<?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-3600944685209142189</id><updated>2011-10-09T23:12:39.002-04:00</updated><category term='william&apos;s'/><category term='Gonda&apos;s thoughts for you'/><category term='Macbeth&apos;s downfall by-Sir-William Gonda'/><category term='Outstanding event'/><title type='text'>OCS Sen10rs</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Ann</name><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>252</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-8994697931315048636</id><published>2010-06-10T01:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-10T01:04:41.904-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Muahaha...?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Heya! ^_^&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are we still allowed to post stuff on here? I think it'd be really cool to keep our class blog alive even though we've graduated. I know that a lot of people probably have already forgotten about this, but there are a few who would still post things periodically. Does anyone even check this any more? Hahaha. Oh well. Hasta luega!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;*~FUR~*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-8994697931315048636?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/8994697931315048636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/06/muahaha.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/8994697931315048636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/8994697931315048636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/06/muahaha.html' title='Muahaha...?'/><author><name>lizardoyame</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992871601959638230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhLHVqDcjr8/Sp7fx6ZdJYI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QvCgWziEvvY/S220/BJA+Jr.+Sr.+Dress+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-2665777586843629165</id><published>2010-05-03T11:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:14:38.552-04:00</updated><title type='text'>#62 Peanut Butter</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I'm a nut when it comes to peanut butter. I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch every day last year. I am not picky when it comes to peanut butter. I like creamy or crunchy; Peter Pan or Jiffy. It doesn't matter to me. I tried some imitation  peanut butter one time, but i will never be fooled again! If it is not real peanut butter, made from real peanuts, then I will not eat it. &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-2665777586843629165?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/2665777586843629165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/62-peanut-butter.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/2665777586843629165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/2665777586843629165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/62-peanut-butter.html' title='#62 Peanut Butter'/><author><name>Carl Horton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04868599319603173067</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-3600944685209142189.post-6745382508114221980</id><published>2010-05-03T11:07:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:08:03.012-04:00</updated><title type='text'>“Hey! He looks like me!” (Mar. 23, 2010)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal"&gt;I have a traditional thing that me and Stephen do. We usually go to Micky D's every once in awhile for dollar menu lunch. One day Ben joined us. Half-way through lunch we noticed a little boy (2-3yrs old) scoping out the room. His eyes fell on us and just kinda...stared. We noticed the expression was one of inquiry, looking at us as if we were an abnormal thing. I tapped Stephen and said out loud, “Dude! He looks like me...” As soon as I said that I tried to fix it. “...when I have no idea whats going on!” That didn't fix it. She gave me the most piercing stare ever. OUCH. Ben hid his face and Stephen looked at me. “Seriously man?!” was all that stephen said to me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal"&gt;Sigh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal"&gt;. Yea, the village idiot strikes again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-6745382508114221980?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/6745382508114221980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/hey-he-looks-like-me-mar-23-2010.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/6745382508114221980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/6745382508114221980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/hey-he-looks-like-me-mar-23-2010.html' title='“Hey! He looks like me!” (Mar. 23, 2010)'/><author><name>Joe-Shmo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__bZXRfTj0L0/Sqgvn-gXkrI/AAAAAAAAAHA/eyQHhyqz74Y/S220/guitar5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-302334116926178877</id><published>2010-05-03T11:07:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:07:28.281-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Imagine...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal"&gt;Imagine a field of golden grass. Paths wind through the terrain. Your on your bike, the wind in your face and the sounds of birds nearby. Grasshoppers hop away from you every inch of ground you cover. You pedal just to hear the whinny of your bike tires on the beaten down grass. The grass sways in the wind and the lonely apple tree at the top of a single hill shows a resting place for shade and fresh apples. Ah, the luxuries of the smells, sights, and sounds of Northland. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-302334116926178877?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/302334116926178877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/imagine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/302334116926178877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/302334116926178877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/imagine.html' title='Imagine...'/><author><name>Joe-Shmo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__bZXRfTj0L0/Sqgvn-gXkrI/AAAAAAAAAHA/eyQHhyqz74Y/S220/guitar5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-6389511330299081868</id><published>2010-05-03T11:06:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:06:59.294-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mirror Lake (Oct. 16, 2009)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;Mirror Lake or Reflection Lake sat in the middle of the Wisconsin woods. Mirror Lake was called that for the way it would reflect the Northern Lights (Aurora Borealis) during the winter. Many people that had a snow mobile would go out to the edge of mirror lake on the cold, brisk nights and watch the Lights. The wind through the trees and the &lt;i&gt;woosh&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal"&gt; of the lights was all that could be heard. At times you could see, lit up with the reflections, the helmets of the other people around the lake. No talking, no engines running, just the puffs of steam from our breaths and glistening eyes all looking at God's marvelous and beautiful creation, all around Mirror Lake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-6389511330299081868?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/6389511330299081868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/mirror-lake-oct-16-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/6389511330299081868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/6389511330299081868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/mirror-lake-oct-16-2009.html' title='Mirror Lake (Oct. 16, 2009)'/><author><name>Joe-Shmo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__bZXRfTj0L0/Sqgvn-gXkrI/AAAAAAAAAHA/eyQHhyqz74Y/S220/guitar5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-4640753405272723366</id><published>2010-05-03T11:05:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:05:26.962-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Marriage/Family - YAY! ^_^</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #ea9999;"&gt;The thought of having a family terrifies me! Just thinking of having children...*shudder*, but then I remember that this is not new. Since Eve, women have survived growing and maintaining families, and god's power does not diminish. Honestly, I cannot wait until I have a man that I can listen to and take care of and serve with and goof off with. I cannot wait until I am able to baby and tease my husband when he's a whiny, sick lump on the couch, and i cannot wait until I have a best friend and hug-giver that never has to go home. :) There will be so many challenges, especially in these days, but I am ready and long to build a home and work hard for and beside a man who loves God so that He may receive the glory for a grounded family in a world where that is uncommon!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #ea9999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #ea9999;"&gt;~Jennifer Henson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-4640753405272723366?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/4640753405272723366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/marriagefamily-yay.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4640753405272723366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4640753405272723366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/marriagefamily-yay.html' title='Marriage/Family - YAY! ^_^'/><author><name>lizardoyame</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992871601959638230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhLHVqDcjr8/Sp7fx6ZdJYI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QvCgWziEvvY/S220/BJA+Jr.+Sr.+Dress+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-6642133516243111373</id><published>2010-05-03T11:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:11:46.718-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom's XXXXbestXXXX WORST Meal</title><content type='html'>I hope you don't mind that I chaned the title,  but I want to RANT!!!!  :( :( :( :(&lt;div&gt;Institution food has NO PLACE ON A FAMILY"S TABLE for the family dinner. :( :( :( :(  I love my mom's cooking; not someone in Illinois who packages Stouffer's with love in their heart for their paycheck. Don't misunderstand me... every now and then it's ok, but not twice a week. Some of those meals are good, but not as good as home cookin'. I think I am ok now... MAMA knows my feelings and tries to cook meals now or at least when I'm home for dinner. :) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-6642133516243111373?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/6642133516243111373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/moms-xxxxbestxxxx-worst-meal.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/6642133516243111373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/6642133516243111373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/moms-xxxxbestxxxx-worst-meal.html' title='Mom&apos;s XXXXbestXXXX WORST Meal'/><author><name>Cathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09666659226892028800</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QDvLf6kct8s/SqAXK7-nyvI/AAAAAAAAABE/YJsrtUfdZZs/S220/PICT4885.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-7835081910363412169</id><published>2010-05-03T11:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:08:50.013-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Some non-academic things I'd like to accomplish</title><content type='html'>There is much in this world to learn about and become capable of doing. There are just too many things in life that I would like to learn and be able to do for me to list in this entry, so I will list just some that I would like to able to do before college. The first is to ride a motorcycle. Since this would basically make me awesome for the rest of my life, and it saves on gas money. Next, I would like to learn to waterski. I was always too scared too learn as a child, and now I regret this, because it makes me look like a sissy. Finally, one last thing that I dream of accomplishing before August is to be able to speak French in Russian.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-7835081910363412169?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/7835081910363412169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/some-non-academic-things-id-like-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7835081910363412169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7835081910363412169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/some-non-academic-things-id-like-to.html' title='Some non-academic things I&apos;d like to accomplish'/><author><name>akyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16242276546847248681</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-3600944685209142189.post-5493520109311697594</id><published>2010-05-03T11:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:12:43.450-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Special Remembrance of Childhood</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It was about April of 1998 when the magic happened. I was laying in the bed with my dad watching t.v., and some basketball game was on. I had heard of the guy who played basketball and was on all the commercials, and I even had some posters of him in my room. (But i had taken it all or granted until this day.) This 6 foot 6 inch North Carolina native, sporting the number 23 intercepted a pass at the top of the key, sprinted down court, then he realized he was all alone. He started preparing himself for launch, he took off from about a foot inside the foul line, he glidded across the lane, his tongue was wagging, the Chicago crowd was on their feet. Then he threw down a thunderous yet graceful dunk that lit my soul on fire. That was the day Michael Jordan became my hero.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-5493520109311697594?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/5493520109311697594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/special-remembrance-of-childhood.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5493520109311697594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5493520109311697594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/special-remembrance-of-childhood.html' title='Special Remembrance of Childhood'/><author><name>H E 21</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03060318019260824082</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-86451515719077819</id><published>2010-05-03T10:58:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:12:19.478-04:00</updated><title type='text'>53. Getting in trouble</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#330033;"&gt; I was particularly &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#330033;"&gt;mischievous&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#330033;"&gt; child who at a moments notice would capriciously  follow after any fancy or whim that caught my attention. I recall one particular whim that caused I and my backside particular aggravation. I had decided that I deserved a palace and that my loyal companion Rhowyn was honorable enough to join in the fun. I immediately conjured up a plan for the prospective palace with a speed and creativity that came out of no where. After the foundation was in place (tables and cardboard) I was ready for the walls and decor to be set and only the best materials would do! I collected items laying around the house, designed ornate "curtains", and placed the "walls" where they needed to be. Our Palace of Hayes had been finished and just as Rhowyn and i snuggled up in our palace chambers to watch Arthur we heard a door, some tired footsteps, and a scolding voice. With the conclusion to he palace of Hayes I learned many wonderful things. 1. Rhowyn was not a prince but an OUTSIDE dog. 2. Nanas heirloom tablecloths were NOT palace walls. 3. Unmentionables are NOT curtains. 4. My mothers gold jewelry was NOT decor and my favorite, 5. even after the tragic end of my  prince, palace, and punishment, i was still my mommas princess.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-86451515719077819?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/86451515719077819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/53-getting-in-trouble.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/86451515719077819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/86451515719077819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/53-getting-in-trouble.html' title='53. Getting in trouble'/><author><name>bekah</name><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-3600944685209142189.post-1592274384425815239</id><published>2010-05-03T10:58:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:07:16.543-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Dream</title><content type='html'>This might be an unrealistic dream of mine but I would love to visit everywhere and every place in the world! I love to have new adventures and see different things! China and Costa Rica were so awesome that I want to visit and go everywhere. I would want to meet the different people and live in their culture! If I had to choose one place to visit for the longest period of time it would be the continent of Africa. Touring and traveling the world is one of my dreams!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-1592274384425815239?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/1592274384425815239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-dream.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/1592274384425815239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/1592274384425815239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-dream.html' title='My Dream'/><author><name>Christina Coker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15165586241679895201</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-3600944685209142189.post-3156027827686652871</id><published>2010-05-03T10:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:03:44.702-04:00</updated><title type='text'>WHAT AMERICA MEANS TO ME</title><content type='html'>When I think of America, I think of freedom and hope. The word brings about a sense of pride. I think of all the people that have given their lives to keep us going. I think through our history and I'm just so glad to be born in a country that everyone covets to be born in. America has been a blessing to the world, in that we set a standard of kindness, fairness, and justice for the world. We have accomplished things that have brought prosperity to many other nations along with ourselves. I love America and am so proud to call it my homeland.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-3156027827686652871?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/3156027827686652871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-america-means-to-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3156027827686652871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3156027827686652871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-america-means-to-me.html' title='WHAT AMERICA MEANS TO ME'/><author><name>Samantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13759339261220094141</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-3600944685209142189.post-3943485925262689961</id><published>2010-05-03T10:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:11:58.288-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Remembered Event From High School   Jamie Yow</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Another special event that I remember from high school was one Wednesday afternoon at Amanda Barrow's house. Christina, Amanda, and I all had went there to just relax until church that night. We went to the dog pound where Amanda got dog poop all over her skirt from picking up the poor defected dog, made brownies (which was a hilarious experience in itself), slid Amanda down her stairs, accidentally let her big dog Dixie in the house ( we couldnt catch her!), and threw ice into the shower while Amanda was in it! Before church, we decided to go by El Patron to eat. At the restaurant, we received a free slushy drink that we were all afraid to drink for fear of what alcohol they might have added-- we were definitely already loopy ENOUGH! On the way back to church, somehow I ended up driving Amanda's car while Christina and Amanda both fought for the front passengers seat. Needless to say, Amanda ended up in the floorboard of the front seat with her face smashed next to the door where she stayed until we got to church while Christina sat comfortably on top of Manders!! HAHA....I have NEVER laughed so hard in my entire life! We might have been putting the whole city of Anderson in jeopardy,BUT it was entirely too much fun to stop! That is just one of our MANY "adventures" that I will NEVER forget!:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-3943485925262689961?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/3943485925262689961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/another-remembered-event-from-high.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3943485925262689961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3943485925262689961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/another-remembered-event-from-high.html' title='Another Remembered Event From High School   Jamie Yow'/><author><name>jamie yow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06920923106536263441</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-3600944685209142189.post-4134060799718818867</id><published>2010-05-03T10:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:00:50.533-04:00</updated><title type='text'>An Animal that Frightened Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;An animal that frightens me are zebras. Zebras are white and black horses that have mohawks! That mere description is terrifying. Nothing says "I'll end you" like a multi-colored horse with a mohawk. If me and zebra ever crossed paths, I would admit defeat and just lay down. I wish zebras would become extinct.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-4134060799718818867?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/4134060799718818867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/animal-that-frightened-me.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4134060799718818867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4134060799718818867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/animal-that-frightened-me.html' title='An Animal that Frightened Me'/><author><name>H E 21</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03060318019260824082</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-5467113833468396047</id><published>2010-05-03T10:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:57:41.865-04:00</updated><title type='text'>getting out early</title><content type='html'>Getting out early is awesome. It is exactly what I expected. It is ironic that now that I get out early is the year that i don't have much homework so I don't really need the time. And, yes, that last sentence was a run-on. I will graduate with twenty-seven credits. I took three online math courses. I hated all of them with a passion, but it let me drop a couple of hard classes because I didn't need the credits.