fierce." Fucking stupid girl. I hate you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sit in this row where like all these "cool" kids sit. There sit around and make fun of this kid named Kier. As if we are in high school or some shit. Don't they know that all this information that Kier has , they should have.  That they shouldn't sit around and make fun of this kid because they'll need him when they are sitting around pumping gas. Idiots. He is weird. Not shit. But, goddamn i wish i was as smart as him. So do they, at least they will a year from now. when they are sitting at Heartland still and hes off at real college.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* oh and Chris Crocker posted the best video today about being famous, supposedly he is* &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="373"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/cozNwHqLyZY&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0xcc2550&amp;color2=0xe87a9f&amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/cozNwHqLyZY&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0xcc2550&amp;color2=0xe87a9f&amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="373"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt; At the beginning he talks about how NY has the Naked Cowboy and L.A has the pink Robe boy. So is that saying that the Naked Cowboy is famous? He just compared himself to a guy who spends his days .. in his underwear at Time Square.. I didn't know that was fierce. Wonder what Christian would say about him. Now Christian is a fierce bitch. Who will win PR. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, thank god Sweet Pea got kicked off. &lt;br /&gt;I really do want Ramni to make it. I just want to see a collection of drapes. That would be fucking great. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before him I didn't know people could actually be passionate about draping.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-5299058393406257939?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/5299058393406257939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=5299058393406257939' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/5299058393406257939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/5299058393406257939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2008/02/new-york-has-naked-cowboy.html' title='New York has the Naked cowboy'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-6177955241712925957</id><published>2008-02-13T22:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-13T23:21:44.425-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='library'/><title type='text'>Crazy Bitch. Crazy.</title><content type='html'>Christian is soo fierce. Omg. &lt;br /&gt;Ah he won the challenge. He is so Avant - Gard. &lt;br /&gt;i love him. He deserves to win time ten. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So lets talk about library etiquette. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. No cell phone noise. First who writes TXT messages with the sound on? Whats the point of that? Even if your blind.. you could still do it with vibrate. Its not like the sound helps you write? And then who talks in the library.. there is no noise for a fucking reason . Stupid brunette bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. If there are tons of cubes open do not take the one right next to someone. Thats weird thats like when there are tons of parking spaces open and you park right next to another car. Why? That just makes me uncomfortable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.No computer noise. Earphones. i do not want to hear the stupid little sounds your computer makes as much as you do not want to hear mine. And by the by.. changing you computer noises to be like jungle themed or desert themed is fucking stupid. Your not Elvis, you don't get to have themes like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Okay, I understand times ten that no one is really looking at you when you go. But  that does not give you the RIGHT to wear plaids and stripes. No way in hell can you do that to me. How dare you! Your lucky no one cuts you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; so take that brunette girl ..I fucking hate you and you make me uncomfortable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I'm so glad Romni made it ! love you.. and your drapes ( just no more drapes. Show Nina Garcia that you can do more))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src=http://i127.photobucket.com/albums/p157/ridemyspiral/makeitwork3.jpg&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-6177955241712925957?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/6177955241712925957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=6177955241712925957' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6177955241712925957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6177955241712925957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2008/02/crazy-bitch-crazy.html' title='Crazy Bitch. Crazy.'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-4239820748623304440</id><published>2008-01-31T11:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T11:20:24.736-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='virgin Mary'/><title type='text'>My dicks not hard anymore..</title><content type='html'>In humanities today.. We were looking at pictures of Madonna and child. The small and stout , tea pot , esk teacher asked if anyone noticed anything about the picture. People were saying things like.. reds, thrown, baby Jesus ( yes, obviously I'm in an advanced class). Then this one girl was like "I think this is a religious picture". I was like "No shit. Its the Virgin Mary.. holding baby Jesus." Omg, then this kid was all like "that guy is looking at the baby like it did something wrong." I was like " Its the VIRGIN MARY..holding JESUS. Yes i think , baby Jesus did something wrong in the eyes of the VIRGIN MARY.WTF". The that same guy was like  "its a women?". I just kept thinking what the fuck does he think the Virgin Mary mean. Fucking dumb asses i swear. Oh, and then we looked at this picture called "the girl with the pearl earring". The same guy from above was like "shes wearing pearl earrings" all matter a factly. I was like where the fuck am i right now? Are you seriously stating that after One the teacher just told you what the painting was called and Two its fucking obvious. its a portrait, a women , yes wearing a damn pearl earring. Please now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and this is random. So i was walking into the library after class to pick this book up.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and 1. The corridor before the library that has seating and tables.. was just full of black kids. It was really weird. There were no crackers anywhere or Chinese kids. There are a lot of Chinese kids at school.. Maybe the black kids own that part of Heartland? It was also near the Child Development area.. it was sorta stereo typical. I just wanted to yell " Why the fuck do you play into everything so easily?". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two - the women who gave me my books had to crazy eyes, and had the audacity to be rude to me. I'd had half a mind to ask her what the fuck she was looking at and how did she do that with her eyes. Bitch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;three- please tell me why all these kids have full black on. And all the boys have huge asses are wearing girl pants. Its like this weird cross dressing thing. No one sees a problem with men wearing random women clothes.. but trannies are bad? If i were to make a movie I would have it co-star the TrannyArquette .. whats that bitches name?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4- Why does the "Campus Cafe" sell pork tenderloins? Oh, and better than that , why do people by them. I looked at them and they just sit in this hot bucket of grease. Puke all over everywhere right now. kill yourself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I heart The Wombats. &lt;br /&gt;"&lt;i&gt;I've met someone that makes me feel seasick&lt;br /&gt;Oh what a skill to have&lt;br /&gt;Oh what a skill to have&lt;br /&gt;So many skills that make her distinctive&lt;br /&gt;But they're not mine to have&lt;br /&gt;No they're not mine&lt;/i&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ewe .. these boys are talking about how they use to hate each other because they thought each other hated each other. wtf. stop being vaginae. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://i253.photobucket.com/albums/hh44/miss_adecia/mary.gif&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-4239820748623304440?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/4239820748623304440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=4239820748623304440' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/4239820748623304440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/4239820748623304440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-dicks-not-hard-anymore.html' title='My dicks not hard anymore..'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-6466646692408251937</id><published>2007-12-20T22:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T22:25:50.759-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sobbing'/><title type='text'>again.. same sob story</title><content type='html'>I thought that maybe this was my chance. &lt;br /&gt;Or. &lt;br /&gt;I thought this would be okay. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought no need to worry. Hes a nice , intelligent sweet guy. on the up and up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but he left. &lt;br /&gt;fucking just like everyone. goddamn. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one with out even a "lets be friends". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is it. what the fuck do i do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would love to know. Ducky lets be real. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart is in pain. &lt;br /&gt;I was feeling special. &lt;br /&gt;To good to be true. &lt;br /&gt;Now , don't we see why i guard my heart. &lt;br /&gt;This is exactly why .. i put up a facade. &lt;br /&gt;Can't hurt me when you don't know me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is exactly why.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-6466646692408251937?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/6466646692408251937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=6466646692408251937' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6466646692408251937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6466646692408251937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/12/again-same-sob-story.html' title='again.. same sob story'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-6200213194186829837</id><published>2007-12-09T19:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T00:05:39.945-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bitch face cunt dick holes'/><title type='text'>Suppose this is the time.</title><content type='html'>Sometimes i have no idea why we are friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;your so different. Def, not in a good way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To bad everyone knows it but you. How sad for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://i253.photobucket.com/albums/hh44/miss_adecia/MONEYSUCCESSFAMEGLAMOUR.gif&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-6200213194186829837?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/6200213194186829837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=6200213194186829837' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6200213194186829837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6200213194186829837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/12/suppose-this-is-time.html' title='Suppose this is the time.'