<?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-8178820</id><updated>2011-04-21T11:14:42.162-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Katies Journal</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktjournal.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8178820/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktjournal.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15208109510123197786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178820.post-110082293324466504</id><published>2004-11-18T18:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T16:08:53.243-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Where I Would Rather Be</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;If I had to choose three other places that I would rather be, it&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;would be with my boyfriend, in Florida, or at a party. I'm going&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;home tomorrow after all of my classes, to see my boyfriend for the&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;weekend, and I would love to be able to leave early and see him&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;tonight. We have been having problems and I think that it would be&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;really nice to see him early. I would want to be in Florida because&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;it is starting to get cold here in Minnesota. I love laying on the&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;beach, listening to a CD and soaking up the sun. I also enjoy&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;wearing summer clothes rather then the huge bulky winter sweaters.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;A party would also be fun right about now. I could socialize with&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;my friends, kick back and relax. Worry only about the cold walk&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;home. This is where I would rather be right now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8178820-110082293324466504?l=ktjournal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktjournal.blogspot.com/feeds/110082293324466504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8178820&amp;postID=110082293324466504' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8178820/posts/default/110082293324466504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8178820/posts/default/110082293324466504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktjournal.blogspot.com/2004/11/where-i-would-rather-be.html' title='Where I Would Rather Be'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15208109510123197786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178820.post-110021836058152245</id><published>2004-11-11T18:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-11T16:12:40.580-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Helper</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Recently, my boyfriends sisters fiance's mother passed away and I said that I would help them&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;go through her things, and clean out her house with them. Well little did I know that this task&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;would take the entire evening and result in a fight between family members. I went over there&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;and helped pack dishes into boxes, and went through papers, and carried furniture out to the&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;truck. This was a lot harder work then I thought it was going to be. I didn't know what was&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;important to keep, and I just wanted to throw it all away, but my boyfriends mom kept insisting&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;that someone somewhere could use whatever piece of trash I wanted to throw away. I think the&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;best parts were that I got to keep a lot of things like a down comforter and a make up kit. Also&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;when all the work was done it was satisfying to see an empty apartment. I suppose that in the&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;end the work was gratifying and worth it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8178820-110021836058152245?l=ktjournal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktjournal.blogspot.com/feeds/110021836058152245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8178820&amp;postID=110021836058152245' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8178820/posts/default/110021836058152245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8178820/posts/default/110021836058152245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktjournal.blogspot.com/2004/11/helper.html' title='Helper'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15208109510123197786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178820.post-109900510972897649</id><published>2004-10-28T18:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-28T16:11:49.730-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The future</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#33ffff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ten years from not I hope to be married, and have a 4 year old boy and a 2 year old girl. I want to work in a bank and live out in the country, in a huge house that we ( my husband and I) build ourselves. I really don't think that our technology will be that much more advanced than it is now. We might find cures for illnesses and maybe even have better cars, that burn less fuel....But I don't think that there will be flying cars and talking robot maids. Even if there are I don't want them, because want to live the life of a country wife. This is what I picture my life as in ten years.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8178820-109900510972897649?l=ktjournal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktjournal.blogspot.com/feeds/109900510972897649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8178820&amp;postID=109900510972897649' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8178820/posts/default/109900510972897649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8178820/posts/default/109900510972897649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktjournal.blogspot.com/2004/10/future.html' title='The future'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15208109510123197786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178820.post-109779528895586473</id><published>2004-10-14T16:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-14T16:08:08.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>End of the World</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;If the world were going to end I would want to be with my friends and family for the time remaining. I would spend half of the day with my family, my sister, aunt and uncle. After that I would drive over to my boyfriends house. I would call my best friend to come over, and there I would spend the rest of my life with my boyfriend and my best friend. They are two of the most important people in my life, along with my aunt uncle and sister. Dying with my most loyal friends by my side would be the best thing I could ask for in a situation like that.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8178820-109779528895586473?l=ktjournal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktjournal.blogspot.com/feeds/109779528895586473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8178820&amp;postID=109779528895586473' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8178820/posts/default/109779528895586473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8178820/posts/default/109779528895586473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktjournal.blogspot.com/2004/10/end-of-world.html' title='End of the World'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15208109510123197786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178820.post-109719050315869376</id><published>2004-10-07T18:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-07T16:08:23.160-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Under the Knife</title><content type='html'>If I could have one thing changed on my body through plastic surgery, I suppose that I would get my boobs done. I wouldn't get implants but I would get something to reshape them. It would make me feel more confident in the way that I look, and the way people see me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My second choice would be liposuction in my thighs, butt and tummy. These are all my problem areas. The only reason I wouldn't want to get liposuction is because once done you have to eat right and exercise regularly or else you can gain all the weight back again. I don't know if I'm that committed to a healthy diet. If I had it done it would be for the same reason, to make me feel better about myself and for people to have a better image of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8178820-109719050315869376?l=ktjournal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktjournal.blogspot.com/feeds/109719050315869376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8178820&amp;postID=109719050315869376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8178820/posts/default/109719050315869376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8178820/posts/default/109719050315869376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktjournal.blogspot.com/2004/10/under-knife.html' title='Under