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-5467113833468396047?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/5467113833468396047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/getting-out-early.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5467113833468396047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5467113833468396047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/getting-out-early.html' title='getting out early'/><author><name>kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12775762321995772932</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-3600944685209142189.post-2523472145789259610</id><published>2010-05-03T10:54:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:54:48.448-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Anything About Nature - God's Hugs</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #4c1130;"&gt;There are so many amazing qualities of God's creation. I enjoy the cool green grass on my feet, the chill of a breeze brushing my face, the kiss of sun as it shines onto my skin, the serenity and calm of winter snow, and the crisp smell of fall. My most favourite gift from God in nature, though, would have to be rain. I have always loved it, but when I was little, I remember talking to God about how I could never really hug Him or walk beside Him. A poem popped into my head then about a woman asking God for a miracle, but missing all of the natural miracles around her such as caterpillars, sun, and water. It was raining, and I went outside to play in the wonderful miracle-drops. It reminded me of Noah and God's promise of love. How can a God so terrible (in power) in destroying the entire earth with this water be so gentle and loving to bless the plants (and this little girl) with the same rain/. Ever since that day, I've viewed rain as God's was of hugging me and whispering, "Here I am, Jennifer. Do you love me?"&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Jennifer Henson&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-2523472145789259610?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/2523472145789259610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/anything-about-nature-gods-hugs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/2523472145789259610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/2523472145789259610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/anything-about-nature-gods-hugs.html' title='Anything About Nature - God&apos;s Hugs'/><author><name>lizardoyame</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992871601959638230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhLHVqDcjr8/Sp7fx6ZdJYI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QvCgWziEvvY/S220/BJA+Jr.+Sr.+Dress+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-6614611052205693613</id><published>2010-05-03T10:52:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:58:51.999-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Kindergarten</title><content type='html'>I will never be a kindergarten teacher... unless I am teaching Japanese kids English. Mr. Berry forced us to volunteer in the kindergarten lunch. That was enough to dismantle ant dreams of having kids myself. I do believe none of them knew what a fork was. I could not even understand what any of them said. I just kind of smiled and nodded. And they randomly hugged me. I was lucky though. Amanda was with me and knew exactly how to handle them! She even understood their language! She can be the kindergarten teacher, but not me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-6614611052205693613?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/6614611052205693613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/kindergarten.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/6614611052205693613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/6614611052205693613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/kindergarten.html' title='Kindergarten'/><author><name>Brit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17784146564263043354</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emk9YPjGiLc/SqK0lIOzxcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/x8KquWE1PWk/S220/Brittany%27s+Pontiac+(3).jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-4327673893527212785</id><published>2010-05-03T10:52:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:58:06.643-04:00</updated><title type='text'>44. A Christmas Song - Katie Riggins</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;On many occasions I have wondered what it would've been like to be Mary. The song "Breath of Heaven" is sung from the perspective of Mary. Mary talks about wondering why she was chosen, and she says that she needs the Breath of Heaven to hold her together. Imaging having my Lord and Savior growing inside of my womb sends chills through my body. I have also wondered, if I lived in those times would I have lived a life that God would've chosen me to bear his Son? I want to live that life. The honor of caring for Jesus awes me, and I'm sure it awed Mary too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-4327673893527212785?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/4327673893527212785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/44-christmas-song-katie-riggins.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4327673893527212785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4327673893527212785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/44-christmas-song-katie-riggins.html' title='44. A Christmas Song - Katie Riggins'/><author><name>Katie R</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oS6VfFb3rHE/SqLSXN1DDOI/AAAAAAAAAAU/I9xPwrfQHfA/S220/4694_126879120672_630050672_3159141_320396_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-3891381730405431736</id><published>2010-05-03T10:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:56:02.670-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Something I've Learned Socially (3-22-10)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Something that I have learned socially is that not all girls have cooties. Growing up I held the mindset that all girls other than my mother had cooties and were bad. As such girls were to be hated and kept away at all costs. Then, suddenly something snapped in my summer between my 10th and 11th grade years. I suddenly came to realize that a select FEW girls had discovered a vaccine for cooties and kept it for their own use. But I decided that I would discover what this vaccine was and use it on some other girls I thought should have it too. I've decided that not ALL girls are bad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-3891381730405431736?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/3891381730405431736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/something-ive-learned-socially-3-22-10.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3891381730405431736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3891381730405431736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/something-ive-learned-socially-3-22-10.html' title='Something I&apos;ve Learned Socially (3-22-10)'/><author><name>Stephen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12928873509924132885</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-3600944685209142189.post-7011620614656476816</id><published>2010-05-03T10:51:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:05:02.327-04:00</updated><title type='text'>79: Only One Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Only one life left. The last chance you'll ever have to obtain victory. There is only one obstacle keeping you from getting the thing you have been working toward for so long. You confront this obstacle in attempt to defeat it, but the obstacle isn't going down without a fight. The epic battle begins. Much madness and struggle is taking place, the fight is glorious. But in the end you never defeat Bowser, and you never get to rescue Peach.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-7011620614656476816?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/7011620614656476816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/79-only-one-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7011620614656476816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7011620614656476816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/79-only-one-life.html' title='79: Only One Life'/><author><name>Vaughn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09108677768528774607</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-3600944685209142189.post-5833315058267864926</id><published>2010-05-03T10:51:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:04:45.568-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ashley Harbin: A Spiritual Blessing (11-16-09)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;This past summer God &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; taught me and showed me the power of His love and never-ending comfort. In order to teach me these, He had to mold me and take away things that I loved and held close to my heart. It is daunting that God's love is unconditional no matter what, but people who say they love us "unconditionally" seem to change their mind when things become uncomfortable for them, or when another "opportunity" comes along. God helped me face one of my worst emotional fears this past year, and by His strength, i have been able to reach the other side. At the time, I was very perplexed and questioned why? how? and many other questions people would ask God in that situation. After having time to see some things, God has shown me, and even continues to show me "why." Now, I am grateful for what happened because it prevented worse pain that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;could've&lt;/span&gt; came. I also realized that God has something much better in store for me, and my objective is to daily look for His will and wait on Him. God will never take me or allow me to go through something (that without His strength) that I cannot handle. Most amazingly, I will never have sorrow that is for "the bad," for it will always be for my good. (Romans 5:8)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-5833315058267864926?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/5833315058267864926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/ashley-harbin-spiritual-blessing-11-16.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5833315058267864926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5833315058267864926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/ashley-harbin-spiritual-blessing-11-16.html' title='Ashley Harbin: A Spiritual Blessing (11-16-09)'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08751746050801612232</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-3600944685209142189.post-5684055194085020406</id><published>2010-05-03T10:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:04:06.332-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='william&apos;s'/><title type='text'>#30 Pets</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I have had  a few pets throughout my life. I've had a kitten that i loved. I've raised a few fish that never grew much at all. Recently we got a small puppy  which has the cutest look ever. In all my experience the one thing I've learned is the one who feeds them is the one they love the most. The next thing is once you clean/bath the dog or pick up after him; its always expected of you; so don't. Lastly its not cheap not at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-5684055194085020406?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/5684055194085020406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/30-pets.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5684055194085020406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5684055194085020406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/30-pets.html' title='#30 Pets'/><author><name>William</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06112263796566333321</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-3600944685209142189.post-3048724405221397851</id><published>2010-05-03T10:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:03:04.262-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Hobby</title><content type='html'>My latest hobby is Karate. I started taking karate in January 2009. I started just to get some self-defense, and I have kept with it because I love it! I started out as a white belt, got to skip yellow, and I am now a red belt. I have one more belt before I am a black belt! My instructor, Marty Knight, fought on the same USA Karate Team as Chuck Norris. They fought in two different World Championships together. One in Russia, where Marty received the key to one of the cities and the other was in China. I have fought in several tournaments, and gotten first place in all but one. In two of the tournaments I fought in the Women's Black belt division and got first place in the whole division!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-3048724405221397851?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/3048724405221397851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/hobby.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3048724405221397851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3048724405221397851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/hobby.html' title='A Hobby'/><author><name>Katie Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06199140446575047538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YDQJJAPGkw4/SqAgdk8cJ4I/AAAAAAAAAAs/YNMJiUg4fr4/S220/treehugger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-7995391079683933785</id><published>2010-05-03T10:49:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:57:48.789-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting in trouble as a kid</title><content type='html'>Where do I start with this one? I always got in trouble as a kid! I would mostly get in trouble at daycare and get spankings at school and at home! I remember the teachers always giving me a white slip of paper to take home to m parents telling them what I had done to get into trouble. Every time I got that slip I threw it away which always meant a worse consequence! Let's just say i have had my share of lashes with a belt or hickory stick with thorns.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-7995391079683933785?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/7995391079683933785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/getting-in-trouble-as-kid.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7995391079683933785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7995391079683933785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/getting-in-trouble-as-kid.html' title='Getting in trouble as a kid'/><author><name>Christina Coker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15165586241679895201</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-3600944685209142189.post-3813675440315341737</id><published>2010-05-03T10:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:56:05.689-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Deer Hunting</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Deer hunting is one hobby I will never understand. What is appealing about waking up at 5am, when it is possibly raining and cold, to sit in a deer stand for several hours and probably see nothing. I can climb a tree, and hold a pellet gun and accomplish the same thing! Why would you hunt something that doesn't put up a fight? I can understand hunting bears or snakes or something, but Bambi? Deer hunting will never be my hobby, but why did my parents name me Hunter?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-3813675440315341737?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/3813675440315341737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/deer-hunting.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3813675440315341737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3813675440315341737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/deer-hunting.html' title='Deer Hunting'/><author><name>H E 21</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03060318019260824082</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-3600944685209142189.post-2956003091400184266</id><published>2010-05-03T10:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:04:42.637-04:00</updated><title type='text'>86 Remembered Event from Highschool</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I enjoy making things, so one of my favorite things was building rockets in eighth grade. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;I realize that eighth grade is not necessarily high school, but i'm going to pretend that it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;is. Most people like shooting the rockets, but i like the whole process. I remember carefully &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;selecting my rocket and then assembling it. Once my rocket was built, I took it home and painted&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;it silver. Shooting the rockets later that week was a BLAST!    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-2956003091400184266?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/2956003091400184266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/86-remembered-event-from-highschool.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/2956003091400184266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/2956003091400184266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/86-remembered-event-from-highschool.html' title='86 Remembered Event from Highschool'/><author><name>Carl Horton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04868599319603173067</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-3600944685209142189.post-1490722634407212656</id><published>2010-05-03T10:47:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:57:47.826-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Very Earliest Memory   Jamie Yow   1-8-10</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don't know if this is my VERY earliest memory,but it is fairly close. This memory is not a pleasant one, but a terrifying one! I remember having this horrible dream when I was going on four years old. I dreamed that this HUGE whirlwind witch lady was vacuuming up the whole world. To my dismay, she viciously sucked up my family and my house! I remember it being REALLY LOUD in that awful dream, and I was holding on for dear life!! As I was being sucked into the huge vacuum, I woke up frantically! I will NEVER forget the horror of that dream!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-1490722634407212656?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/1490722634407212656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-very-earliest-memory-jamie-yow-1-8.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/1490722634407212656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/1490722634407212656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-very-earliest-memory-jamie-yow-1-8.html' title='My Very Earliest Memory   Jamie Yow   1-8-10'/><author><name>jamie yow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06920923106536263441</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-3600944685209142189.post-4472852763554250431</id><published>2010-05-03T10:47:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:56:52.157-04:00</updated><title type='text'>P.E. CLASS</title><content type='html'>P.E. class was not my favorite class in the world. I have never gotten along very well with ball-related sports. In volleyball I usually missed if I tried to hit the ball, and the same story in softball. In basketball, someone would pass me the ball and the next thing I knew it was gone and I was staring at empty hands. I mean isn't it kinda rude to just jerk the ball right out of someone's hand? When we played soccer, I always had this fear that the ball was going to be kicked up in my face and break my nose if I got too close, which would of course happen to me. PE was just never my thing! I'm the bike-riding, hiking, horse-back riding type of girl. Just don't get me near a ball!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-4472852763554250431?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/4472852763554250431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/pe-class.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4472852763554250431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4472852763554250431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/pe-class.html' title='P.E. CLASS'/><author><name>Samantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13759339261220094141</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-3600944685209142189.post-3658992838209028110</id><published>2010-05-03T10:47:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:51:08.878-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Shopping (3-8-10)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Since when do guys shop? We don't shop, we hunt! A girl goes to the mall to walk, socialize, and find deals. Guys go to get in quickly, find what they need (not want), and get out while spending the least amount possible/ And if you will observe in the mall there are more stores that cater specially to women and larger women's sections than men's sections. Real men don't shop; we hunt a deals and drag it home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-3658992838209028110?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/3658992838209028110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/shopping-3-8-10.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3658992838209028110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3658992838209028110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/shopping-3-8-10.html' title='Shopping (3-8-10)'/><author><name>Stephen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12928873509924132885</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-3600944685209142189.post-5120319912971589057</id><published>2010-05-03T10:45:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:50:02.940-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Shopping</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CC00;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Shopping is fun, but it can be hard,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CC00;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The solution to that is your dad's credit card.