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-6546901010628208249</id><published>2007-12-06T19:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T21:19:43.300-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heyooo'/><title type='text'>LOVE</title><content type='html'>I gave into MTV today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm DL some boys likes girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn, I'm a poser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they have been on MTV for the last week.. non fucking stop.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-6546901010628208249?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/6546901010628208249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=6546901010628208249' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6546901010628208249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6546901010628208249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/12/love.html' title='LOVE'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-8380763466674960362</id><published>2007-12-05T21:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-05T21:15:54.260-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life is finnally not going to suck so hard for us...</title><content type='html'>That was real cool kids..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did I bite my nails to the end.. ewe skin. fuck that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today my dog busted through the doors completely...&lt;br /&gt;She is mentally insane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she always go crazy then passes out for hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;with her perfect pink collar. What a dog. i heart her times a million. &lt;br /&gt;One day, One day .. we'll move together to Portland.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so random lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Secrets secrets.secrets..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://i236.photobucket.com/albums/ff137/Adeciahenkel/4bdvnf6.jpg&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-8380763466674960362?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/8380763466674960362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=8380763466674960362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/8380763466674960362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/8380763466674960362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/12/life-is-finnally-not-going-to-suck-so.html' title='Life is finnally not going to suck so hard for us...'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-2322844408037284907</id><published>2007-11-28T19:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T19:46:25.189-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mango'/><title type='text'>Boo</title><content type='html'>What have I been doing all day. well not much, I feel like i dont have a job or soemthing.. i really need to get back into the swing of going to work. &lt;br /&gt;Been working on homework? and what not all day.&lt;br /&gt;Burned some DVD's .. watched some Ugly Betty..not to bad of a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I am missing something.. wonder what. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eh i always feel like i am missing something.. maybe such is mango. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ducht &lt;-- good band.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v643/bunnyninja/snl101.jpg&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-2322844408037284907?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/2322844408037284907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=2322844408037284907' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/2322844408037284907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/2322844408037284907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/11/boo.html' title='Boo'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-6710794325142966748</id><published>2007-11-25T17:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T19:24:46.450-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='live free die hard'/><title type='text'>Just at this moment..</title><content type='html'>I have some new obsessions. &lt;br /&gt;I've made some new conclusions in my life. All will be discussed here in this blogg.. you are reading and such. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, Lets talk about Ugly Betty. &lt;br /&gt;America is the most amazing actress in the world. Well that not true. Shes is amazing, but not the most amazing. She was in Sisterhood of the traveling pants. I heart that movie. I love the whole cast of Ugly Betty. I love the colors and the clothes of Ugo Betty. They are to die for. It is all to die for. I would live for a life like that , for times like that. Why don't i live like that. I feel like i don't live. What can i do to be more than what i am at the moment. How can I grow up, before my ass is left on the side of the road. I suppose Ugo doesn't conflict all of this in me . It does spread me around all upside down. I love the gay guy Mark in the show. AAAmazing he reminds me of mateo x 1000. Actually almost everyone in the cast reminds me of Matthews. Maybe he isn't a snowflake like i thought. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://i236.photobucket.com/albums/ff137/Adeciahenkel/cast_betty_ugly.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second obsession today.&lt;br /&gt;Him.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://i236.photobucket.com/albums/ff137/Adeciahenkel/mr_pirate.jpg&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt; The future love of my life. Well, not really. Well, okay if i could figure out his contact information I would try my hardest.  Ahh amazing. Hes sooo everything. Did you know that he went on a trip around the world. WHAT!! ugh. What i would give to go around the world. &lt;br /&gt;I would give..&lt;br /&gt;my left arm&lt;br /&gt;my first child&lt;br /&gt;my organs.. all of them.&lt;br /&gt;my toes. &lt;br /&gt;my hair .. now thats a big thing.love it. love it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-6710794325142966748?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/6710794325142966748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=6710794325142966748' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6710794325142966748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6710794325142966748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/11/just-at-this-moment.html' title='Just at this moment..'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-1324439313497734537</id><published>2007-11-22T14:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T14:56:58.979-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thanksgiving'/><title type='text'>Bastardos</title><content type='html'>So thanksgiving. &lt;br /&gt;Ah, the day we tell the Indians " We don't and never did , give a fuck about Squanto or any of you mother fuckers."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How completely inconsiderate of us a nation to band together in one racist parade ever year.&lt;br /&gt;Every year on this day , we celebrate people family's being scalped, burned alive and disregarded. &lt;br /&gt;It weird that we are able to do this to the founding culture of our nation. This is something we could have never done to blacks or Hispanics.&lt;br /&gt;Jesse Jackson would be all over this shit , if it was going on. &lt;br /&gt;How are we as a nation so blind and brain washed. &lt;br /&gt;We are "giving thanks".&lt;br /&gt;To what ? our murderous ancestors?&lt;br /&gt;"Thank you for killing the injins so we are able to kill innocent birds and eat cranberry sauce from a can.. yes we have made the best of ur genocide..no this was nothing like the holocaust, cause it took us decades to get rid of them"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" And yes, every year we portray the Indians as stupid heathen folk"&lt;br /&gt;" And yes, of course we will destroy the land quickly ,that they took care of for so long.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toast to our ancestors.. those arrogant sons of bitches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://i173.photobucket.com/albums/w48/cgd61278/zuntitlednativeamericans.jpg&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-1324439313497734537?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/1324439313497734537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=1324439313497734537' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/1324439313497734537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/1324439313497734537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/11/bastardos.html' title='Bastardos'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-5110187589251846636</id><published>2007-11-19T12:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T12:53:53.621-08:00</updated><title type='text'>drive drive drive. buring of bones</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i236.photobucket.com/albums/ff137/Adeciahenkel/babybrick.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drove. I almost drove all the way , way far aways. I almost got lost. It was such an incredible feeling.&lt;br /&gt;Being far away from everything right , everything I know. Was the Best feeling. &lt;br /&gt;Crashing my car into the one in front of me seems like the same feeling easily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The medicine officially is not working. &lt;br /&gt;Or this weekend was officially not working.&lt;br /&gt;Thanksgiving makes me want to cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a dream that I had two children. Lester and Autum. Two girls. Gorgeous girls.Perfect feeling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regina Spektor is not helping this pessimistic feeling.&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if their is a pill that you can take if you uninhibitedly pessimistic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My moods are so up and down.&lt;br /&gt;i don't have the benefits.&lt;br /&gt;I have no time.&lt;br /&gt;Sylvia Plath disease runs through my blood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consequence of life. of sound. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My room is starting to reak of death.&lt;br /&gt;Not to long , before ill be gone.&lt;br /&gt;done done done done.&lt;br /&gt;At what point will you relies?&lt;br /&gt;When i call and you don't answer.That time it'll be to late.&lt;br /&gt;Possibly. You'll have those thoughts , i shoulda woulda coulda . I'm dead now. And all the things you should have said, will never be said , will be gone. All the times  i was everything you needed will be gone. All the memories. All the thoughts of , shes so sad, shes depressed, emo, pathetic, will be sunkin in with me .. 9 to ten feet. I'll request 14.&lt;br /&gt;Barry all of those dreams , thoughts , memories , coulda , schemes. They will be gone , with all my lost lovers, who don't care about me.&lt;br /&gt;you have the chance to deliver me. &lt;br /&gt;You can make it far from an abomination.&lt;br /&gt;not being able to move , the best feeling. Only feeling I'm wanting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the people run by , all the people run by. &lt;br /&gt;Call everyone and tell them its all their fault. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel this&lt;br /&gt;the ripping of your skin right off your bones, as you lay their awake.&lt;br /&gt;Lost hope&lt;br /&gt;Most Regret&lt;br /&gt;your legs intertwined with the one you love , as he stabs you in the back.&lt;br /&gt;punches in the face all day long. &lt;br /&gt;Someone pulling your insides out with pliers through your nose.