the Knife'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15208109510123197786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178820.post-109658601133645105</id><published>2004-09-30T16:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-30T16:13:31.336-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Incompetent</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ccccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Well at my last job, working at Chuck E Cheese, it seemed that there were many incompetent people occupying higher positions than I. If you had been working there for at least a year you were promoted to a star cast member, meaning that you got free food and had higher authority than the other cast members. Well I remember this one guy that had been working there for over 2 years, his name was Darren. Darren was a dumb guy. The managers would tell him what to do and he would either not understand and do the wrong thing or it would take him a really long time to complete the task. I always had to do his work for him, which got to be really annoying. Even the managers would bitch about how bad of an employee he was, and how he was always showing up for work late. It made me so mad to know that they knew how shitty he was but still hadn't promoted me to a higher position, or even fired Darren. This guy, by the way, is 21 and I have a feeling that he's going to be working as a cashier at Chuck E Cheese for the rest of his life...Never to be promoted again. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8178820-109658601133645105?l=ktjournal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktjournal.blogspot.com/feeds/109658601133645105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8178820&amp;postID=109658601133645105' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8178820/posts/default/109658601133645105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8178820/posts/default/109658601133645105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktjournal.blogspot.com/2004/09/incompetent.html' title='Incompetent'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15208109510123197786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178820.post-109598104039789056</id><published>2004-09-23T16:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-23T16:10:40.396-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Entry 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Hmm, the person I respect the most. Well, I have a lot of respect for my mom. She had been through a lot in her lifetime, and had overcome all obstacles. She had been through two divorces and the depression. She got breast cancer in my eighth grade year and battled that for over 2 years. She went through losing both her breasts, hair, and the sickness that comes along with chemo. Even through all of that she still managed to raise my younger sister and I to be the good people we are today. I respect and admire the courage she had to face each day with a smile and a positive attitude for our sake. I will have the utmost respect for her as long as I'm alive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8178820-109598104039789056?l=ktjournal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktjournal.blogspot.com/feeds/109598104039789056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8178820&amp;postID=109598104039789056' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8178820/posts/default/109598104039789056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8178820/posts/default/109598104039789056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktjournal.blogspot.com/2004/09/entry-3.html' title='Entry 3'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15208109510123197786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178820.post-109537669978666986</id><published>2004-09-16T16:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-16T16:18:19.786-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Entry 2</title><content type='html'>Well it wasn't until i was older that my mom started to become more of a friend to me.  I would tell her everything and she would tell me things as well.  Well, i don't know how we got on the subjuct but my mom told me that her and my dad had gotten pregnant before me but had terminated it.  I found out that I would have either had an older sibling or that i might not have even been born.  It was kinda surprising to find this out about my mom and dad.  It didn't really change how I thought about my mom, it just kinda made me see her as human.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another time, i guess i was dressing too "sexy" so my step mom told me that she had been raped on her way home from school.  She said that she was wearing a mini skirt and was dressed too "sexy" and thats why the guys raped her.  I felt bad for her, but the way she told me about it almost like it was a threat, really pissed me off.  I didn't really like her in the first place but this just added fuel to the fire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At my grandfathers funeral i found out that my best friend was my cousin.  Her grandma was at the funeral so i asked if she was a friend.  She said that her and my grandfather were cousins...so somewhere down the line that made us cousins.  It made me feel even closer to her.  Now we don't have to pretend to be related...we really are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When i met my current boyfriend, he was really rude the first time we met.  He was introduced to me and then asked me if i would move my car out of the way of his, because he wanted to leave.  I didn't want anything to do with him.  Well my friend kept pushing us to go out so we set up a date.  He actually surprised me, he was really sweet and really easy to get along with.  It helped me learn to not judge before i get to know a person.  You never know, they could just be having a bad day or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8178820-109537669978666986?l=ktjournal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktjournal.blogspot.com/feeds/109537669978666986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8178820&amp;postID=109537669978666986' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8178820/posts/default/109537669978666986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8178820/posts/default/109537669978666986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktjournal.blogspot.com/2004/09/entry-2.html' title='Entry 2'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15208109510123197786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8178820.post-109477195116966681</id><published>2004-09-09T16:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-09T16:19:11.170-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Number One</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;   Well I have had bad days at a few jobs. I guess the first that pops into mind was when I was working at Walgreens. A man came in asking for me to change his twenty. Well money started swapping and by the end of it all the experience had lasted 3 min. At the end of the night I went in the back like always and started to count out my drawer. I ended up being 50 dollars short. I was so upset with myself and scared that I would get in tons of trouble. The manager was really understanding and nothing happened.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Another time, when I was working at chuck e cheese I ended up getting in trouble for "throwing" prizes at the guests. Well what happened was that a woman and her 5 or 6 children came up to the prize counter to trade in their tickets. The woman must have been in a hurry because she was yelling at her children to hurry up. Well that's all fine and dandy but when she started yelling at me I became upset and instead of handing her the prize I slid it across the counter towards her and her children. This woman was so annoying that I almost wanted to kill her. Anytime I would have a bad day at work it was because a customer was being rude/pushy/ or greedy at the prize counter.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I also had to be chucke at my work. That was a really bad experience. It really hot in the costume! I would go in, walk around the floor only to get molested by young children, and then come out of the suit looking like I had just got done swimming in a pool. I looked like shit and felt like it by the end of that long and horrible day.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8178820-109477195116966681?l=ktjournal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ktjournal.blogspot.com/feeds/109477195116966681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8178820&amp;postID=109477195116966681' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8178820/posts/default/109477195116966681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8178820/posts/default/109477195116966681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ktjournal.blogspot.com/2004/09/number-one.html' title='Number One'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15208109510123197786</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