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CC00;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;You can buy shirts, shoes, dresses and jewelry galore,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CC00;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;You can get them at nearly any good store.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CC00;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Go to the mall where they have many things,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CC00;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;They have games, they have scarves, and even diamond rings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CC00;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Shop today and even shop tomorrow,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#33CC00;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;but buy everything and you may have sorrow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-5120319912971589057?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/5120319912971589057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/shopping.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5120319912971589057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5120319912971589057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/shopping.html' title='Shopping'/><author><name>Kayla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08678353832795035551</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Sdhu8SzEp0Y/TNDWJGhjloI/AAAAAAAAABE/DF3QAFLPZus/S220/ADAMS,KAYLA4370.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-4850972442479502760</id><published>2010-05-03T10:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:45:33.418-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Job-Warrior</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: lime;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;My dream job is to be an oven warrior! No, I don't mean throwing ovens at people. I mean battling evil forces with food from my very own bakery! Imagine the world filled with frowning faces caused by empty stomachs, stressful days, loneliness, anger, and even stupidity. it would give me indescribable joy to cause stick-people (like Carl) to fill out a little! It is wonderful to see how much people can mellow out with a nice, warm slice of homemade bread with jam. Taking a giant plate of cookies to a person who is feeling down allows two thing: 1) A reason for the giver to stay and keep the recipient company(No one can eat a GIANT plate of cookies by themselves, now can they?). 2) Happiness Happiness for both parties, for each gets a treat, and both are blessed. Have you ever seen the healing powers of a pie when used in missions of peace? What better way to pacify an offended ally than with a specially-made weapon?! As for those among us who skip happily through the quagmire of life barefoot, what better way to make them feel smart and accomplished than to honour them with their very own personalized cake? My job as a warrior would not be easy, for weapons such as these take time, endurance, hard work, a little intelligence, not a small amount of ingenuity, and an endless supply of the secret weapon that gives the rest their potency -- LOVE!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;~Jennifer Henson&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-4850972442479502760?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/4850972442479502760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-job-warrior.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4850972442479502760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4850972442479502760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-job-warrior.html' title='My Job-Warrior'/><author><name>lizardoyame</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992871601959638230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhLHVqDcjr8/Sp7fx6ZdJYI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QvCgWziEvvY/S220/BJA+Jr.+Sr.+Dress+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-7153726739537832274</id><published>2010-05-03T10:44:00.018-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:01:39.515-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Chinese food</title><content type='html'>Many people say that they like Chinese food and that it tastes good, but they are wrong. I, unlike most people have tasted real Chinese food , and it is the devil. I absolutely hate Chinese food and everything that is associated with it. When I went to China the worst part of my experience wad the food or the lack thereof. I lost eighteen pounds in three weeks; I did not eat much over this time, and we walked everywhere. The food was miserable. All we ate was this bowl with nasty chicken parts inside of it and awful cafeteria food. Everyone said' "Well you could have just filled up on rice," but these people do not understand just how disgusting this food was, including the rice. I would have to say that the worst food that anyone ate was the spicy bread that Sam ordered form the bakery. Spicy bread, this sounds like an interesting and tasty treat, WRONG, that is exactly what we thought and that is exactly what the bakery wanted us to think. Sam thought that he had made an excellent purchase, but he was wrong;he had made the second worst mistake of his life(the worst being deciding to come to China). The combination of the rough texture with the strange blend of Asian spices with who knows what kind of disgusting chinaman baking it without washing his hands. If you were somehow able to muser the ability to swallow the large mass of undercooked mushy dough in your mouth, then you had only the massive amount of spices sitting in your stomach for the next many hours. This dough was especially created to expand in your stomach to fill you up faster, and it did just so. This putrid combination of what was called food sat in your digestive system for hours unless you were lucky enough to throw it up shortly after consuming it. Even today I shiver when I think about all of the miserable experiences I have with food and China.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-7153726739537832274?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/7153726739537832274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/chinese-food.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7153726739537832274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7153726739537832274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/chinese-food.html' title='Chinese food'/><author><name>akyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16242276546847248681</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-3600944685209142189.post-2445621481031351040</id><published>2010-05-03T10:44:00.017-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:51:49.581-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Marriage/Family? - Sam</title><content type='html'>I'm definitely not in any big hurry. I think I am going to be a bachelor for a while before I make that kind of commitment. I definitely want to get married down the road, but I'm not ready for the ol' ball-and-chain just yet. Also, kids will just weigh me down on the way to the top. Maybe I'll get married when I'm retired on a beach somewhere in Tahiti.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-2445621481031351040?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/2445621481031351040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/marriagefamily-sam.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/2445621481031351040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/2445621481031351040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/marriagefamily-sam.html' title='Marriage/Family? - Sam'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09694344820569868268</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-3600944685209142189.post-6851626446038803209</id><published>2010-05-03T10:44:00.016-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:51:40.196-04:00</updated><title type='text'>79. One Life</title><content type='html'>Its odd to think that I only have this one chance, on this one hunk of rock, with this one body, and one set of experiences that only i will ever know. I am an avid believer that the most important thing we can do with our lives is to invest in people around us (spiritually, mentally, romantically, or in simply a friendly capacity), and that our lives become pointless if we do not change the lives of others. I am thankful for the life God has given me and i know that the ordeals and opportunities I've experienced are God's way of teaching me and molding me into the person I'm supposed to be. Sometimes it's so easy t get caught up in the technicalities or pleasures of life and we miss out on the important things like being a friend, a witness, teacher, or simply a shoulder to cry on. I know i only have one life to live and with the drive and enthusiasm God has given me for life I plan on making the most of it to put a dent in the world as big as God will let me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-6851626446038803209?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/6851626446038803209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/79-one-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/6851626446038803209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/6851626446038803209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/79-one-life.html' title='79. One Life'/><author><name>bekah</name><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-3600944685209142189.post-1845791468160446040</id><published>2010-05-03T10:44:00.015-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:51:32.431-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ashley Harbin: Getting In Trouble As a Kid (12-10-09)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One of my earliest memories of getting in trouble was when I tried to make cereal. My parents were busy ding some outdoor work, and I wanted a snack. So instead of asking my parents, I decided to make my snack all by myself. I grabbed the box of Lucky Charms and milk from the fridge. I was only three, so I couldn't reach the bowls in the cabinet, but I did grab a spoon. I took my milk, cereal, and spoon into our living room, and sat behind our recliner in the corner, (To let you Know, we had brown carpet in our living room.) I poured the Lucky Charms and milk on the floor and began eating. Eventually, my parents came in, and I was in BIG trouble.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-1845791468160446040?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/1845791468160446040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/ashley-harbin-getting-in-trouble-as-kid.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/1845791468160446040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/1845791468160446040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/ashley-harbin-getting-in-trouble-as-kid.html' title='Ashley Harbin: Getting In Trouble As a Kid (12-10-09)'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08751746050801612232</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-3600944685209142189.post-8707601814659110435</id><published>2010-05-03T10:44:00.013-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:50:19.311-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Only One Life</title><content type='html'>"Live your life to the fullest!" Everyone should live by that quote. It is the truth! I don't want to be old one day and regret not doing something. I want to take every chance and experience everything! I don' t want to let any opportunity pass and I want to take advantage of being young. I want to be able to say that I pushed myself to the limit so that I can look back on my life one day and have no regrets!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-8707601814659110435?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/8707601814659110435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/only-one-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/8707601814659110435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/8707601814659110435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/only-one-life.html' title='Only One Life'/><author><name>Katie Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06199140446575047538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YDQJJAPGkw4/SqAgdk8cJ4I/AAAAAAAAAAs/YNMJiUg4fr4/S220/treehugger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-9006568255147646903</id><published>2010-05-03T10:44:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:47:31.245-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Springing Forth (#77)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Oh, I cannot wait for spring to come! I enjoy the more moderate weather, but I also enjoy the lengthy break I get from school. No tests to prove my achievement levels and no halfday on Good Friday. That just added 3 extra days to my spring paradise. Because of this wonderful vacation, I get to relax from the stressful sounds of seventh grade giggles or eighth grade schmoozers. And I experience this for a week and one half. Can life get much better? I just hope that my case of Senioritis worsens; because it won't be long until the grand day comes. How I appreciate spring vacation; for it reminds me of the greater joys lying in wait around the corner! &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-9006568255147646903?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/9006568255147646903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/springing-forth-77.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/9006568255147646903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/9006568255147646903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/springing-forth-77.html' title='Springing Forth (#77)'/><author><name>Andrew S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561731025273566793</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9vh4whQD7r4/S2HwgdZ-VhI/AAAAAAAAAA4/g0NOxKYLdmA/S220/memememememememe2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-3929888626275659761</id><published>2010-05-03T10:43:00.014-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:03:14.599-04:00</updated><title type='text'>38. A Person I Am Thankful For 11-17-09</title><content type='html'>There are two people I will talk about- one more than the other. Mrs. Prince and Mrs. Pegram. You may ask, "What do these two women have in common that would make me thankful for them?" I will tell you . They have more than just two things in common, but these two make me love them even more and dearer! One, they both live the Christian life fully- They LOVE their GOD. Second, they are both widows. Mrs. Pegram is a sweet and loving mother of nine. She and her husband, Dennis, reared their children in a Christlike fashion by being the needed examples to follow- they would never have said they were, but it's true. They both followed the Lord many places He led them to like Hampton Park. Dennis served as a financial man , deacon, and leader in the church. Ina taught music voice and piano through their home and schools, encouraging all to live for Christ, serve Him, and LOVE HIM. On July 29,2005, while at a family camp at Northland, Dennis died on a basketball court during a game with his family there also. Though this was terrible it had been prepared for throughout their lives. The sweetest and most precious thing had happened that morning. After a session and before free time Dennis and Ina took some time to be alone. They talked together and with  GOD thanking Him for everything and trusting Him for the future. Ina now uses this story to encourage others. SHe has used her life to PRAISE God. I cannot express how much I love these women because they have influenced my life greatly. Thank you Mrs. Prince for always being faithful first to your LORD, then to your students! Thank you both for continuing and striving with the joy of the Lord written all over your lives! I hope one day to be the example you two have been to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-3929888626275659761?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/3929888626275659761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/38-person-i-am-thankful-for-11-17-09.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3929888626275659761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3929888626275659761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/38-person-i-am-thankful-for-11-17-09.html' title='38. A Person I Am Thankful For 11-17-09'/><author><name>Cathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09666659226892028800</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QDvLf6kct8s/SqAXK7-nyvI/AAAAAAAAABE/YJsrtUfdZZs/S220/PICT4885.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-1390663045701156319</id><published>2010-05-03T10:43:00.013-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:51:17.822-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='william&apos;s'/><title type='text'>#24 The Woods</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Well i guess you could call the bamboo trees behind our house the woods. When going off with my older brother for for an adventure it was to the woods. We'd make crossbows and spears , and hunt invisible prey. My mom referred us to pigmies as we would come in for lunch half dressed. I miss the days when I would swing from bamboo tree to bamboo tree or at least when i could. I'll never forget the dark wooded life of my childhood.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-1390663045701156319?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/1390663045701156319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/24-woods.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/1390663045701156319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/1390663045701156319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/24-woods.html' title='#24 The Woods'/><author><name>William</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06112263796566333321</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-3600944685209142189.post-4469391885021624082</id><published>2010-05-03T10:43:00.012-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:49:53.162-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Special Elementary Teacher</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;My favorite teacher in my school career is Mrs. Teitloff. Yes, she was a Florida State fan, so finally I found a teacher to relate to my school needs during football season! That 4th grade year was one of the funnest years ever.We would sit and talk about Florida State after class, and we would wear our hats to school, it was perfect! Mrs. Teitloff was an o.k. teacher, I guess, all i remember is the Florida State love. Yes, I am forever greatful to you Mrs. Teitloff, you realized what really mattered.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-4469391885021624082?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/4469391885021624082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/special-elementary-teacher.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4469391885021624082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4469391885021624082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/special-elementary-teacher.html' title='Special Elementary Teacher'/><author><name>H E 21</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03060318019260824082</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-3600944685209142189.post-1470615448870421445</id><published>2010-05-03T10:43:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:47:22.078-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Playground (1-22-10)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;My only experiences with the OCS playground were in kindergarten. Those were my best memories of Oakwood. I remember my first kiss on the playground. I decided I kind of liked it so I kissed two or three girls before the teachers noticed. As punishment the girls and I had to stand against the fence for the rest of recess. At the time it was worth it. When my mom started homeschooling the playground got better. It became the woods and my backyard. My brother and I built forts out in those woods. I think that we high school students should be allowed recess and playground rights again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-1470615448870421445?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/1470615448870421445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/playground-1-22-10.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/1470615448870421445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/1470615448870421445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/playground-1-22-10.html' title='The Playground (1-22-10)'/><author><name>Stephen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12928873509924132885</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-3600944685209142189.post-3724152777309375185</id><published>2010-05-03T10:43:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:47:11.498-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Something I've learned Spiritually</title><content type='html'>God is good. God is in control. God is faithful even when we are not. God is able to do things beyond our imaginations. Control is something I have to give up every day. Just as darkness is the absence of light, sin is the result of the absence of God. Some hard times in life are just the result of living in a fallen world. God will never leave me. He is is faithful to direct my paths.&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;*Nicole Charron&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-3724152777309375185?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/3724152777309375185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/something-ive-learned-spiritually.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3724152777309375185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3724152777309375185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/something-ive-learned-spiritually.html' title='Something I&apos;ve learned Spiritually'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06308523083664293405</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-3600944685209142189.post-2198398187936807646</id><published>2010-05-03T10:42:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:50:42.825-04:00</updated><title type='text'>79. Only One Life - Katie Riggins</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Having only one life to give has been on my mind a lot this year. It is sometime overwhelming to think about. I get so caught up in achieving things of this world, like a career or even church, that  I easily lost sight of what really matters. You see in this life, between work and family, the things of God can easily be pushed to a thing to do when it's convenient . But God doesn't want our convenience; He wants our everything! Sometimes when I think of the possibility that I could die any day, I just start crying because I know that there is so much for God I could do, but don't. Recently, I was encouraged to spend the same amount of time I spend getting ready in the mornings with God. You see, why do we make our outward appearance so beautiful when we're ugly on the inside? It's like putting an expensive gold ring in a pig's nose! I want to glow with Jesus and when I leave this one life, leave a legacy that draws people to his great mercy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-2198398187936807646?