&lt;br /&gt;all of you gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck you for not getting it. If i was a better person , i wouldn't pray every night that you all feel this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you deserve it.&lt;br /&gt;We are all worth it all.&lt;br /&gt;Prefer, your life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-5110187589251846636?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/5110187589251846636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=5110187589251846636' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/5110187589251846636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/5110187589251846636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/11/drive-drive-drive-buring-of-bones.html' title='drive drive drive. buring of bones'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-1000634224626917567</id><published>2007-11-18T17:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T18:04:16.017-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='What i need in a man.'/><title type='text'>Pourquoi</title><content type='html'>As I watch Troy and do my hair , I get very angry.&lt;br /&gt;I get angry at the sight of Brad Pitt. &lt;br /&gt;Ugh. &lt;br /&gt;I gorgeous man , but lacking much.&lt;br /&gt;Women swoon over the Brad Pitts, Damens , Aflects ,Cruises and Clooney's of the world. the hero's the men who risk everything for love. The man who says he will wait a million years to be with you. The man who cries.&lt;br /&gt;Fuck them, Fuck their idealistic view of America.&lt;br /&gt;Give me the Johnny Depps,Keifer Sutherland, Robert Downey Jrs, Penn's ,The Dillions , The Farrells and the Jared leto's of the world. Give me the villains. The men who show us realism and harsh vanity of society. Give me the dark and mysterious. The ones who will be chased and give you no emotion. The men who give their heart and everlasting breath for what is true.&lt;br /&gt;Give me three bottles of Whiskey , johnny Depp, Sean Penn and keifer ..and I'll have happiness that is never ending. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v172/triggerx/664_58139cbf38bb9377b0174de7f32c892.jpg&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-1000634224626917567?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/1000634224626917567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=1000634224626917567' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/1000634224626917567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/1000634224626917567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/11/pourquoi.html' title='Pourquoi'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-6521051942753055870</id><published>2007-11-14T21:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T21:46:52.701-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='what i donno.'/><title type='text'>Bitch Please.</title><content type='html'>I need I need to be back in the state of mind I was in before. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think i hate my therapist.I don't feel like she does any good. Shes too talky. She doesn't write things down. I feel like counselors should write things down. Or is writing things down something you learn in medical school.. so only psychiatrist do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck i have to see psychiatrist.&lt;br /&gt;wonder what will be said.&lt;br /&gt;Wonder what will happen.&lt;br /&gt;I just want to be better.&lt;br /&gt;I hate living in this hell.&lt;br /&gt;I hate smiling my way through it.Its so annoying. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't i just be Vogue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i need to work more hours. i need cash money. I have no idea for what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yah me and Britt and Amby are going to Madison. Girls weekend. That should be fabulous. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wanna feel what i did.&lt;br /&gt;High standards . All times.&lt;br /&gt;I'm worth it.&lt;br /&gt;I do not deserve it.&lt;br /&gt;No one DESERVES anything. I hate when people think they do. Why do you DESERVE it your not perfect your not flawless. Your worth it. Grace should give it to you. But by no means does anyone deserve anything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-6521051942753055870?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/6521051942753055870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=6521051942753055870' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6521051942753055870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6521051942753055870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/11/bitch-please.html' title='Bitch Please.'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-5911345419620280829</id><published>2007-11-12T11:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-12T11:47:07.079-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='what i donno.'/><title type='text'>ewe. he just said "what up"</title><content type='html'>I've been staring at this awkward couple for about ten minutes now. A random black guy with a orange (rusty) color leather jacket. i think he might be English. And then there is this random girl in GRAY sweat pants flirting with him. They have all this awkward touching , and awkward laughs and awkward smiles. Its painful to even watch. Seriously painful times a thousand. So English went well today. Got there late as always. Talk to this old forty year old women and the random Macdonald's worker who sits next to me. They complained for like 20 min about getting marked down one point. They were all like this could be the difference between me and an A. I'm like yah, possibly .. but if you had worked harder all semester you wouldn't have to worry about it. Blah anyways. i hope i just make it thought this semester. Go on to next semester and do better you know. I think this whole taking my pill at night things works really well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going to film today he better not call on me i haven't studied for like three weeks fuck fuck fuck. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is this white girl with a tiny tiny  head glasses, football shoulders and thunder thighs in front of me. what the hell. i don't get this world. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FYI. everyone sitter around me has the exact same computer as i do. but they are like ten times lamer than i . Ewe they are talking about myspace. Oh jesus the black kids name is yo yo. What the fuck.  gross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to get to some peacefulness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ewe the annoying black kid (yo yo) has a really bad ring tone and weird mannerisms. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holla Panera after class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck. check that. First i need to get mother Donnelly a present... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ideas?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://i220.photobucket.com/albums/dd120/Strelok12/Roflmao-2.gif&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-5911345419620280829?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/5911345419620280829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=5911345419620280829' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/5911345419620280829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/5911345419620280829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/11/ewe-he-just-said-what-up.html' title='ewe. he just said &quot;what up&quot;'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-4491737008555065863</id><published>2007-11-05T21:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T22:00:17.164-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kill myself.'/><title type='text'>Get it. Giiveit.</title><content type='html'>I don't really know how to put how i feel into words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like there is no way up again, i look at my life and feel like its never ending struggle. Now , that is depressing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like i work hard, and i get no where.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look around and everyone else is just flying by ..just using what falls in their laps .. and being completely happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nothing ever falls in my lap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it does, i in some way orchestrated it . &lt;br /&gt;I just want this to be over.&lt;br /&gt;I just want to try again, or even not ... i just would rather stop here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one is real.&lt;br /&gt;I trust nothing that comes out of anyones mouth.&lt;br /&gt;I trust no actions.&lt;br /&gt;I believe in nothing.&lt;br /&gt;i have hope in nothing.&lt;br /&gt;I'm skeptical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life was over 10 years ago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-4491737008555065863?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/4491737008555065863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=4491737008555065863' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/4491737008555065863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/4491737008555065863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/11/get-it-giiveit.html' title='Get it. Giiveit.'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-941128953372102646</id><published>2007-11-04T18:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T18:12:12.146-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bar times'/><title type='text'>I was a gay man this weekend.</title><content type='html'>This weekend, this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;Yowzers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am reminded of why i stopped drinking. I'm to giving when I'm drunk. Buying people drinks will stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm becoming my old self again. Good or Bad? i have no idea. I'm comfortable again at the bar. I've missed my old friends so much, I'll be back. Gotta save that money and keep going back . ah. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday i spent laying around while my brother flipped through the channels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No phone call.&lt;br /&gt;I did txt. &lt;br /&gt;done with that.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes i hate boys.&lt;br /&gt;in general. &lt;br /&gt;for every reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pop corn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ah. i can't get this picture out of my head. &lt;br /&gt;make it go away Jesus. &lt;br /&gt;oh wait don't.&lt;br /&gt;It was refreshing, laughing. &lt;br /&gt;I need to be nicer. &lt;br /&gt;blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or something. &lt;br /&gt;I under estimate people.&lt;br /&gt;Or I over estimate people.&lt;br /&gt;I should expect nothing, and go with the flow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways. stole my brothers vicodine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've been in a trance all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gotta pick up Mateo later.&lt;br /&gt;Missed my boo. eh, sorta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://i206.photobucket.com/albums/bb188/waikeong_4682/untitled7.jpg&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-941128953372102646?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/941128953372102646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=941128953372102646' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/941128953372102646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/941128953372102646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/11/i-was-gay-man-this-weekend.html' title='I was a gay man this weekend.'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-7965672907724210216</id><published>2007-11-01T20:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-01T21:05:40.487-07:00</updated><title type='text'>..poka dott</title><content type='html'>painting my nails and watching mermaids with mateo.&lt;br /&gt;love.&lt;br /&gt;Cher.&lt;br /&gt;sex.&lt;br /&gt;i want to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;Your a dramatic bastard.&lt;br /&gt;you will be hearing about this.&lt;br /&gt;ah.&lt;br /&gt;Shatter me. Earth.&lt;br /&gt;ugh. i just want to be better. prettier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://i169.photobucket.com/albums/u230/sick_love_1/92.jpg&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-7965672907724210216?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/7965672907724210216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=7965672907724210216' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/7965672907724210216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/7965672907724210216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/11/poka-dott.html' title='..poka dott'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-7939484378651694617</id><published>2007-11-01T09:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-01T09:25:41.173-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='elton John'/><title type='text'>The biggest kick I ever got</title><content type='html'>So, lately (as in this week) i have had &lt;i&gt; Daniel&lt;/i&gt; by Elton John running through my head. &lt;br /&gt;Specifically&lt;br /&gt;              &lt;center&gt;  "Daniel my brother you are older than me&lt;br /&gt;              Do you still feel the pain of the scars that won't heal&lt;br /&gt;                  Your eyes have died but you see more than I&lt;br /&gt;Daniel you're a star in the face of the sky"&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt; Your eyes have DIED but you SEE more than I.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Its almost like I can not comprehend that line. As much as Elton John is well known, he is not respected enough for his lyrical talent. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt; Your EYES have died but you SEE more than I &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stricken , I feel Stricken. I am not sure with what. I just feel like that is the most appropriate word for my current state of mind.&lt;br /&gt;I think it is because I watched &lt;i&gt; Running with Scissors&lt;/i&gt;. I always have some sort of awakening after that movie. &lt;br /&gt;Wait.&lt;br /&gt;I am in the process of discovering something very real about myself. &lt;br /&gt;I feel like I am working through the process now. My mind is working through the equation right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think there is something I need to get from Elton John. &lt;br /&gt;I was listening to &lt;i&gt; I want love&lt;/i&gt; I really identified. I love when that happens. When music says everything you can't put into words. I love it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do I need to get from &lt;i&gt;Daniel&lt;/i&gt; What the fuck is my subconscious saying?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://i126.photobucket.com/albums/p97/grkbabe1118/Elton%20John/elton17.jpg&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-7939484378651694617?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/7939484378651694617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=7939484378651694617' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/7939484378651694617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/7939484378651694617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/11/biggest-kick-i-ever-got.html' title='The biggest kick I ever got'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i126.photobucket.com/albums/p97/grkbabe1118/Elton%20John/th_elton17.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-5724342044366528818</id><published>2007-10-31T15:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T15:46:04.234-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hips and tits'/><title type='text'>How do i feel.. a bit below adverage...</title><content type='html'>go with the flow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kinda feel like its getting heavier than i want&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i feel like wait, this is exactly what i want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So whats going on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do i need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do i deserve. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fuck if i know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-5724342044366528818?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/5724342044366528818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=5724342044366528818' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/5724342044366528818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/5724342044366528818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/10/how-do-i-feel-bit-below-adverage.html' title='How do i feel.. a bit below adverage...'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-8892910637353284883</id><published>2007-10-30T19:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T19:31:59.824-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='What i need in a man.'/><title type='text'>Your VCR loves me.</title><content type='html'>Loong day. &lt;br /&gt;Ugh. I need decia time like whoa. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom had a banquet in her name to day. It was great to watch everyone love on my mom do much . &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My uncle was there with debber so that was delightful. I'm so glad she is going to be part of my Henkel family. What an honor for her. I will never give my name up , i doubt i'll hyphenate it either. lol. I just love my family dearly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so tried today. &lt;br /&gt;Crazy tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i love boys who can do crazy English Accents. You can add that to my "what i want in a  man"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah. Like. Such a good point.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-8892910637353284883?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/8892910637353284883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=8892910637353284883' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/8892910637353284883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/8892910637353284883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/10/your-vcr-loves-me.html' title='Your VCR loves me.'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-5742606207235880392</id><published>2007-10-29T14:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T14:17:53.723-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Panera'/><title type='text'>Black Magic Women eh?</title><content type='html'>I'm in Panera ( just to set the scene you know).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm listening to Elton John, Benny and the jets. &lt;br /&gt;It makes me think of this Asian girl in my Lit class who has this crazy long name that starts with a B i'm assuming. Anyways, she told the whole class to call her Benny. So now everytime i see her i want to run up her and go "B-B-B-B-Bennyyyyyy and the JETS!". I just want to see the shock in her little asian face. oh asians.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fell the down the stairs to day at Smartland. I was like " Whoa Mama!!!". I almost cried hard. I was on the phone with my mother at the time. So i fell , and the cell phone flys from my hand and falls to the ground. I'm laying on the floor , almost crying , and all i hear is my mothers voice on the phone going "hello , Hello, decia?, hello?" all i want to do is scream "Shut the FUCK Up!!". but i don't instead i just hang up the phone so i'm not rude to her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think i'm crazy. &lt;br /&gt;i had this Quiz in Math. I thought when i first saw it "omg , we didn't go over any of this shit, this teacher is a MEGA BITCH". then today when i saw it , i was like wtf  i know this shit. Suck Suck. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you know John McCain ( rep. running for press) Didn't go to college? WTF. That should def be mandatory in this day and age... don't you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://i170.photobucket.com/albums/u271/steelerfanatic_album/John-McCain.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bet my grandmother will vote for him. She woudn't tell me other day. Now that makes no sense...Crazy old Bat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-5742606207235880392?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/5742606207235880392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=5742606207235880392' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/5742606207235880392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/5742606207235880392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/10/black-magic-women-eh.html' title='Black Magic Women eh?'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-8375134857945677797</id><published>2007-10-28T21:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-28T21:20:18.043-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ahhhh'/><title type='text'>Oh god. Oh no.</title><content type='html'>okay.&lt;br /&gt;New boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much different than i'm use to.&lt;br /&gt;found him on OK.. and well it more than OK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I def def Dig the hell out of him.&lt;br /&gt;Don't want to say to much because, well we dont want to jinx this shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gonna try it again. Odds are against me but, fuck i'll try again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to lie. i'm a hell a lot more guarded now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess, we'll see. Nothing wrong with that. Learn Some lessons and move on I guess. &lt;br /&gt;Mending this heart, I'm okay. I'm happy with or with out it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love myself. Love , Love , Love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know i'm not going to find him again. There are more, each one gets a little better, So i'm thinking eventually I'll get it rght. Or fuck he'll get it right. &lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty in touch with my feelings, I know how I feel . I know what I want. I'm not one to settle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there, It is out . Off my damn shoulders.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-8375134857945677797?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/8375134857945677797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=8375134857945677797' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/8375134857945677797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/8375134857945677797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/10/oh-god-oh-no.html' title='Oh god. Oh no.'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-2343269497229737687</id><published>2007-10-28T09:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-28T09:28:50.519-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'd be blind.</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that I acted on a TV show with Kyan Douglas from Queer eye.&lt;br /&gt;What the fuck is with my mind lately? I kept thinking hes so underrated. Hes such an amazing actor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://i65.photobucket.com/albums/h202/relish31/kyan_douglas_99.