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/2198398187936807646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/79-only-one-life-katie-riggins.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/2198398187936807646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/2198398187936807646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/79-only-one-life-katie-riggins.html' title='79. Only One Life - Katie Riggins'/><author><name>Katie R</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oS6VfFb3rHE/SqLSXN1DDOI/AAAAAAAAAAU/I9xPwrfQHfA/S220/4694_126879120672_630050672_3159141_320396_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-3639109235009976798</id><published>2010-05-03T10:42:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:45:59.930-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A food I don't like</title><content type='html'>I don't like green food. It tastes nasty. It smells nasty. It is the most disgusting thing to eat. I hate asparagus, broccoli, turnip greens. I know it is good for me. I would much rather eat other vegetables, like potatoes or corn. People I can not stand are vegetarians. Meat is awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-3639109235009976798?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/3639109235009976798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/food-i-dont-like.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3639109235009976798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3639109235009976798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/food-i-dont-like.html' title='A food I don&apos;t like'/><author><name>kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12775762321995772932</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-3600944685209142189.post-5389461470177009844</id><published>2010-05-03T10:41:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:48:53.536-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The gift of Jesus christ</title><content type='html'>In the world today, many people forget the true meaning of Christmas. the birth of Jesus Christ is the true meaning of Christmas. Many times we get caught up being too busy and really forget that Christmas is the birth of our Saviour. Jesus Christ is truly the best gift anyone could ever receive or give. Christmas time is a time to worship Him and sing praises to his name. As Christians, we should not forget the real Reason for the Season.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-5389461470177009844?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/5389461470177009844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/gift-of-jesus-christ.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5389461470177009844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5389461470177009844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/gift-of-jesus-christ.html' title='The gift of Jesus christ'/><author><name>Christina Coker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15165586241679895201</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-3600944685209142189.post-4150485976750815172</id><published>2010-05-03T10:41:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:47:44.477-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hardest Test I Ever Took      Jamie Yow   9-27-09</title><content type='html'>The hardest test I ever took was of course in Mrs. Prince's class!! The test was on cellular respirationand photosynthesis. It was such a nightmare that I actually stopped studying and accepted failure! I did not fail ,but I did not do good either. The test looked like a textbook. It was filled with listing after listing, essays on processes, and diagrams--not to mention the 100,000,000 questions!! Five students escaped with no injuries; three students had minor injuries; and sadly to say TWENTY-TWO students were left UNCONSCIOUS!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-4150485976750815172?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/4150485976750815172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/hardest-test-i-ever-took-jamie-yow-9-27.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4150485976750815172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4150485976750815172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/hardest-test-i-ever-took-jamie-yow-9-27.html' title='The Hardest Test I Ever Took      Jamie Yow   9-27-09'/><author><name>jamie yow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06920923106536263441</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-3600944685209142189.post-5866890591907360600</id><published>2010-05-03T10:41:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:45:16.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Zoo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;I always wanted to work at a zoo. Who wouldn't want to feed the monkeys, and hold the cuddly bears? I know it would be so much fun to play with the snakes and love on the spiders. I could give the pigs theirs slop or toss some meat to the gators. This job just sounds so perfect. I would say I wish I had this job, but I already do. I just work with the monkeys though. Their names are Ashton, Adam, Hayne, Anna Grace, and Andrew. Their mom says I'm their favorite babysitter, I mean zoo keeper. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-5866890591907360600?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/5866890591907360600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/zoo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5866890591907360600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5866890591907360600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/zoo.html' title='The Zoo'/><author><name>Kayla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08678353832795035551</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Sdhu8SzEp0Y/TNDWJGhjloI/AAAAAAAAABE/DF3QAFLPZus/S220/ADAMS,KAYLA4370.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-2384369434326471752</id><published>2010-05-03T10:40:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:05:20.859-04:00</updated><title type='text'>58. A Vacation (Marlena)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One of my most memorable vacations occurred in 2004, the year of the Athens Summer Olympics.  We still lived in Germany, and we were on our way to visit our grandparents in Croatia for the umpteenth time.  My mom, who was tired of visiting the boring little mountain-top town of Grobnik, insisted that we travel and see a little bit of Europe since we were on vacation anyway.  So, we decided to take the car and drive to Venice, Italy for a day trip, then we used the rest of the week to visit Salzburg, Austria and Hungary.&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Venice proved to be a nice trip, and we enjoyed the outing to Salzburg, but everything went downhill when we arrived at Budapest.  Somehow, we managed to time the trip so that we were in Budapest during a vicious heat wave.  Thus, instead of doing much sightseeing, we rented a space from some people, and lived in a small, apartment-like building, along with the family's small black terrier, that shared our dwelling with us.  That was a little weird. We passed the time by watching the Olympics on television, and by cheering like lunatics whenever the Americans competed.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One day, to escape the heat, we decided to swim in the &lt;i&gt;Plattensee, &lt;/i&gt;which in German means "flat sea."  Well, we somehow managed to completely miss the foreboding tone of the name, and waded out into the murky brown water.  And we waded.  And we waded.  Eventually (once we were about half a mile out,) it occurred to us that the water was not rising above our thighs (and I was ten at this time, mind you).  As far out as we could see, people were standing in water that was just up to their thighs.  Since there wasn't much hope of us being able to do much swimming, my sister Larissa and I decided that we would at least sit on the float we had dragged out with us.  Somehow, we ended up flipping the float over (I know not how), and both of us plunged beneath the surface of the sea.  The first words I heard when my head popped back up to the surface were Larissa unexpected, despairing cry of "My glasses!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Well, we tried our hardest, but were never able to find Larissa's glasses in the dark, sludgy water.  After that, the vacation was pretty much shot, so we drove back to Germany and watched the rest of the Olympics on TV, after Larissa got a new pair of glasses.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-2384369434326471752?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/2384369434326471752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/58-vacation-marlena.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/2384369434326471752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/2384369434326471752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/58-vacation-marlena.html' title='58. A Vacation (Marlena)'/><author><name>Marlena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12036413466652207264</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UPKdmwQbqtA/Sql1OSQJUjI/AAAAAAAAAAM/eGcXi6Lnu_U/S220/European+Vacation+091.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-2609547658781753359</id><published>2010-05-03T10:40:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:48:48.205-04:00</updated><title type='text'>All Pepped Up (#69)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;When I was a child, our town had a restaurant called Fazzoli's. Because their food was great and not too costly, we ate there many times. One time we had ordered and were waiting on our food to finish cooking when I received one of the biggest dares I've ever had. One of my sisters dared me to eat a piece of pepper shaving toppings that the restaurant had. I don't remember exactly what happened next, but I distinctly recall running to the restroom trying to wash the pepper out of my eye. My suspicions lean to the idea that someone hit my arm causing me to place it in my eye. Thankfully, I learned to steer clear of that Italian food topping and my sister and her dares.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-2609547658781753359?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/2609547658781753359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/all-pepped-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/2609547658781753359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/2609547658781753359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/all-pepped-up.html' title='All Pepped Up (#69)'/><author><name>Andrew S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561731025273566793</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9vh4whQD7r4/S2HwgdZ-VhI/AAAAAAAAAA4/g0NOxKYLdmA/S220/memememememememe2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-6806040363124231599</id><published>2010-05-03T10:40:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:45:25.927-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Kenny's 15. Hardest Test I Ever Took</title><content type='html'>I dont remember specifics, but Biology was the hardest class I ever took. I studied really hard for the tests, but always made Bs or Cs, and always made high As on everything else. Biology is my only B on my transcript. I am so glad I exempted the final! The semester exam was the hardest test ever. She goes around and passes out books for exams- you should see them! It must take her &lt;b&gt;hours&lt;/b&gt; to type and think of all the questions that go into her semester exam. She is a great teacher, but she really should cut back on the difficulty if she wants more gifts for Christmas from us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-6806040363124231599?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/6806040363124231599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/kennys-15-hardest-test-i-ever-took.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/6806040363124231599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/6806040363124231599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/kennys-15-hardest-test-i-ever-took.html' title='Kenny&apos;s 15. Hardest Test I Ever Took'/><author><name>KPB3</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08663018712794274893</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-3600944685209142189.post-7850900911175901390</id><published>2010-05-03T10:40:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:44:12.718-04:00</updated><title type='text'>52. Playing Dress-up</title><content type='html'>Most little boys don't play dress up, but I had a good reason to. I had the &lt;i&gt;best costume ever&lt;/i&gt;: the Red Power Ranger. Back in the days when I watched that show religiously, I'd go put my little costume on and start beating up the Putties and beating the bad guys with the Megazord. I put that thing on at least once a day until I wore it slap out. Those were the good ol' days where my crazy imagination first started. The Red Ranger is still someone I aspire to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-7850900911175901390?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/7850900911175901390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/52-playing-dress-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7850900911175901390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7850900911175901390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/52-playing-dress-up.html' title='52. Playing Dress-up'/><author><name>Cody</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14933284765866187421</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-3600944685209142189.post-642656490265442445</id><published>2010-05-03T10:39:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:44:16.416-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My very earliest memory- Sam</title><content type='html'>My very earliest memories are of my house in New York. I remember the snowy winters mostly. My dad hooked a sled up to my two dogs once. My sister and I got on the sled and held it tightly. The my dad smacked the dogs, and we were off. My dogs took us on a wild adventure through the trails in our woods. about halfway through the trip, my mischievous mind started formulating a plan. I turned to my sister, who was seated behind me, and pushed her off the sled. That was my first practical joke.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-642656490265442445?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/642656490265442445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-very-earliest-memory-sam.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/642656490265442445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/642656490265442445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-very-earliest-memory-sam.html' title='My very earliest memory- Sam'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09694344820569868268</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-3600944685209142189.post-7785815271341549785</id><published>2010-05-03T10:38:00.019-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:56:12.240-04:00</updated><title type='text'>SOUTHERN SWEET TEA</title><content type='html'>66. Tea&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;SWEET TEA is the only kind of tea there is. So what's up with the Northerners calling our sweet tea iced tea? Its just wrong. If your from the South(and i am, and proud of my southern heritage) you cant have the Northerners version of "sweet tea" you got to have the real sweet tea, the kind that grandmaw makes. It makes me mad when someone from the North comes down here and calls our sweet tea iced tea, down here in the South its SWEET TEA. The way i like my is when its sweet but not to sweet but just right. If i ever go up to the North i would get laughed at because of my Southern ways, but i wouldnt care cause thats who i am. The Southern way is the only way to go so im just saying if your from the North dont come down here calling our SWEET TEA iced tea you need to respect them nice Southern folks which are on there front porch in a rocker, with their huntin' dog, and drinkin SWEET TEA. And if your from the South calling our SWEET TEA iced tea you just need to go on back up to yankee town.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-7785815271341549785?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/7785815271341549785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/66.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7785815271341549785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7785815271341549785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/66.html' title='SOUTHERN SWEET TEA'/><author><name>BTHACKER</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02155048422977696390</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-3600944685209142189.post-336619050779726273</id><published>2010-05-03T10:38:00.018-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:52:13.508-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mexican Food</title><content type='html'>Cathy T. and Kenny B. are the ones that got me to go to El Patron with Amanda, Christina, Jennifer H., Katie R., Jamie, and Rebekah. I had never been to a "real" Mexican restaurant before, but it was not a good experience. The food was good, but unknown to me, my "friends" had a terrible plot in mind. I'm not even sure when they did it, but someone told the Mexican waiter that it was my birthday (it was April and my birthday is in January). I finally caught onto them when I noticed Rebekah whispering suspiciously to Amanda. I asked Rebekah what she did, and she replied, "Not everything is about you, Brittany." I kinda got knocked off me little pedestal and thought I was just being paranoid. Then all of a sudden, I was surrounded by waiters singing "Happy birthday, fine &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;chica&lt;/span&gt;!" I just sat there mortified as my "friends" captured the beautiful moment on camera. The moral of the story is "If you are paranoid that your friends have done something potentially evil, they probably have."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-336619050779726273?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/336619050779726273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/mexican-food.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/336619050779726273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/336619050779726273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/mexican-food.html' title='Mexican Food'/><author><name>Brit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17784146564263043354</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emk9YPjGiLc/SqK0lIOzxcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/x8KquWE1PWk/S220/Brittany%27s+Pontiac+(3).jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-1982628864869834248</id><published>2010-05-03T10:38:00.015-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:47:34.522-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Carl Horton's Journal entry #35 Anything about the USA</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I am very thankful that I was born in America. America is a great country, and there are many great aspects of life here. However, i do have one complaint. Americans do not appreciate the beautiful game of soccer. I realize that soccer is growing in popularity, and that more people are watching it, but the population at large is still in the dark about soccer. Football fans say that soccer is for wimps. I would say that football is for scared wimps. Football players have to put on countless pads and a helmet to protect themselves from the other grown men that are trying to give them broken bones and a concussion. I do receive some enjoyment from watching football, but it is more of a gladiatorial enjoyment. I would love to debate this topic further, but i feel that my point is made.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-1982628864869834248?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/1982628864869834248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/carl-hortons-journal-entry-35-anything.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/1982628864869834248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/1982628864869834248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/carl-hortons-journal-entry-35-anything.html' title='Carl Horton&apos;s Journal entry #35 Anything about the USA'/><author><name>Carl Horton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04868599319603173067</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-3600944685209142189.post-2369468894726607336</id><published>2010-05-03T10:38:00.012-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:44:22.857-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal Entrie Kindergarten</title><content type='html'>I had a very interesting year in Kindergarten. I was very confused because I had never actually been taught anything before. The teachers kept drilling me on these ridiculous cards that had some stupid thing called the alphabet on them. I also had one of my first legitimate kisses in Kindergarten. A very crazy girl in my class ambushed me around a corner and kissed me right on the cheek; I was absolutely demoralized. I was mortified. It was easily the worst moment of my life. So, out of anger, I told on her and she got in big trouble. THis was definitely the defining moment of my Kindergarten.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-2369468894726607336?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/2369468894726607336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/journal-entrie-kindergarten.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/2369468894726607336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/2369468894726607336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/journal-entrie-kindergarten.html' title='Journal Entrie Kindergarten'/><author><name>akyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16242276546847248681</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-3600944685209142189.post-5850142034024921538</id><published>2010-05-03T10:38:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:43:00.158-04:00</updated><title type='text'>An Unusual Thing I'm Thankful For (11-13-09)</title><content type='html'>I'm thankful for the desks at school. Without them we poor students would have to sit on the floor and take notes in our laps. They are also good for people who want to know what life was like in the '90s for the 7th grader who decided to graffiti the desk he was sitting in. They also apparently make good places to hide gum that had already been chewed; just look at the bottom of a desk in Mr. Bartlett's room. And they have those cool little racks for storing your books under your desk (and forgetting they are there). Yes, I'm thankful for these desks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-5850142034024921538?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/5850142034024921538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/unusual-thing-im-thankful-for-11-13-09.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5850142034024921538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5850142034024921538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/unusual-thing-im-thankful-for-11-13-09.html' title='An Unusual Thing I&apos;m Thankful For (11-13-09)'/><author><name>Stephen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12928873509924132885</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-3600944685209142189.post-6280724089046308956</id><published>2010-05-03T10:37:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:43:10.536-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='william&apos;s'/><title type='text'>#5 A close friend</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;A close friend is someone i would confide in.  My closest friend helped write this journal last night . He is well, fun and normal, and people call him bill.  Being a procrastinator he uses coffee in the mornings for those late nights. His journal is due today. sorry! I have to help him write it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-6280724089046308956?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/6280724089046308956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/5-close-friend.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/6280724089046308956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/6280724089046308956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/5-close-friend.html' title='#5 A close friend'/><author><name>William</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06112263796566333321</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-3600944685209142189.post-7575503287779844759</id><published>2010-05-03T10:37:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:42:42.965-04:00</updated><title type='text'>chocolate</title><content type='html'>I don' know what possesses people to like chocolate so much, especially women. I like it, but after the first few bites it isn't so great. Some people obsess over it. I would much rather have cake or something. Chocolate used to be very expensive. Only rich Europeans enjoyed chocolate. A man named, Hershey, found that by reducing the amount of chocolate and replacing that with milk, sugar, and butter he could reduce the price. He opened his factory in Hershey, Pennsylvania. I drove through the town once. I will be the first to say, it smells nothing like chocolate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-7575503287779844759?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/7575503287779844759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/chocolate.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7575503287779844759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7575503287779844759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/chocolate.html' title='chocolate'/><author><name>kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12775762321995772932</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-3600944685209142189.post-6968954304815488045</id><published>2010-05-03T10:37:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:42:21.060-04:00</updated><title type='text'>65. Chocolate - Katie Riggins</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Chocolate is truly a girl's best friend. Chocolate is there through all life's ups and downs. She comforts the broken hearted. Chocolate will come in any form needed to help her friend. Sometimes she comes as ice cream and others as a small Russel Stover chocolate. And then when her friend needs to feel special, she'll come as an elegant Godiva chocolate. Chocolate is also there when her friend needs a boost of energy as peanut M&amp;amp;Ms. Chocolate is the best friend a girl could ever have. I cannot think of another more willing to be there for a friend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-6968954304815488045?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/6968954304815488045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/65-chocolate-katie-riggins.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/6968954304815488045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/6968954304815488045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/65-chocolate-katie-riggins.html' title='65. Chocolate - Katie Riggins'/><author><name>Katie R</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oS6VfFb3rHE/SqLSXN1DDOI/AAAAAAAAAAU/I9xPwrfQHfA/S220/4694_126879120672_630050672_3159141_320396_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-1718304444676046387</id><published>2010-05-03T10:36:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:47:16.033-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A CONVENIENCE I TAKE FOR GRANTED</title><content type='html'>I take many things for granted! I've been to China and have also seen on TV where people in other countries are hopeless and even seen people in our own country who have so much less than I do. But it is so easy to forget what you told yourself you would never take for granted again. When you get into your same routine, you stop noticing those things that make your life so much better. I mean I have a bed that is soft with pillows and blankets, I have heat and AC, I have running water, I have indoor plumbing and toilet paper, I have nice clothes and shoes, I have a car, I have a wonderful family, I have good health, I have good food and clean water, I can go to school, I have friends, I have pets, I have internet, I have a personal relationship with the very Son of God, I have so much to be thankful for from big to small, that I can't even begin to count! It's amazing to just sit and think of all the ways I'm blessed that I just always have and take for granted! I try everyday to remember how my blessings outweigh my problems when I feel like complaining.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-1718304444676046387?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/1718304444676046387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/convenience-i-take-for-granted.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/1718304444676046387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/1718304444676046387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/convenience-i-take-for-granted.html' title='A CONVENIENCE I TAKE FOR GRANTED'/><author><name>Samantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13759339261220094141</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-3600944685209142189.post-8741248204886051963</id><published>2010-05-03T10:36:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:41:01.510-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Smells of Autumn</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF6600;"&gt;I love the good smells of Autumn and all the other good things it brings. My favorite smells are ones like the musky smell of old, dead leaves burning. Where the old man has worked all week to rake a mountain of colorful leaves and then sets a flame to them and they begin to crackle and pop. The smell lingers in the air and grabs my attention as I sniff once then twice, never getting enough of it. I also enjoy the savory smell of my mom baking and cooking delectable dishes and desserts that she only bakes at this time of year. If I could capture one things and take it with me, in a jar, throughout the other seasons it would be all the smells of Autumn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-8741248204886051963?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/8741248204886051963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/smells-of-autumn.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/8741248204886051963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/8741248204886051963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/smells-of-autumn.html' title='Smells of Autumn'/><author><name>Kayla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08678353832795035551</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Sdhu8SzEp0Y/TNDWJGhjloI/AAAAAAAAABE/DF3QAFLPZus/S220/ADAMS,KAYLA4370.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-3301216259685643016</id><published>2010-05-03T10:36:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:40:49.351-04:00</updated><title type='text'>21. A Bad Storm</title><content type='html'>Pretty much any storm is a bad storm for me. I am absolutely terrified of lightning; have been since I was little. But I remember one particular storm when I was but a wee lad. It was one of those all-day packages: howling wind, booming thunder, jagged lightning, off and on. Well, me and my mom were watching tv when all of a sudden the picture went out. Then a little message at the bottom of the screen said, "Satellite signal not found; please stand by." Being the naive fellow I was, I walked right over and stood by the tv thinking, "I'm gonna fix this." Sure enough, in about a minute, the tv came back on. However, my buzz has been killed in years since. I now no longer think of myself as the tv repairman. Turns out standing by the tv isn't what the satellite company has in mind when they send that message. :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-3301216259685643016?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/3301216259685643016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/21-bad-storm.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3301216259685643016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3301216259685643016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/21-bad-storm.html' title='21. A Bad Storm'/><author><name>Cody</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14933284765866187421</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-3600944685209142189.post-7814241455223300228</id><published>2010-05-03T10:35:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:49:39.990-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What's a Doll?? (#53)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;What guy plays with dolls? I never have. The reason- I played with GI Joes. Because of my love for the US Army, I played with GI Joes all during my childhood. These are not dolls, but figures of action that can guide a person into a combat situation or into a dangerous governmental operation. My GI Joe, named Andy (for me), was my best non-human friend. We climbed the Rocky Mountains and fired nuclear bombs on foreign countries. Whichever country I heard had bothered America, Andy and I delivered atomic bombs upon request from the President. I remember reading about the Oklahoma City Bombing nearly 2 years after it happened and believing that Andy and I could have prevented such an attack from ever occurring. I had quite the imagination. But those years with Andy are some of the greatest years I've had. Andy resurfaces from time to time, but he doesn't stay around because of the Army's need for him. But he was the coolest action figure I ever had!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-7814241455223300228?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/7814241455223300228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/whats-doll.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7814241455223300228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7814241455223300228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/whats-doll.html' title='What&apos;s a Doll?? (#53)'/><author><name>Andrew S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561731025273566793</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9vh4whQD7r4/S2HwgdZ-VhI/AAAAAAAAAA4/g0NOxKYLdmA/S220/memememememememe2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-6117403067347934844</id><published>2010-05-03T10:35:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:48:22.139-04:00</updated><title type='text'>6: Grandparents</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I hope to be a grandparent one day. I will make the most of it. My grandkids will love coming over to my house, because of how great I will treat them. I will have them call me Pops or Gramps. I will spoil them with candies and gifts. I will teach them to become their own person, to help benefit them during their lives. Even though i will be silly with them, they will still respect and fear me. I will make them so scared to disobey me that they will tremble at the thought of it. They will know that I am stern, but fair. I believe that me and my grandkids will have great fun, and that's why I can't wait to become a grandparent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-6117403067347934844?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/6117403067347934844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/6-grandparents.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/6117403067347934844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/6117403067347934844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/6-grandparents.html' title='6: Grandparents'/><author><name>Vaughn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09108677768528774607</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-3600944685209142189.post-2014012999705894532</id><published>2010-05-03T10:35:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:42:02.555-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Special Elementary Teacher 10-1-09</title><content type='html'>Mrs. Daniel is awesome! She not only taught me things I use every day, but she knew how to comfort a scared little girl. One morning on the way to school my mom hit a pot-hole very hard and didn't know until we got to school that it was flat. Well I walked into class, ran up to Mrs. DAniel and had a meltdown. I thought the world would end. Mr. Kaufman stopped to help mom, but that didn't mean anything to me. To comfort me Mrs. Daniel said, "If Mr. Kaufman cannot do it I'll go out and do it myself. Everything will be dandy!" Not till 2 years ago did she tell me she prayed so hard that Mr. Nick would do it right cause she had NO IDEA what to do!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-2014012999705894532?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/2014012999705894532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/special-elementary-teacher-10-1-09.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/2014012999705894532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/2014012999705894532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/special-elementary-teacher-10-1-09.html' title='Special Elementary Teacher 10-1-09'/><author><name>Cathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09666659226892028800</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QDvLf6kct8s/SqAXK7-nyvI/AAAAAAAAABE/YJsrtUfdZZs/S220/PICT4885.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-550285671146782911</id><published>2010-05-03T10:34:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:43:57.076-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Free Choice Entry</title><content type='html'>I am glad that we have a free choice entry, because we as people and Americans have the right to free choice. We are able to think what we want to and speak our feelings about all issues. Sometimes when people are constantly telling you what they believe to be right, it alters your own thinking. I think this is true in schools as well (especially in younger grades.) Young kids minds are easy to mold, but sometimes it is taken too far. If you are constantly pounding certain beliefs or ideas into their head, they only that one view. And by the time they get old enough to decide for themselves, they are not open to new things and ideas. We should teach kids to be open to different kinds of people and ideas, and when they are older they can make the choice for themselves.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-550285671146782911?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/550285671146782911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/free-choice-entry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/550285671146782911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/550285671146782911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/free-choice-entry.html' title='Free Choice Entry'/><author><name>Katie Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06199140446575047538</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YDQJJAPGkw4/SqAgdk8cJ4I/AAAAAAAAAAs/YNMJiUg4fr4/S220/treehugger.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-5442107604325976743</id><published>2010-05-03T10:33:00.012-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T11:05:16.653-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Journal Entries</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The Playground &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;As the long school day began, i would always await the bell that would dismiss us to the playground for recess. it was a sense of relief as we walked outside to the playground just to catch that fresh breath of air. after sitting inside for two or three hours, a kid can only wait for so long. I have to say, i think the only thing that made me want to go to school in the morning would have to be recess on the playground. Of course there is always the rules you have to abide by on the playground like no throwing mulch at other kids or no jumping off the swing but i have to say if they never told us these rules i would have probably never would have done them, because the rules are what gave me the idea in the first place. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Getting in trouble as a kid &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Surprising to probably many of my high school teachers, i was a little troublemaker in kindergarten. i cant even count how many times i was put in time out for tripping, biting or just instigating someone else to do something wrong. although i was never actually sent to the principals office for a patteling, ive had some pretty near expiereinces. Being the instigater as a child i didnt get in trouble that much but caused other, poor, innocent children to on many accounts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The Gift of Jesus Christ &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;What a great thing it is to be called a Christian. God has given the greatest gift to the world- eternal life- that life is in His Son. For many, Christmas is a time for dreaded christmas shopping, recieving gifts or presents or time of work or school but most people are so caught up in the "holiday hustle" that they forget the main reason for celebrating christmas and that is the birth of Jesus Christ. I know one thing is for sure i am proud to be called a christian, and as many go through the tradition of "holiday hustle" i will be praising my God for the gift of salvation and eternal life that was given to us through Jesus Christ, the greatest gift ever! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-5442107604325976743?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/5442107604325976743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/journal-entries.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5442107604325976743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5442107604325976743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/journal-entries.html' title='Journal Entries'/><author><name>Amanda.Barrow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10795150826056207250</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-3600944685209142189.post-4587512960300861642</id><published>2010-05-03T10:33:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:40:38.204-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Kenny's 13. Special Elementary Teacher</title><content type='html'>The most.. memorable.. teacher I had was Mrs. Magillicuddy, but everyone called her Mrs. Mack. She taught my 4th grade and 6th grade class. Every other day she had a meltdown, and had either tears or wrath. Brittany McAbee and Andrew Kyle, who were both in my 4th grade class, can vouch that she was awful. She insulted our intelligence and wouldnt allow us to take breaks between periods. You may think, "Well you must have been a rough class to teach, you were asking for it." No. We were always well behaved and prepared. We would sometimes play games together, and she said that if we got too many wrong that we would stop. She was overly strict and attacked student's willpower, emotions, and drive and feasted on our tears. Andrew left the school because of her. One time, she made me cry- well, more than once, but this time especially- in the hall interrogating me and asking why I was leaving the school next year. Needless to say, I dont miss her at all, but I do have her to thank for many tears and memories I will always hold on to to make people pity my childhood.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-4587512960300861642?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/4587512960300861642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/kennys-13-special-elementary-teacher.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4587512960300861642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4587512960300861642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/kennys-13-special-elementary-teacher.html' title='Kenny&apos;s 13. Special Elementary Teacher'/><author><name>KPB3</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08663018712794274893</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-3600944685209142189.post-7121084477933837926</id><published>2010-05-03T10:33:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:38:50.049-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Convenience I Take for Granted (11-13-09)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;A Convenience I take for granted is indoor plumbing. Without it our sinks would not work. Also, we could not have showers (that would be nasty!). And not to be crude but neither would our toilets work and we would have to hike through the cold and rain to an unheated (and in the summer un-air conditioned) outhouse. Talk about miserable! Whoever invented indoor plumbing, I'd like to shake your sink-washed hand and I'll take my hat off to you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-7121084477933837926?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/7121084477933837926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/convenience-i-take-for-granted-11-13-09.