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh . and i love Rufus. Danny Boyyyy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-2343269497229737687?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/2343269497229737687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=2343269497229737687' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/2343269497229737687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/2343269497229737687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/10/id-be-blind.html' title='I&apos;d be blind.'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-7674747657791142972</id><published>2007-10-27T19:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T19:50:36.877-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='murder'/><title type='text'>i'm not a murderer</title><content type='html'>Pills , Pills.&lt;br /&gt;They quiet the nerves.&lt;br /&gt;They let you whisper to your subconscious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you were more of a man&lt;br /&gt;you would know that,&lt;br /&gt;just because you say it &lt;br /&gt;does not make you true.&lt;br /&gt;No matter how many times you say it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five hours a day.&lt;br /&gt;Get out.&lt;br /&gt;Start dividing your record albums&lt;br /&gt;Its bullshit.&lt;br /&gt;You have no idea what i know.&lt;br /&gt;You have no idea what i mean.&lt;br /&gt;I'm an unapologetic bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i see. &lt;br /&gt;Do i care.&lt;br /&gt;Kill yourself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-7674747657791142972?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/7674747657791142972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=7674747657791142972' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/7674747657791142972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/7674747657791142972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/10/im-not-murderer.html' title='i&apos;m not a murderer'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-6521430097436848541</id><published>2007-10-27T13:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T13:56:24.463-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tila'/><title type='text'>A Shot at love.</title><content type='html'>I had this dream about punching Tila Tequila. &lt;br /&gt;But I love her show. How could this be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v80/Stratusphere/tila-tequila-naked.jpg&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-6521430097436848541?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/6521430097436848541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=6521430097436848541' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6521430097436848541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6521430097436848541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/10/shot-at-love.html' title='A Shot at love.'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-5752069965384692080</id><published>2007-10-26T11:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-28T21:24:22.474-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pay it forward'/><title type='text'>Pay it back</title><content type='html'>So this guy totally "paid it forward" to me to day at Panera. i was so confused about the plug ins b/c it felt like mine hook up was to big. So got all frustrated and  was thinking about burning Panera down. when this stallion of a man came up to me and advised me of the child proof ness of the plug ins. I love this stallion of a man who had an unusually large book bag. You know what they say about large book bags. Anywooo to keep in the style of Pay it forward i called Tony cause, he needed probably to talk about him self for a bit, and of course i'm always here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-5752069965384692080?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/5752069965384692080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=5752069965384692080' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/5752069965384692080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/5752069965384692080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/10/pay-it-back.html' title='Pay it back'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-9216493991137285940</id><published>2007-10-25T18:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T18:37:47.994-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hips and tits'/><title type='text'>! If i lived in this land or if i lived in that land !</title><content type='html'>I was WRONG. It MEANT something. Pleas FORGIVE me . and RELEASE me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;blah blah blah blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i feel good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Devendra is pulling those strings right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God i could barley move earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom picked me up again. What a good women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hope to do her justice one day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope to do a lot of people justice one day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh .. all of you will get yours. don't you worry your pretty little tushies about that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got my FILM paper done on time! HOLLA!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These hips are big hips&lt;br /&gt;they need space to&lt;br /&gt;move around in.&lt;br /&gt;they don't fit into little&lt;br /&gt;pretty places, these hips &lt;br /&gt;are free hips,&lt;br /&gt;they don't like to be held back.&lt;br /&gt;these hips have never been enslaved.&lt;br /&gt;they go where they want to go. &lt;br /&gt;they do what they want to do.&lt;br /&gt;these are mightly hips.&lt;br /&gt;these hips are magic hips.&lt;br /&gt;i have known them &lt;br /&gt;to put a spell on a man and&lt;br /&gt;spin him like a top!&lt;br /&gt;- homage to my hips - Lucille Clifton&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;whoa! love you long time hips.Chills. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm memorizing that one for class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://i173.photobucket.com/albums/w58/photolover_23/Damn-1.jpg&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-9216493991137285940?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/9216493991137285940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=9216493991137285940' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/9216493991137285940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/9216493991137285940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/10/if-i-lived-in-this-land-or-if-i-lived.html' title='! If i lived in this land or if i lived in that land !'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-1214933726235613152</id><published>2007-10-24T14:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T09:38:16.897-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't run from it...</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;I never love nobody fully&lt;br /&gt;Always one foot on the ground&lt;br /&gt;And by protecting by heart truly&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got lost&lt;br /&gt;In the sounds&lt;br /&gt;I hear in my mind&lt;br /&gt;All these voices&lt;br /&gt;I hear in my mind all these words&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;I hear in my mind&lt;br /&gt;All this music&lt;br /&gt;And it breaks my heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;It breaks my heart&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://i164.photobucket.com/albums/u7/matias09/rrrr.jpg&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to sleep. I want to stop. I want it all to be over.&lt;br /&gt;Its not pain. Its not that my life is so hard. It just this more than anxiety awful hateful feeling. I want over. I need to be happy. So truly i wish i was. Everyday. One day a week. When i call god I'm going to ask for happiness, In whatever form that would be. Its all to much. Give it away now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Down down Down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put a lot on men. &lt;br /&gt;Who told me that. &lt;br /&gt;Lots of people.&lt;br /&gt;Damn you Dallas.&lt;br /&gt;What am i looking for ?&lt;br /&gt;That I'm good enough, fuck i wish i would stop proving everything. &lt;br /&gt;i have no one to prove anything to . i bet I'm proving this all to myself. &lt;br /&gt;How redundant. &lt;br /&gt;Wounds.&lt;br /&gt;Wish they would close.&lt;br /&gt;I need to get over my childhood wounds. To even begin on my adult ones. &lt;br /&gt;Never ending.&lt;br /&gt;So whats the point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------&lt;br /&gt;I hate work. &lt;br /&gt;i almost didn't make it to class.&lt;br /&gt;i know this all makes her so upset. ahh i hate it. I hate hurting my mom.&lt;br /&gt;She said today that all of this is making her deteriorate. Shes trying to balance work , school and me not trying to kill myself.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v80/Stratusphere/CAMPicture062.jpg&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today i told her everything makes me want to shoot myself.&lt;br /&gt;Obviously that did not go over well. lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She went crazy. &lt;br /&gt;it slipped out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I meant it more figuratively than literally.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;uh... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One step at a time. &lt;br /&gt;#1.. catch up on all my work this weekend. (seriously)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-1214933726235613152?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/1214933726235613152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=1214933726235613152' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/1214933726235613152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/1214933726235613152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-cant-run-from-it.html' title='I can&apos;t run from it...'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-8451400878325811819</id><published>2007-10-23T09:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T10:17:48.472-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Need to be said.'/><title type='text'>13 Things i needed to say.</title><content type='html'>1. I begged. I pleaded. For you not to leave me. You said no matter what. You said unconditional before I did. Then you left. You’re just a plastic artificial shell of yourself. I cannot believe I let myself love you. I can believe I cared unconditionally for someone who is very conditional. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. You think you have it all worked out, that you know exactly what you’re talking about.  You are not what you think you are.  You have conditions for your love.   Someone has to be exactly up to your moral virtues standards to be with you. No you don’t deserve what I did. Yes you deserve better.  There will always be someone with something. You can’t break a person’s heart just because you get scared or what’s next. Or think it might happen again, what’s the point of guarding you heart so much? It’s not your fault what happened. I’m not casting any blame on you. But it’s sort of insulting that all that I am get pushed aside for one thing. Yes I broke some trust. But honestly, you love me and you’re not going to work to keep me? Honestly. Then you were wrong. You never loved me.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;3. You’re a cunt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. It must be nice to be satisfied. You live in this tight knit world of routine. Just cause he came next and treated you better than the last. You’re lucky he’s a good guy. You’re lucky, because you don’t deserve it.  