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7121084477933837926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7121084477933837926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/convenience-i-take-for-granted-11-13-09.html' title='A Convenience I Take for Granted (11-13-09)'/><author><name>Stephen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12928873509924132885</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-3600944685209142189.post-3883863174861709672</id><published>2010-05-03T10:32:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:44:38.530-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ashley Harbin: The Beach (Oct. 12,2009)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;This past Labor Day I went with Samantha Suttles and her family to the beaches around Charleston. One of our favorite adventures was when we walked the new Charleston bridge at night. to walk across the bridge and back, it is five miles. That night, we only walked half-way, so it was 2.5 miles. This bridge is a major part of the city and many cars travel on it (if you did not know, the interstate is on this bridge.) Imagine, Samantha, her family, and myself at 9:00 pm, walking this huge bridge n our flip flops and cute outfits. Oh, I forgot to mention that this bridge is hundreds of feet tall! Thankfully, because it was dark, we couldn't see very well how far it was down. It seemed like an eternity to get to the middle of the bridge, but we did it! We took many pictures and stood amazed as we could see all of Charleston in the distance. If you have ever seen the attachments that a suspended bridge has, each attachment is large! I find it astounding that God has allowed such wisdom and expertise to engineers for them to design such intricate projects. As we were coming down, my heart was beating rapidly as speeding cars were a few feet away from me, only separated by a three foot concrete wall! When we arrived at the starting point, Sam and I were thankful that we can drive across bridges, and not walk across them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-3883863174861709672?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/3883863174861709672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/ashley-harbin-beach-oct-122009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3883863174861709672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3883863174861709672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/ashley-harbin-beach-oct-122009.html' title='Ashley Harbin: The Beach (Oct. 12,2009)'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08751746050801612232</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-3600944685209142189.post-5340074528001138688</id><published>2010-05-03T10:32:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:42:34.247-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Something I've learned Academically</title><content type='html'>Always study for Mrs.Prince's tests! Don't forget a red pen in Mrs.Wilkins' class! Don't forget a book in Mrs.Wilkins' class! Don't forget anything in Mrs.Wilkins' class! Don't lie to Mrs.Prince(not me,someone else.) Turn in your homework even if it's not done in Mrs.Bailes's class. Mrs.Bailes and Mrs.Kaufman love rabbit trails, and we love them too! Don't wear a jacket in Mr.Berry's class. Don't talk in his class and if you don't think he hears you... he does! Don't write in your journal in Mr.Bartlett's class (which I'm doing right not:) Give your best in every class!&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt; *Nicole Charron&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-5340074528001138688?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/5340074528001138688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/something-ive-learned-academically.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5340074528001138688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5340074528001138688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/something-ive-learned-academically.html' title='Something I&apos;ve learned Academically'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06308523083664293405</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-3600944685209142189.post-8689174626455751947</id><published>2010-05-03T10:32:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:42:19.784-04:00</updated><title type='text'>33. My papa</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000066;"&gt;To most people World War II is a story told by old people or history books,but to me its part of my grandfather and therefore me. My Papa was a private first class in the United States Marines Corps during WWII. MY Papa, Allan Willie Hayes, fought in the Pacific (Iwo Jima,Saipan,Tinian, and so on). My grandmother still tells me his stories,such as when he drove the vehicles on the beach at Iwo Jima with his lights off and he could distinctly feel the bodies laying on te beach under his wheels. I miss Papa terribly, he died when i was two from lung cancer and to this day every time I or my mother see his uniform in the closet we get choked up. I am very proud of who my Papa was and sometimes when i look at photographs of him holding me,or watch videos of him calling me suga pie, or dancing with me in my tutu, i can remember his face and the way his deep voice made me feel. I miss him and wish he were here every day but i know he's watching me and loving me even now while I write about my special Marine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-8689174626455751947?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/8689174626455751947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/33-my-papa.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/8689174626455751947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/8689174626455751947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/33-my-papa.html' title='33. My papa'/><author><name>bekah</name><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-3600944685209142189.post-1533600496930407880</id><published>2010-05-03T10:32:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:36:10.470-04:00</updated><title type='text'>12. Kindergarten</title><content type='html'>Ah, the joyous memories of kindergarten! The days where the ABC's and counting were the hardest things, and algebra and term papers were unheard of. This was a time where I actually enjoyed going to school. It was fun and exciting, and the terrible woes of the first grade were not yet upon me. I was just a young and eager lad, wanting to learn, not knowing that this educational Paradise would turn into the Prison of High School. Every now and then I wish I could go back to those good ol' days, the days before my mind was warped by complex theories and vocabulary words. Wouldn't we all go back to those simpler times?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-1533600496930407880?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/1533600496930407880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/12-kindergarten.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/1533600496930407880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/1533600496930407880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/12-kindergarten.html' title='12. Kindergarten'/><author><name>Cody</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14933284765866187421</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-3600944685209142189.post-3644145969244831403</id><published>2010-05-03T10:31:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:38:45.973-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Job</title><content type='html'>I have yet to find the job that I get paid doing absolutely nothing. So my second choice of job would be modeling. The reasons are simple. I am good at a lot of things like math, but I have no interest in those things. I despise using my brain, so any job that involves brain usage is automatically out of the perfect career category. But there is one thing I'm good at. Sitting still and looking pretty. On top of that, I love having my picture taken. So the obvious career choice would be modeling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-3644145969244831403?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/3644145969244831403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-job.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3644145969244831403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3644145969244831403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-job.html' title='My Job'/><author><name>Brit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17784146564263043354</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emk9YPjGiLc/SqK0lIOzxcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/x8KquWE1PWk/S220/Brittany%27s+Pontiac+(3).jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-3266379095190317506</id><published>2010-05-03T10:31:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:37:03.489-04:00</updated><title type='text'>28. Autumn - Katie Riggins</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Autumn is a gorgeous time of year. The brisk fresh air brings new life to the lungs. The leaves are painted all different shades of red, orange and yellow. Bright orange pumpkins of all sizes pop up in and outside of homes. Little straw people sit outside of houses to greet guests. Autumn is the time for evening hay rides and bonfires. Smells of pumpkin pies and apples fill homes. And hot chocolate is always a necessity.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-3266379095190317506?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/3266379095190317506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/28-autumn-katie-riggins.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3266379095190317506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3266379095190317506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/28-autumn-katie-riggins.html' title='28. Autumn - Katie Riggins'/><author><name>Katie R</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oS6VfFb3rHE/SqLSXN1DDOI/AAAAAAAAAAU/I9xPwrfQHfA/S220/4694_126879120672_630050672_3159141_320396_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-933181590873977458</id><published>2010-05-03T10:30:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T10:39:51.688-04:00</updated><title type='text'>journal entires- Sam</title><content type='html'>Lunchtime&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have many memories of lunchtime through-out the years. In my experience lunchtime conversations can consist of anything from criticizing movies to philosophical debates about physics. We have pondered the world around us more times than I can count. We have also laughed hysterically until some sort of drink was spewed from some poor soul. My high school friends and I have debated ideas developed by scientists and philosophers from centuries before our time, or we have simply tried to understand them. I may be embellishing the intelligence of our conversations slightly, but the general idea is there. I a going to miss those conversations when I graduate... and chic-fil-a every Tuesday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-933181590873977458?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/933181590873977458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/journal-entires-sam.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/933181590873977458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/933181590873977458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/05/journal-entires-sam.html' title='journal entires- Sam'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09694344820569868268</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-3600944685209142189.post-4898346541542814017</id><published>2010-03-30T11:14:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T13:28:47.737-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: lime;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Aliens, Conches,     Annihilate, Discombobulate      Hunter, Fur, Barrow&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: lime;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: lime;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;1) Aliens annihilate, and conches discombobulate, but the slimy, toxic, aliens never discombobulated downwardly. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: lime;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: lime;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;2) On the shiny purple mountain with plasma ray machine guns and in funky disco outfits, into the bottomless abyss the aliens annihilated the conches of the planet.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: lime;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: lime;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;3) In a wheat field among pits of snakes, aliens which conches never completely discombobulated or annihilated Gonda, aka Bill. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: lime;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: lime;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;4) The aliens valiantly discombobulated as many aliens as possible, but the conches who had a giant shell called Donkey Conch as their king annihilated them all as the drum was beaten.  &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-4898346541542814017?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/4898346541542814017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/03/pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoco.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4898346541542814017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4898346541542814017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/03/pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoco.html' title='Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis'/><author><name>lizardoyame</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992871601959638230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhLHVqDcjr8/Sp7fx6ZdJYI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QvCgWziEvvY/S220/BJA+Jr.+Sr.+Dress+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-4005658749347245367</id><published>2010-03-30T11:05:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-30T11:11:58.786-04:00</updated><title type='text'>WORDY-NESS</title><content type='html'>Verbs- Dive, Count&lt;div&gt;Subject- Theory, Philosopher&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. The large, intelligent, unique philosopher that lived in a small cottage who was very slow to speak and very quick to listen, did not quickly count the strange alien theories that occurred in the hills of Ireland.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Of all the ideas that were brought up about the Air and Space Administration, in Dover, Ireland, the theories dove into a false belief.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. The short, witty philosopher being of the dwarvin race who was the chief of all his tribe counted all his people.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;4. Being poor in spirit, the fat, mean philosopher that was rude and greedy counted all of his money that was in his personal bank. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;Jamie, William, Josiah&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-4005658749347245367?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/4005658749347245367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/03/wordy-ness.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4005658749347245367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4005658749347245367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/03/wordy-ness.html' title='WORDY-NESS'/><author><name>Joe-Shmo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__bZXRfTj0L0/Sqgvn-gXkrI/AAAAAAAAAHA/eyQHhyqz74Y/S220/guitar5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-9063566978070352739</id><published>2010-03-30T10:45:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-30T11:13:20.749-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Chronicles of a Silent Animal</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Kenny, Kevin, and Brandon&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;animal&lt;div&gt;book&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To be&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To kill&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1) The intelligent animal quickly studied the big book, and he hurriedly decided to silently kill the staring witness, but he would be extremely punished.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2) The animal was being aggressive in the zoo before it escaped from its cage beside the giraffe and killed the guard with a book.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3) The stealthy animal in the shadows planned that he would be stealing the mercenary's gun from the hollow book while simultaneously killing the other guard with a banana peel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4) The killer animal inside the warehouse killed the last guard with multiple books from the shelf, and the beast was being chased by the final boss who grazed him with a knife before he got away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-9063566978070352739?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/9063566978070352739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/03/chronicles-of-silent-animal.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/9063566978070352739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/9063566978070352739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/03/chronicles-of-silent-animal.html' title='The Chronicles of a Silent Animal'/><author><name>KPB3</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08663018712794274893</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-755616603014883442</id><published>2010-03-30T10:45:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-30T11:12:13.619-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Boy, Fox, Run, Play, Sam, Marlena, and Katie R.'s sentences</title><content type='html'>Freely and joyfully, the short boy played in the rolling fields; the red fox ran jovially at his side; they had never enjoyed a more pleasant afternoon.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Over the course of the week, during his stay in Montana, the boy ran and played with the fox in the fields of dandelion.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Upon his arriving at the den, the red fox mirthfully ran to greet the peasant boy, who played with with morning to evening.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Exuberant and ecstatic, the fox ran to meet the boy; the boy ran to meet the fox when he saw him across field, eager to play with him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-755616603014883442?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/755616603014883442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/03/boy-fox-run-play-sam-marlena-and-katie.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/755616603014883442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/755616603014883442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/03/boy-fox-run-play-sam-marlena-and-katie.html' title='Boy, Fox, Run, Play, Sam, Marlena, and Katie R.&apos;s sentences'/><author><name>Marlena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12036413466652207264</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UPKdmwQbqtA/Sql1OSQJUjI/AAAAAAAAAAM/eGcXi6Lnu_U/S220/European+Vacation+091.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-9023681989159957172</id><published>2010-03-30T10:44:00.015-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-30T11:13:28.720-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Elephant</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;Rebekah,Cathy, and Carl.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;Subjects:Elephant and New York&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;Verbs:Giggle and Gallop&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;1. The large,grey elephant galloped and giggled to himself, he made his hasty escape from the prison like zoo of New York City, and he found a refuge under his new waterfall.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;2. In the morning, under the waterfalls, the elephant giggled as he watched the foolish humans from New York attempt to gallop towards the waterfall and over the mountain vainly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;3. As the elephant sat under the waterfall he giggled as he galloped towards the scrambling inhabitants of New York.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;4. Suddenly, the elephant galloped and rammed the mountain with a hatred for New York City and the as climbers plummeted to the earth he sat by the waterfall and giggled self-contentedly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-9023681989159957172?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/9023681989159957172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/03/elephant.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/9023681989159957172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/9023681989159957172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/03/elephant.html' title='Elephant'/><author><name>bekah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-1869793383558848491</id><published>2010-03-30T10:44:00.014-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-30T11:07:43.674-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sentence Assignments By the Triangle of Doom a.k.a KT, CC, and Cody "The Man" Hanks</title><content type='html'>Two subjects are : Man and Woman&lt;div&gt;Two verbs  are: Run and See&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. The man quickly ran in order to hurriedly see the woman who was desperately running the other way; the man had just dumped her, and then suddenly seeing the light, realized that he had horribly messed up; he was breathlessly sprinting at this point.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. After the game, outside the stadium, the man and woman saw the crowd running toward the police barricade in order to start a riot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. After intently watching the new movie, the man and his woman, who was his first girlfriend since his wife died, quickly decided to run to the restaurant around the block.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. On Blueberry Hill, the man which had just killed somebody was furtively looking all around for his woman accomplice to meet him; they had done the foul deed the night before, and seeing that running from the authorities was the best thing to do, they anxiously waited for the day of their departure to come.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-1869793383558848491?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/1869793383558848491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/03/sentence-assignments-by-triangle-of.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/1869793383558848491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/1869793383558848491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/03/sentence-assignments-by-triangle-of.html' title='Sentence Assignments By the Triangle of Doom a.k.a KT, CC, and Cody &quot;The Man&quot; Hanks'/><author><name>Cody</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14933284765866187421</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-5494435571072321676</id><published>2010-03-30T10:44:00.013-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-30T11:03:07.407-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Cuatro Sentences</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Samantha, Andrew, Joseph&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Subjects- ball,dog&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;verbs- dance,play&lt;/div&gt;1 . The dog gently nudged the large, round, red ball, and he played with the opulent ball, and he danced in the street because he had so much fun.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. The dog with the ball played in the street and danced around the block in one hour.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. The ball that rolled down the street was nudged by the dog with a wet,black nose that was playing and that was owned by the boy who was dancing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. While the dog was dancing around, he saw a ball thrown by a boy rolling down the large hill; the dog played with the ball thrown recently by the boy until the boy form the top of the hill came to retrieve it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-5494435571072321676?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/5494435571072321676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/03/our-cuatro-sentences.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5494435571072321676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5494435571072321676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/03/our-cuatro-sentences.html' title='Our Cuatro Sentences'/><author><name>Samantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13759339261220094141</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-3600944685209142189.post-8841716255084115934</id><published>2010-03-30T10:44:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-30T11:00:40.045-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ashley, Brittany, and Stephen's Amazing Sentences</title><content type='html'>By: Ashley, Brittany, &amp;amp; Stephen&lt;div&gt;Subjects: person and animal&lt;div&gt;Verbs: walk and said&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. That clumsy person, like a doofus, walked staggardly toward the vending machine, and the vicious and terrible animal said "walk that way"; the person then went on his way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. The person walked under the bridge, beside the supermarket, and found a machete, and left with it and walked into the mortuary.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. The vicious and terrible animal watched as the person handed the machete to the undertaker of the mortuary. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. The undertaker with the machete rushed to his home as the person said," That was odd;" mean while, the undertaker used the machete to clear a path in the woods to allow the vicious terrible animal to return to his home in the woods.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-8841716255084115934?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/8841716255084115934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/03/ashley-brittany-and-stephens-amazing.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/8841716255084115934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/8841716255084115934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/03/ashley-brittany-and-stephens-amazing.html' title='Ashley, Brittany, and Stephen&apos;s Amazing Sentences'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08751746050801612232</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-3600944685209142189.post-8456529287932118092</id><published>2010-03-30T10:43:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-30T11:12:15.229-04:00</updated><title type='text'>2 Subject and 2 Verb Sets of Sentences: Charron, Christian, and Stephens</title><content type='html'>Our two subjects are life and leg. Our two verbs are live and walk.&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;*Andrew Stephens  *Ben Christian  *Nicole Charron&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;1. An honest life lived to the fullest is life lived well; In life we walk this long road hoping not to break a leg; At the end of our lives we reflects on how our walk influenced the way we lived.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;2. Her life was lived with a fake leg under a bridge in the heart of Tenochtitlan where she walked 30 miles each day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;3. Bonnie and Clyde stole the monkeys from the zoo after the police officer walked doughnuts hurriedly to the zoo employees who lived suspicious lives under the left leg of the Mexican government.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;4. She lived as a heartless, ignorant woman who forcefully walked the children to the playground to pick ants; and because of this, she lost her job at the bridge building company and was forced to employ a homeless life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-8456529287932118092?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/8456529287932118092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/03/2-subject-and-2-verb-sets-of-sentences.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/8456529287932118092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/8456529287932118092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/03/2-subject-and-2-verb-sets-of-sentences.html' title='2 Subject and 2 Verb Sets of Sentences: Charron, Christian, and Stephens'/><author><name>Nicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06308523083664293405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-4046611730662577877</id><published>2010-03-23T20:39:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-23T20:48:25.453-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Importance of being Well-Read...or is that Good-Readed?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Reading is a pastime that is frightfully underused in this country.  We live in the "Information Age," in which the average American has access to the television, internet, or both.  Modern television shows and movies have attempted to take over the roles of books in providing people with entertainment and an escape from reality.  What filmmakers don't understand is that their shows do not really benefit the public as much as books would.  Or perhaps they do realize this, and just don't care since they are making a profit.  At any rate, books have more benefits than electronic media, even if they are not always as entertaining.  Books require active participation by forcing people to visualize their own scenes and characters, instead of watching actors who fit the roles to their individual personalities, thus altering the original characters.  Also, books improve people's vocabulary and grammar.  I find it depressing that we live in a culture where people can only communicate using four-letter words (six or seven at best), and where they feel a need to do away with the participle.  Seriously--the team WAS BEATEN, the man WAS BITTEN, and please, please, please, please, please...never EVER use the phrase "had went" in my presence.  Books are very important to a cultured society, and can never be adequately replaced by electronics.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-4046611730662577877?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/4046611730662577877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/03/importance-of-being-well-reador-is-that.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4046611730662577877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4046611730662577877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/03/importance-of-being-well-reador-is-that.html' title='The Importance of being Well-Read...or is that Good-Readed?'/><author><name>Marlena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12036413466652207264</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UPKdmwQbqtA/Sql1OSQJUjI/AAAAAAAAAAM/eGcXi6Lnu_U/S220/European+Vacation+091.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-4189909750115629961</id><published>2010-01-28T14:54:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T22:29:05.906-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Whatever Floats Your Boat..or Kayak..</title><content type='html'>How much of an experience can a person have on the lake? I know I won't forget mine. My family was at Duke Energy (the Oconee Nuclear Station) on October 3, 2009, for a Hunting and Fishing Expo. After we had visited all of the hunting sections, we ventured to the fishing area which, of course, was right at the water. They had lessons on different types of fishing, but also had an area where people could kayak. Being the adventurous people whom we are, my brother, sister, and I decided to ride in the kayaks. I put on my life jacket/vest and asked the college helper which one I should use. Ignorant of how kayaks work, I got in the one she chose which happened to be too small. As I was going along after being in the kayak for nearly 15 minutes, I suddenly tipped over. My whole body was under the lake's surface for what seemed to be an eternity. I tried to scream for help, but I kept going under the water. Finally, the safety people came and brought me back up to the surface and eventually to the bank. The lake was freezing cold which made the event even worse. In addition to all of this experience, it was my brother and sister's birthdays. I'm not completely over the trauma from the incident. But I learned a valuable lesson, "Don't trust a college student half as tall as you to determine which kayak to use on Lake Keowee."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-4189909750115629961?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/4189909750115629961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/whatever-floats-your-boator-kayak.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4189909750115629961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4189909750115629961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/whatever-floats-your-boator-kayak.html' title='Whatever Floats Your Boat..or Kayak..'/><author><name>Andrew S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561731025273566793</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9vh4whQD7r4/S2HwgdZ-VhI/AAAAAAAAAA4/g0NOxKYLdmA/S220/memememememememe2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-3085204527190829469</id><published>2010-01-18T21:24:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T00:43:19.381-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gonda&apos;s thoughts for you'/><title type='text'>The Hard Life of a Crusoe</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;     The plot of this story starts with a young Crusoe ,who is extremely inclined to leave his family, to travel the seas. Against his fathers wishes, he does just that and his good fortune turned to that of a man that is not in God's will. Setting sail to&lt;/span&gt; Guinea&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; the ship wrecks near a island ,and Crusoe alone survives. He finds the ship and is able to obtain many things to help such as guns, gun powder, cloth, and many other useful things. Being the only man there he goes through many hardships of adjusting to his new life style. A major part of the plot is by far how God works in his life, and how God even uses him to witness to a fellow friend he names Friday. The story continues from there as Crusoe tries to still find a way to return to his family.&lt;br /&gt;     The first time Crusoe leans toward God is when he is on his first voyage and feels sick. He comes to the self conclusion that he was indeed out of God's will and was being judged accordingly. The second time he sees God's power and is humbled by it is, when he is ship wrecked as the only survivor. The third time is when he thanks God for being close enough to the island to swim to it. After he is on the island he sees how God will provide, and throughout his solitude he comes to thank God for all the nice things he is given out of want. Now for a fifth example the best one would be when Friday accepts Christianity. Friday's conversion affects Crusoe in a major way bringing him very close to God.&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-3085204527190829469?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/3085204527190829469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/hard-life-of-crusoe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3085204527190829469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3085204527190829469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/hard-life-of-crusoe.html' title='The Hard Life of a Crusoe'/><author><name>William</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06112263796566333321</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-3600944685209142189.post-8533904668287962936</id><published>2010-01-18T18:01:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T10:33:13.351-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Giver of Life</title><content type='html'>Going against his father's advice, Robinson Crusoe becomes a seaman. After many hardships, Crusoe faces still another one. He is shipwrecked on a deserted island as a lone survivor of a shipwreck. The next day Crusoe swims out the the shipwrecked boat and brings back provisions to help him survive on the island. He then builds himself a place to live that is part tent, part cave. Crusoe learns how to kill animals on the island and is blessed when some corn cobs he brought from the ship fall on the ground and grow corn. He becomes very ill during his stay on the island and during this time thinks about Providence and why he is there. He explores the island to find limes and grapes. Crusoe learns that by hanging the grapes in the sun he can then have raisens for winter. Although not skilled in these areas, while on the island Crusoe learns to make pottery, build tables, and weave baskets. Crusoe builds a fence that he keeps a herd of goats in which he discovers is a good source of milk. While on the island, Crusoe keeps up with time by making marks in a piece of wood for each day. After many years, Crusoe finds a young man in distress and saves him. Crusoe names him Friday and teaches him to speak English. Friday submits himself to Crusoe as a slave because Crusoe saved his life. Although reluctant to give up savage religion, Friday soon comes to believe in God and ask many questions about Him. After being on the island for twenty-eight years, Crusoe is finally rescued by a ship captain that was mutinied and rescued by Crusoe. They gain back the ship and return to London after being gone for thirty-five years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Robinson Crusoe would not have survived on the island unless he had God's grace on him. His sole existence after he was shipwrecked depended on God. God was the giver of life to Robinson Crusoe. This was shown through many examples in the story. One example was the fact that although all other people on the ship died, Robinson Crusoe did not die. Crusoe realized this and said that the good was "I am alive, and not drowned, as all my ship's company was." Also, the ship was still intact and close by so that Crusoe was able to get provisions off of it. Crusoe also realized that it was a blessing that there were no human or animal danger to be seen on the island. It was a miracle for Crusoe when some corn cobs that he brought from the ship spilled on the ground and grew into large plants "without a seed sown." This blessing was able to be used the entire time Crusoe was on the island for food. Friday was a companion and helper for Crusoe. The chances of him coming along to help him were rare, and that was why he knew it was God's doing. Crusoe thanked God for the ability of him to keep a flock of goats and many other things. The last blessing of the story was that God truly was his deliverer as Crusoe earlier read in his Bible. God brought forth the opportunity for Crusoe to be rescue after 28 years  and return to his hometown of London. God was the Giver of Life for Crusoe, as for all who believe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-8533904668287962936?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/8533904668287962936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/giver-of-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/8533904668287962936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/8533904668287962936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/giver-of-life.html' title='The Giver of Life'/><author><name>Katie R</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oS6VfFb3rHE/SqLSXN1DDOI/AAAAAAAAAAU/I9xPwrfQHfA/S220/4694_126879120672_630050672_3159141_320396_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-476146156561947150</id><published>2010-01-15T11:13:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T11:14:27.500-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The High Seas of Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;At the beginning of Robinson Crusoe, the narrator stated that he was born in the 1632 in York, England. As a child, he desired to sail the seas and be a merchant; however, his father wanted him to occupy a job that dealt with more business affairs. Robinson's father offered him a life free from the unsettled nature of the drama on the seas. Even though his father's offer was the better choice, Crusoe decided to go against his parents' wishes and set sail for a life on the seas. When Crusoe stepped aboard the ship, a storm began its fury. When he was on that ship, he proclaimed to God that he would go back to his father and mother when his foot touched dry land again and that he would never set sail again. After traveling to London by land, Crusoe decided he would like to sail to New Guinea for slave trade. On this particular voyage, he was overthrown by a man who wanted to pirate the boat. Crusoe's ship surrendered, and the man came on board taking Crusoe as the man's personal slave.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt; After spending several years under this man's rule, Crusoe began to plan an avenue for an escape. One day when his master asked Crusoe to catch fish for a large dinner, Crusoe obliged and went to catch some fish in his boat. Along with him went another man. When Crusoe had traveled far enough, he threw the man overboard and proceeded on his way. Crusoe took along with him another servant to travel with him and be a guide. After traveling many days, they saw a Portugese ship. Robinson talked with the captain who was willing to buy Xury, the servant for an exchange of money. Crusoe traveled in a ship with several men. While traveling, a storm hit the seas roughly. Crusoe fought the waves by holding on to a rock. When he released he was at shore, Crusoe realized that he was the only man who was saved from the wreckage. Upon checking the contents of the ship, he found a Bible which he began to read. While reading the Bible, he understood how awful his actions had been and decided that he would surrender to the Lord. By surrendering to Christ, he learned to be more thankful for the circumstances around him and for God's provision on his voyages.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;Man's folly can lead him to perform drastic and daring feats. Robinson Crusoe learned that his actions including leaving his family to sail on the seas and forsaking the life he had known were acts of sinfulness, and he desired to repent of them. After receiving the gift of Salvation, Crusoe realized the importance God held in his life. Not only had God saved Him from the wreckage, but He also used a small part of the wreckage for Crusoe to see his need for Salvation. After Crusoe had repented, he needed the ability to grow food and have fresh water to drink. With this need in mind, he decided to put his faith to work and pray for God to teach him how to grow food in necessary time. Before he received the knowledge to plant sufficient amounts of food, Crusoe did understand his helplessness without God by waiting for God to move in that area of his life. After Crusoe was able to plant an adequate amount of food, he explored the island and became friends with a young man who was ignorant of the Bible and of the only true God. While trying to convince this young man of his sinful ways, Crusoe needed God to be able to explain Himself so he could reveal more of God's deity. Even though he experienced a harsh storm and shipwreck, Robinson Crusoe learned of his dependence on God and the amount of faith necessary to believe in Him.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-476146156561947150?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/476146156561947150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/high-seas-of-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/476146156561947150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/476146156561947150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/high-seas-of-life.html' title='The High Seas of Life'/><author><name>Andrew S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561731025273566793</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9vh4whQD7r4/S2HwgdZ-VhI/AAAAAAAAAA4/g0NOxKYLdmA/S220/memememememememe2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-7687000410593161015</id><published>2010-01-15T11:06:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T11:12:43.547-05:00</updated><title type='text'>life of Robinson Crusoe</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Robinson Crusoe is a story about man that is trapped on island for many years and his will to survive against all odds. The ship that he was a passenger on was destroyed just off the cost of some island. He manged to get most supplies that he need off of the ship just before it went down. Crusoe spent much of the on the island alone until some slavers showed up. Robinson decided to scare off the slavers and by doing that he freed one of the slaves. The slave became a good friend of Robinson. Later Robinson names his Friday. At the end of the story Robinson makes it home to England at last.