Then again who does? Does anyone really deserve anything? And how do you measure what you deserve? No one is perfect. Right. Everyone has faults.  Everyone has fucked up. I guess it just means what are the bounds of your compassion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. K. I understand. I understand that I never really gave myself to you. I think I just had an epiphany.  I get it. I actually had one of those AHA! Moments like in the movies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. You both talk about yourselves too much. What do you know about me? Honestly fucking think. You know nothing. I told you. You understood. Yet, when I tell you things ,your to fucking close minded to get it. I hate that your 20. This is stupid. Why am I talking to you at all? Why do I know you? You’re annoying. You mannerisms, everything about you. You’re fucking laugh. Kill me, every time I hear it.  I just like the feeling of being liked... I’m awful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I wish someone was here to catch these boxes that keep falling.  They hurt. I just want to roll up in a ball and forget my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. To say you have to love yourself before you can love someone else is bullshit. Love can make you fly, love can make you better.  You just have to be open to it. Let it in. Love can make you fall, love can kill you.  Love is a disaster waiting to happen. Just wait, it always leaves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. There is absolutely nothing better than a song that says everything you mean. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. I wish I could get god’s number because I would call him tomorrow.  Ask him what the fuck is up? Why me? What the fuck have done that is so much worse than everyone else?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. People only treat you the way you allow them to treat you. Is that true? I think so. I allow everyone to leave. What would be differently if I didn’t allow it. How could I have stopped it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Your actually one of the most hilarious people I have met. You use your dramatic nature as some sort of satire. I love it.  I used to think it was the just the way you were but, I see through your intelligence you just a higher level of humor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://i171.photobucket.com/albums/u315/StiffRockwell/tears.jpg&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. I loved you first. I loved you more. I left you first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. If you loved me , why did you leave me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-8451400878325811819?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/8451400878325811819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=8451400878325811819' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/8451400878325811819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/8451400878325811819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/10/13-things-i-needed-to-say.html' title='13 Things i needed to say.'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-6453825143608114026</id><published>2007-10-22T19:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T19:23:57.059-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This is exactly how i feel ..</title><content type='html'>If thou must love me, let it be for nought&lt;br /&gt;Except for love's sake only. Do not say&lt;br /&gt;"I love her for her smile-her look-her way &lt;br /&gt;Of speaking gently-for a trick of thought&lt;br /&gt;That falls in well with mine, and certes brought&lt;br /&gt;A sense of pleasant ease oh such a day"-&lt;br /&gt;For these things in themselves, Beloved, may&lt;br /&gt;be changed, or change for thee-and love, so wrought,&lt;br /&gt;May be unwrought so. Neither love me for&lt;br /&gt;thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,-&lt;br /&gt;A creature might forget to weep, who bore&lt;br /&gt;Thy comfort long, and lost thy love thereby!&lt;br /&gt;But love me for love's sake, that evermore&lt;br /&gt;Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- If thou must love me by Elizabeth Barrett Browning&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-6453825143608114026?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/6453825143608114026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=6453825143608114026' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6453825143608114026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6453825143608114026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/10/this-is-exactly-how-i-feel.html' title='This is exactly how i feel ..'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-323005775214269750</id><published>2007-10-19T21:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-19T21:48:57.028-07:00</updated><title type='text'>hit a new boundr y</title><content type='html'>k. so i'm high right now.&lt;br /&gt;and i thought i would be hilarious to right a blog.. c ause i'm so fucking weak and writing this blog with weexd.. ahhh shit l&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and cause you 've lways ..&lt;br /&gt;my mind cant cat h up with me'&lt;br /&gt;'&lt;br /&gt;everything i like an hour when its onlyo a min. everyone i cray.. and like fierce..l shot dofff love; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the producers input.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-323005775214269750?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/323005775214269750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=323005775214269750' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/323005775214269750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/323005775214269750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/10/hit-new-boundr-y.html' title='hit a new boundr y'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-3180886567581707224</id><published>2007-10-19T16:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-19T16:17:00.271-07:00</updated><title type='text'>muah</title><content type='html'>Chi town put your lighters up .. holla at the balller... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://i167.photobucket.com/albums/u131/baseballforeva99/100_0490.jpg&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-3180886567581707224?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/3180886567581707224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=3180886567581707224' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/3180886567581707224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/3180886567581707224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/10/muah.html' title='muah'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-5440608832474626799</id><published>2007-10-18T09:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-18T09:39:15.951-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This loud ass girl next to me has really bad weave.</title><content type='html'>I feel really accomplished. i got my papers done , and i'm not failing out of school.. despite missing 2 continuous weeks of class. by the grace of god, that is the only way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should be doing homework. &lt;br /&gt;ACTUALLY i should be in Psych, but the bitch dropped me. I have issues and its the Psych teacher who can't understand. lol thats hilariously. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feeling very weird about a lot of things. &lt;br /&gt;Feel like I'm almost trying to hard with some people. Can convince anyone to reach out or even talk to you i guess. Can't go back and make different choices.. i guess you just have to prove yourself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i was thinking about love. &lt;br /&gt;I think i had it all wrong. &lt;br /&gt;Or maybe I'm just insane. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always felt that once i let myself finally love someone else completely, no matter the situation,. that in the end love would over come anything. That once i decided it was unconditional instead of conditional i thought i would be forever. And if I'm right..either I'm fucked or i donno.. &lt;br /&gt;I was just thinking about that because i woke up to Captain and Tanel today &lt;br /&gt;"Love, Love will keep us together, think of me babe whenever.. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing is like boy bands hypnotized it to be.&lt;br /&gt;i shouldn't blame others.&lt;br /&gt;Its me. &lt;br /&gt;Kind of feel unlovable.&lt;br /&gt;Or even possible just not enough. &lt;br /&gt;I'm great but , not great enough to fight for.&lt;br /&gt;I love you but, its conditional.&lt;br /&gt;I love you within in this box, and if something fucked happens.. i won't remember we are an anomaly.. I'll just move on.&lt;br /&gt;I love until...&lt;br /&gt;I will wait...&lt;br /&gt;This is just the way i am, but i expect you to change. &lt;br /&gt;If you were prettier , thinner , smarter, funnier, cuter ,sexier.. then maybe this oould have worked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like i hear those things a lot, when i all i want to hear is .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you not matter what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i want someone to mean it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-5440608832474626799?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/5440608832474626799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=5440608832474626799' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/5440608832474626799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/5440608832474626799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/10/this-loud-ass-girl-next-to-me-has.html' title='This loud ass girl next to me has really bad weave.'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-5184192894429151773</id><published>2007-10-17T09:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T09:48:19.190-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='daddy'/><title type='text'>Dallas you bastard</title><content type='html'>It is all my fathers fault how i am. therapy we had a "break through"!! exciting tres i know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i guess cause i have always felt like it was my fault i haven't had a relationship with my father.. because i felt like i am the one who said "no lets stop this madness" at eight. That i have always felt like i ruined one of the most important relationships of my lifetime. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sooo..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thus, i continuously set myself in relationship where i know i will receive pain at the end because of the things i do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;its like control. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want to be hurt because i feel like i deserve it for fucking me and my fathers relation ship up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goddayum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i always thought i'd be one of the lucky ones without daddy issues. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://i198.photobucket.com/albums/aa198/djdhaysjr/Therapy.jpg&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-5184192894429151773?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/5184192894429151773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=5184192894429151773' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/5184192894429151773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/5184192894429151773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/10/dallas-you-bastard.html' title='Dallas you bastard'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-3224691968008487036</id><published>2007-10-16T01:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T01:28:44.015-07:00</updated><title type='text'>kills and pills shots andcocks trust and pain hurt and you</title><content type='html'>we broke up and yes it is killing me softly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Killing me softly with his song, killing me softly with his song, telling&lt;br /&gt;my whole life with&lt;br /&gt;his words, killing me softly with his song. &lt;B&gt;I felt all flushed with fever,&lt;br /&gt;embarrassed by the crowd, I felt he found my letters and read each one out loud.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I prayed that he would finish, but he just kept right on strumming my pain&lt;br /&gt;with his fingers, singing my life with his words,&lt;br /&gt;Killing me softly with his song, killing me softly with his song, telling my&lt;br /&gt;know I'm good enough for that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and it was a mistake. that i would never make again in my life. I just want him to see what he saw, what he fell in love with. Stop your mind. and listen to you heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, I'm gonna get pro active and give a goo at keeping on &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God grant me the serenity&lt;br /&gt;to accept the things I cannot change;&lt;br /&gt;courage to change the things I can;&lt;br /&gt;and wisdom to know the difference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Living one day at a time;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoying one moment at a time;&lt;br /&gt;Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and matt con coked a great plan on getting back on track in school and i plan on sticking with it. i got plans. I got ideas. I will accomplish them. i will go to work. I will do my best , and not try to be THE best. Thats all i can do . Not gonna chew off more than i can handle. i can get back in the swing of it all. Cause you know just what? i am THAT! Awesome . Kinda like Aston Kutcher style.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knows tomorrow is new day.&lt;br /&gt;I will just focus one day at a time.&lt;br /&gt;And i will move on one day a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think ill pray forgiveness to night. love, happiness, bitterness. I'll be just pray to be what people deserve. honestly.honestly.thought i was great ,what every deserves. now. i guess i am not. def want to change that about. yes ill pray for some real love tonight, happiness, love.i will confess tonight. i will wake up tomorrow owith a brighter mindset. &lt;br /&gt;amen&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-3224691968008487036?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/3224691968008487036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=3224691968008487036' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/3224691968008487036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/3224691968008487036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/10/kills-and-pills-shots-andcocks-trust.html' title='kills and pills shots andcocks trust and pain hurt and you'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-151595957179142691</id><published>2007-10-15T13:34:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T13:35:38.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Please strangle the life out me</title><content type='html'>i hate myself. more than ever.&lt;br /&gt;never thought possible.&lt;br /&gt;alone.&lt;br /&gt;lonely again.&lt;br /&gt;what a feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;can't wait to make it stop.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-151595957179142691?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/151595957179142691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=151595957179142691' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/151595957179142691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/151595957179142691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/10/please-strangle-life-out-me.html' title='Please strangle the life out me'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-1046096930655558469</id><published>2007-10-11T00:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T00:09:42.332-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Payton me.</title><content type='html'>Dont leave. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just stay awhile longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ugh. So much progress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to sleep for a month. or two weeks. then wake back up and start living again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't it just be different. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how come he is inside my head. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he just left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bastard come back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not fair. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone leaves.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-1046096930655558469?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/1046096930655558469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=1046096930655558469' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/1046096930655558469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/1046096930655558469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/10/payton-me.html' title='Payton me.'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-8773406882147874020</id><published>2007-10-10T15:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-10T16:26:06.924-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pills'/><title type='text'>i'm no Heroine.</title><content type='html'>Because i just found out i do not have Word i cannot write my paper. I will not write my damn paper on Works. Pulease bitch. &lt;br /&gt;He leaves tomorrow. &lt;br /&gt;God that sucks. &lt;br /&gt;I really hope distance does make the heart grow fonder. &lt;br /&gt;You know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope we keep in touch. slightly at least. I hope I don't freak to much cause we can't be together all the time. I tend to do that codependent thing sometime. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had such a break down on Wed. God i wish my weeks didn't start until wed and ended on Friday. I would be set. &lt;br /&gt;After the weekend my brain usually takes about 3 days to get situated. Now if i could only manage my classes and schedule around that i would be set. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hate class. Not really. I just hate the way i am. I love school , i love learning, i just feel incapable sometimes you know. Prob not. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Doctor up'd my dosage. So thats good. Hope it works so i don't have to see a psychologist. Now that would really make me freak i think. I just want to know that i;m normal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pray that i get my shit together sooon. pray it out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My doctor is so personal. Its almost to much. I like the fact that she cares .. but its weird when someone cares so much yet , doesn't really know you. i guess.. she knows more than some. Isn't that weird. A women  i barley know , knows some of my darkest secrets . Thats so fucked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When i was at the doctors today she came in and asked how i felt. I said good . she said well prolly not that good. I was like well no shit. I'm depressed, so really i never feel good. And , when you ask that question , no one is really asking the question to really know. They just are being sociable. I just thought it was just a weird event. i donno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my stories suck. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i was literally laying in a ball on my bed earlier shaking. Vicadine. Damn that will be the end of me. You know though, sometimes i just like to not be me. I just like to escape. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i feel like a verizon commercial. &lt;br /&gt;That my "network" .. is my Food , School , Teachers ,Mother , Kev , Friends ,Bills and they are all following me all day long. Constantly. When i take Vicadine its like a wall is put between me and all the bullshit. Its such a nice feeling. To have all the bullshit set aside for four hours. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then you shake. That sucks. But its like i shake off my old skin and start to fall back in place.&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u195/_sambam/pills-1.jpg&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-8773406882147874020?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/8773406882147874020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=8773406882147874020' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/8773406882147874020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/8773406882147874020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/10/im-no-heroine.html' title='i&apos;m no Heroine.'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-4350850185592342583</id><published>2007-09-28T13:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-28T13:59:20.650-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When will be together again?</title><content type='html'>So hard to sit down and write something true and real.I suppose its because i live a lot of my life on the line between truth and lies. I flirt with that line on a daily basis. Almost to the extent of not knowing reality. Maybe I'm driving myself crazy instead of the world driving me crazy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could talk about the way the light is shinning into this room , gives it a slight insane asylum air. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or that i know all of the grannies are wondering what new fangled contraption I'm working on today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels so nice to getting payed as i write a blog and do laundry. This really is the land of free and the brave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heart america. Because everyones dreams really do come true here. Awesome awesome. &lt;br /&gt;I'm glad for a by myself weekend. Prolly going to rent some movies, do homework. Write my heart out on some papers for class.. then keep letting some boys fall in love with moi. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It can be a good life some days&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;better than the days when I'm walking through the depths of hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://i170.photobucket.com/albums/u244/mademoisellecarole/madonna-1.jpg&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-4350850185592342583?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/4350850185592342583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=4350850185592342583' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/4350850185592342583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/4350850185592342583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/09/when-will-be-together-again.html' title='When will be together again?'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-2807628107474742368</id><published>2007-09-27T18:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T18:31:44.250-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Snap out of it.'/><title type='text'>then i'll make mine a double.</title><content type='html'>Going to the Dunn Coffee Shoppe today. It is a great place , to bad it only has one kind of coffee. I put just a spot of hazelnut creamer and couple dashes of sugar. Well there you go! You got my secret to the perfect cup of Bloomington coffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, I feel good today. I went to class!!! Heyoo. I have three papers do this next week so that will be joyful. Oh so excited. That is the problem with school you show up and they give you work. It is like "Hey be glad i came" "I'm paying for your fucking rent , don't be a bitch." If you think about it , Professors are pretty much the help. You pay them big bucks to teach you so , you do not have to teach yourself. I think we should just regard them as if they are our maids or gardeners. I guess they are right when they say , rich kids are the only ones able to go to school. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm back on my Enviga. What is that you ask? That best no calorie , calorie burning energy drink. Because I need to be more hyper than I already am. When my mood/brain whatever, is going through W&amp;G ( thats what i call my episodes now, Will and Grace) I have absolutely no energy. Even though I take 4 energy/metabo pills everyday. When my mood is good I have so much energy that i stutter or have an accent. When I was in Psychology today talking to Lisa ( lazy eye or just crzy? not sure.) I was trying to ask for the notes and I stuttered through it five times, because I was talking so fast. Then at random times random words will come out with a English accent. i wonder if anyone notices. Probably . Figures. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't stop thinking about my X today. Just kinda of thinking of how it used to be or how it could have been. That sucks. I wish I could dial a number into his brain to see if he thinks of the same things. Actually I just want to know if he thinks of me ( cause I'm co-dependent like that).  I wish I could pull a John Malkovich and just get inside him to see what he does. Not in a stalker way of course. Just a normal i miss the man who I cared so desperately about. &lt;br /&gt;Snap out of it!! ( Cher voice) keeps echoing in my head. &lt;br /&gt;Oh i will Cher , oh i will. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am strong enough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;img src=http://i192.photobucket.com/albums/z18/kidgreen/Cher-Photograph-C12142223.jpg&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-2807628107474742368?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/2807628107474742368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=2807628107474742368' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/2807628107474742368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/2807628107474742368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/09/then-ill-make-mine-double.html' title='then i&apos;ll make mine a double.'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-7595505626093740226</id><published>2007-09-26T16:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T16:40:12.042-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='What i need in a man.'/><title type='text'>.. then i need a man.</title><content type='html'>What do i want in a man?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. He must look like Vincent Gallow. Dark hair , big smile , skinnyish almost lanky.&lt;br /&gt;2. Dress like Johnny Depp. I like the indie intellectual style. Very sex mmhhm. Or like that black kid who works at the library. White t-shirt , jeans and some vans.&lt;br /&gt;3. Glasses. Oh so sex. Love it. i like the of him not being able to see well. something sexy about a blind guy. I've always thought that. &lt;br /&gt;4.Money. bitch i need to be taken care of. I want to feel like i can do whatever i want .. he can deal with the bills .. and i can deal with the pills. &lt;br /&gt;5. Education - i like them smart. Smarter than me. i love having boyfriends you can call when you don't know the answer. And they are all like " Abrahan Lincoln was the 16th president ,dear"&lt;br /&gt;6. Adventurous. Not in the outdoor sense. In the sexual sense. i want to try like everything with him. no bounderies. I want a completely contemporary relationship. I suppose my definition of it is being able to do every sexual perversion. As long as hes a democrat this part won't be hard.&lt;br /&gt;7. He has to be friendly with the gas. I'm a hardcore Hag through and through. Way more haggy then Grace or Karen. i know all the gays . They just orb out of no where to me. i have many gays, but some are closer to my heart than other. Top gays -Mateo , Riky and adam. In that order. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be continued...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v80/Stratusphere/portrait_VincentGallo_1.jpg&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-7595505626093740226?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/7595505626093740226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=7595505626093740226' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/7595505626093740226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/7595505626093740226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/09/then-i-need-man.html' title='.. then i need a man.'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-4478017503323397972</id><published>2007-09-26T09:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T10:10:47.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Then tomorrow will come.</title><content type='html'>I went to therapy today. Talk about my anxiety. I guess i have a lot of it. Talking through it made it seem very clear. Yes i have anxiety about going to bars. i think that everyone is looking at me and thinking i shouldn't be there. Thats bad. I used to never really care what people think . now i care so much i can't do the one thing I've pretty much waited my entire life to do. FUCK. So I guess i just need to relies when i feel that way and trying to talk myself through it. I think this comes from me being so critical that i feel like everyone is just so critical about me. Maybe they aren't . Maybe when i walk into a bar , everyone doesn't look at me. Ewe that sounded really conceited. I am not that. I know that. She also say i need to find more friends than Matt who don't always have to drink. Ugh. I hate making new friends it so much work.  Reeling people in sucks. i feel like i have so much else to do. Why doesn't someone just come up to me and ask to be my friend. Then i would say yes.. and we can go to a movie on Friday.. Oh an I bet Matt forgot about seeing Eastern Promises on Monday. Betcha. Oh what else. I need to have some sort of accountability about not going to class. which i did AGAIN today. I'm feeling slightly better. So i really do think this is has a lot to do with my brain. If i wasn't so paralyzed i would always go to class. Now, I know that to be true. But i have tomorrow to do better. Its not even October so i can get my shit together without my academic life going down the shitter. Now see already I'm almost back to normal. A good nights sleep , doing some homework I'll be okay. I hate my "episodes". that is what my doctor called it. LOL. Made me think of my life like an episode of "Will and Grace". That i won't have to deal or change anything about myself till this time next week. When i went to the doctor last wed , i started out telling her about my depression. How it was paralyzing blah blah blah.. And she said something that still makes me chuckle. She said "Are you depressed now" .. it made me think she was patronizing me like i had an imaginary friend "Is he in the room now?" . i was like um no bitch. anyways.. ah. Its almost over. Tomorrow will be better. I'll be normal again for an episode.. Well i guess until next time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-4478017503323397972?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/4478017503323397972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=4478017503323397972' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/4478017503323397972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/4478017503323397972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/09/then-tomorrow-will-come.html' title='Then tomorrow will come.'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8545564968758095979.post-6895685491162814461</id><published>2007-09-25T23:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T23:43:09.286-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depression medicine.'/><title type='text'>Then go fuck yourself god.</title><content type='html'>ahem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how do you revive yourself when your drowing in your own filthy emotion?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never knew that you could actually be paralyzed with sadnes. Until it happened to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Logically to me it makes no sense. I have no idea why i do not feel like life i worth living somedays,and other days i just want to make the most of what i have. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Logically i do not understand why i can not pick myself up from my chair and go hang out with  my friends. I hate that i am not the same person i used to be. I hate that i feel fake. I hate that i feel guilty about the things that i feel i cannot change. I hate that i cannot change these things about me. I feel like i have no control . When did this happen when did i loose control of my life. Why didn't anyone help me or stop me. I wonder to myself many night why does no one care. when don't i have friends like i use to . why don't i have the life i'm supposed to have. what the fuck am to be doing. What the hell kind of life am i living. Will i go to heaven , even thoght i have been diagnosed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate how envious of everyones elses life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why the fuck does everyone have everything that i want. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't i turn back time like cher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why the fuck was she able. to .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe i sound like all those whinny bastards i hate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to be everything i want to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want all my hopes and dreams to come true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man i just want to be conviently loved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want someone to take care of . &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone to share everything with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had that. What the fuck happened. You know he says he can help me with anything .. yet i don't have the one thing that i think will do the most good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ewe i'm gross in my self deprication&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i promise next blogggggg will be better..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just laugh bitches , just laugh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8545564968758095979-6895685491162814461?l=realdeesha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/feeds/6895685491162814461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8545564968758095979&amp;postID=6895685491162814461' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6895685491162814461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8545564968758095979/posts/default/6895685491162814461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://realdeesha.blogspot.com/2007/09/then-go-fuck-yourself-god.html' title='Then go fuck yourself god.'/><author><name>Deesha Deesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018746529607804260</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZGLv7Bti88M/R7TOFvSbrMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QamPku5PtoM/S220/l_d2864962213b8deb62e76ec1a70bf56a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