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Robinson Crusoe was very resourceful al that he did to stay alive on the island but he also manged to stay close to God during this time as well. He enjoy the simple that the island gave him because it gave him more time to think about more important things such as his walk with Christ. He did not dwell on the horrible thing that had happened but thanked God that he was alive and well. He did not lose his mind in this time but let God guide him. He helped Friday out when it would have been easy just to walk away. He never gave up on life but always continued to move on.              &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-7687000410593161015?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/7687000410593161015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/life-of-robinson-crusoe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7687000410593161015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7687000410593161015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/life-of-robinson-crusoe.html' title='life of Robinson Crusoe'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04181445270868133176</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-3600944685209142189.post-461859622733121689</id><published>2010-01-15T10:51:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T11:03:12.157-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Robinson, Robinson, Wherefore Art Thou, Robinson?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#800000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman, serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The story of Robinson Crusoe begins as most stories begin, which is in his childhood. Ever since he was a child he wanted to sail but his father tried very hard to discourage him from it. His father warned him that if he became a sailor God would not bless him and that he would have leisure to later reflect on his father's words. Robinson disregards his father's advice and as a young man goes on a sailing trip from northern England to London and on the way become violently seasick during a storm. Later in his life he becomes a sailor and is shipwrecked on an uncharted island and salvages what he can from the ship before it breaks up in a storm one night. He explores a little of the island and decides to build his home on the side of a hill into a slight depression in the hillside. He then fences in his lean-to and begins to make himself comfortable by gathering food, yet he falls into depression and to help get himself out of it he makes a table of good and evils of being on the island. Soon he becomes very sick and during this time realizes that he is being punished by God for neglecting his father's advice. When he recovers from this sickness, which left him very weak, he began to explore more of the island and discovered an abundance of grapes, lemons, oranges, and cocoa. He also found sea turtles, foxes, and goats. After his explorations he attempts to make pottery for cooking and carrying things. He is not very good but was able to make three jars strong enough for use. He then tries his hand at carpentry to make a table and chairs so he can feel civilized. Several years after being on the island he discovers a footprint in the sand that was not his own. This frightened him greatly and it put him in a greater sense of awareness and he learned that cannibals visit the island at times. One time when the cannibals came one of their captives ran from them and Robinson rescued him from the two savages chasing him. The man then swore to become Robinson's slave. Robinson educates the man and teaches him to help with the work and teaches him about God. The man then becomes a Christian that Robinson describes as not being able to find many men of faith like his in England. Years later an English ship, of which the crew has mutinied, stops at the island to maroon the captain and two other men. Robinson helps to win the ship back and the captain returns Robinson and Friday to England after Robinson Crusoe has been shipwrecked for twenty-eight years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;color:#800000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;color:#800000;"&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#800000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman, serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The first example is when Robinson sailed from northern England to London. During this voyage he became sick and reflected “how justly I was overtaken by the judgment of Heaven for my wicked leaving my father's house,and abandoning my duty...”. The second incident is when he is shipwrecked he looked up and thanked God for his (Robinson's) deliverance. Third is when Robinson makes a table of the good and evil of being on the island and in this chart he thanks God for sending the ship near enough to the island so he could swim ashore. The fourth example is when Robinson becomes very ill and during this illness he takes time to read the Bible daily. During this time of sickness he realizes how much God has blessed him and how much God is punishing him for his previous lifestyle. The fifth example is when Robinson leads Friday to Christ and disciples him. The Great Commission tells Christians to do just that and it is most definitely a great proof of Robinson's drawing nearer to God and the change from his previous sinful life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-461859622733121689?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/461859622733121689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/robinson-robinson-wherefore-art-thou.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/461859622733121689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/461859622733121689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/robinson-robinson-wherefore-art-thou.html' title='Robinson, Robinson, Wherefore Art Thou, Robinson?'/><author><name>Stephen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12928873509924132885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-4099957421566725645</id><published>2010-01-15T10:37:00.013-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-18T15:09:14.788-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Man Alone.... or Is He?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;Robinson Crusoe &lt;/i&gt;is a story of a how a man faced with shipwreck on a deserted island adapted to his surroundings and survived. The story begins with an account of how as a young man, Robinson neglected the advice of his father to stay home and study law, but rather ran off to sea one day. He has a fine life as a seaman, until one day his ship wrecks and he is washed upon an unknown shore. There is no other survivor but he, and he has to figure out how to either get off the island, or how to stay and live off the land. He chooses the latter, and straightway takes upon plundering his own ship, which is washed upon shore as well, but only for a short time. After cleaning the ship of all goods, he sets to work building a shelter, obtaining food, and working with his tools to build certain necessities. As time goes by, Robinson eventually gains a comfortable life, and lives on the island with ease. He finds plenty of food, and even finds an abandoned savage, whom he named Friday, and teaches him to be "civilized." This story definitely illustrates man's ability to adapt to certain situations when faced with an ultimatum of death.&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFFFFF;"&gt;-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Not only does Robinson learn to live without all the comforts of old society, he also draws closer to God. At first, when he was freshly shipwrecked, he had a certain thankfulness that he had not been killed like his shipmates, but he also wondered why he had been spared to waste away in an unknown land. He goes on with life, not thinking about God at all, until after some time he is on the island, he gets very ill with a fever. One night he dreams about a fearful man coming from the sky, bright as fire and holding a spear in his hand, saying, "Seeing all these things have not brought thee to repentance, now thou shalt die!" After this, he is very sore in spirit and finally comes to the conclusion that if God made everything and knows everything, then there must be some reason he is on the island. He goes back and starts to read some of the Bibles that were left on the ship that he had saved, and comes to the realization that God can deliver him, not only from his condition on the island, but also from the bondage of sin. he cries out to God for forgiveness, and therein is his conversion. After his conversion, Robinson begins to look at things differently and puts more emphasis on the spiritual part of life, rather than just the physical part. He no longer cared that he was stuck on a deserted island, only that he had the grace of God to sustain him. He counted himself as not being a part of the world, for he had other weighty matters on mind. Also, his devotion to God is shown in his trying to persuade Friday, his savage friend, to accept the Gospel. Many times he pleaded and cried and begged him to understand the truth of what he was saying, for he did not want to see Friday perish for eternity. &lt;i&gt;Robinson Crusoe &lt;/i&gt;shows that although Robinson was far removed from any civilization, he was able to live a normal life. Not only that, but it shows that man &lt;i&gt;can &lt;/i&gt;come to God by nature and his own reasoning and deduction, dispelling a myth that many today believe.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-4099957421566725645?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/4099957421566725645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/man-alone-or-is-he.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4099957421566725645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/4099957421566725645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/man-alone-or-is-he.html' title='A Man Alone.... or Is He?'/><author><name>Cody</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14933284765866187421</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-3600944685209142189.post-8743363813551972042</id><published>2010-01-15T10:37:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-18T15:04:06.320-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Crusoe's Adventures</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;The adventures of an Englishman named Robinson Crusoe tell the story of a man who leaves England on a journey and faces hardhsip as his ship is wrecked because of a terrible storm and then is taken over by a ragged group of pirates. Crusoe meets a boy named Xury and leaves with him on a smal boat to escape the pirates. Later on, Crusoe takes a trip down to Africa to go get slaves from Africa for his plantation. Along the way to Africa, Crusoe is shipwrecked and he is the only survivor of a tragic accident. He manages to get some supplies off of the sinking ship. With the ship gone and only a few supplies, he sets up "camp" near a cave opening on the island. During his enduring days he comes across cannibals that regularly visit the island. Crusoe saves a cannibal that is about to be sacrificed by his own people. He names this man Friday because this was the day of the week that he rescued him. Crusoe and Friday become good friends and Crusoe eventually wins Friday to Christ. Crusoe and Friday are soon able to leave the island after many, many years on the island due to a deal with an English captain and the opportunity created by the captain's mutinying crew.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt; Hardships on a deserted island can be counted many but only will be named five. Crusoe's hardhsips illuminated to him the necessity of reliance upon God not only &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;during his hard times but every time whether good or bad. The devastating disasters in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;his life begin when he first leaves home on a sea voyage that ends in a shipwreck. After&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;this, he is then captured by pirates. After his escape from the pirates he goes to Africa &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;and is shipwrecked again and then left alone to die on a deserted island. He then faces&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;enemies on the island such as cannibals, Spaniards and Englishman. He also faces &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;sickness while on the island. These are few of the many hardships that pushed him &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;and prodded him towards the Lord. Crusoe found solace in the peace of knowing God.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;He found a Bible that had not been destroyed the ship's wreckage. Crusoe never &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;revolted against God for the major trials in his life but during those hardships found &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#006600;"&gt;ways to glorify and praise God and even win people to the Lord.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-8743363813551972042?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/8743363813551972042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/adventures-of-englishman-named-robinson.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/8743363813551972042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/8743363813551972042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/adventures-of-englishman-named-robinson.html' title='Crusoe&apos;s Adventures'/><author><name>Shankopotamus</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07184644390046266396</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-3600944685209142189.post-9192612631965286406</id><published>2010-01-15T10:36:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T11:13:03.539-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Psalm 107</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Defoe's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;Robinson Crusoe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt; described the life of a man who had gone against his father's wishes, reaped the consequences, and found the secret of living a successful life through it all. Young Robinson was a very adventurous fellow, and refused to be content and abide by his father's strong advice. His decision to become a seaman led to his capture, imprisonment, and eventual shipwreck. There were no survivors in the wreck, but his imprisonment in Brazil had taught him enough about the climate and the earth that he was able to survive. He labored for the first year with a mind full of fear and torn with the knowledge that rescue was a very dim possibility. Eventually, as his mind was changed, his work habits did also. He refined his abilities, and was able to make his crude dwelling into a rather pleasant one. He even had many conveniences which the poorer people of London did not. He made his own cheese, butter, raisins, and flour. He had milk, fruits, and water in plenty. He even gained a companion in the last two years of his entrapment. His escape finally came in the form of a mutinied captain who needed help. One cannot help but think that Crusoe returned to his hometown a much wiser man than when he had left it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhLHVqDcjr8/S1CTx8obN2I/AAAAAAAAAB0/znVPf3aXBTM/s1600-h/images.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 113px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhLHVqDcjr8/S1CTx8obN2I/AAAAAAAAAB0/znVPf3aXBTM/s320/images.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427000037280003938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;Crusoe' early life showed an absolute rebellion against his parents' authority which was only exacerbated by the wicked life of a seaman. He fell into the "easy" lifestyle of the world where pleasure is a man's main pursuit, and little stands in the way of attaining it. Even after being held prisoner, his mentality did not improve. His first year on the island was very bleak and filled with fears of the worst kind, for he had not the comfort nor the hope of a Christian. Only when he became sick, and was forcibly given time to think about his situation and purpose in life did he think to turn to God and begin to see out the truth. He searched one of the Bibles that was miraculously saved from the sea as if there were hidden in its pages some great treasure, as indeed there was. He came to know God as his personal Savior, and his life took on a knew purpose and confidence. While his days were not completely devoid of hardship and depression, he learned to trust God completely, for everything that he possessed and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt; belonged to the creator God. He realized that it was actually a blessing that God would single him out on this island and give him the chance to be saved from the ends of his wicked path. Being separated from all of the vice and temptation and desires of the "modern world" was a quality that did not escape his notice, either. Thankfulness, joy, and determination became second nature to him, and he was even given the chance of evangelism near the end of his time on the island. In short, Crusoe was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;given the chance to live a truly &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;sanctified&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt; or set apart life, and took full advantage of it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#993399;"&gt;*~Jennifer Henson~*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-9192612631965286406?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/9192612631965286406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/defoes-robinson-crusoe-described-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/9192612631965286406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/9192612631965286406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/defoes-robinson-crusoe-described-life.html' title='Psalm 107'/><author><name>lizardoyame</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992871601959638230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhLHVqDcjr8/Sp7fx6ZdJYI/AAAAAAAAAAM/QvCgWziEvvY/S220/BJA+Jr.+Sr.+Dress+2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mhLHVqDcjr8/S1CTx8obN2I/AAAAAAAAAB0/znVPf3aXBTM/s72-c/images.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-5629282508442508654</id><published>2010-01-15T10:36:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T11:12:40.735-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Crusoe,Robinson</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Robinson Crusoe is the story about a man who gets stranded on an island, and has to depend on himself to live. He has to depend on God so that he can live he has to be prayerful so God could supply his needs. But what happens in the story is that there are spainairds that have to build a ship, but before they could get back to port some englishmen take over the ship, and then Crusoe and his family start talking to these englishmen and they strike up a deal, and the deal was that the spainairds choose who would stay on the ship or have to go to an island; so Crusoe chose to stay go the island, so the spainards threw him off the ship and he floated and drifted up to the island eventually. That took a lot of courage and faith to nominate yourself to stay on a deserted island by yourself. Now when Crusoe washed up on the shore he got up and he thanked God for saving his life, and he saw three hats, one cap, and two shoes of guys that were also thrown over but did not make it. The only things that he had with him was a knife, a tobacco pipe, and a tobacco box with a little tobacco in it. It was almost night so he had to hurry and find shelter, but in the mean time he found some clean water, he was dying of thirst so he drank some water and then he put a little bit of his tobacco in his mouth to prevent hunger. And he could not believe how abundant the island was, and later he also found a native on the island that showed him a lot about how to survive on the island. And it was not for years later he he was rescued by some englishmen and he was so happy to be rescued, and everyone was happy to see him.&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Cruose had to be dependent on God through everything that he done. He had to be dependent most of all on the food, and water. He also had to be dependent on God to direct his paths on the island so he wouldnt get lost. He was one of the most dependent men and he had real faith in God, and thats why he was helped.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-5629282508442508654?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/5629282508442508654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/crusoerobinson.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5629282508442508654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5629282508442508654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/crusoerobinson.html' title='Crusoe,Robinson'/><author><name>BTHACKER</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02155048422977696390</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-3600944685209142189.post-5248265529090002454</id><published>2010-01-15T10:35:00.013-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T11:13:43.418-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Robinson Crusoe</title><content type='html'>The story of Robinson Crusoe begins with Robinson's father trying to do his best to persuade Robinson to become a lawyer. Robinson definitely does not agree or comply to his father's wishes; he instead decides to become an adventurous sailor. After being shipwrecked on his first voyage, Robinson reaches London and later sails to Guinea. While in Guinea, he is captured and sold as a slave. He eventually escapes from his master and manuevers his way to Brazil. Robinson Crusoe soon embarks on another voyage at sea that soon turns disasterous after his ship hits a sandbar and wrecks. He struggles to land only to find himself to be the only survivor from the wreckage. Although Robinson has a plentiful amount of savaged goods and food, he soon realizes how lonely and miserable the deserted island is. The only thing he can talk to is his parrot named Poll until a man named Friday comes running up the island in need of help. Robinson saves Friday from the cannibals that are chasing him, and immediately begins to teach him English. After Robinson could communicate fairly well with Friday, He began to teach him about the God of the universe, Creation, man's fall to sin, Satan, and the redeeming power of Jesus Christ. Friday accepts Jesus Christ as his Saviour and begins to study the Bible daily with Robinson. Both Friday and Robinson grow as Christians throughout their years on the island. Hope of escaping the island came when an English ship was spotted on the shore. Robinson and Friday armed themselves and set out to rescue the prisoners from the murderous English men that were on the ship after the helpless prisoners agreed to Robinson's terms concerning the ship. After overtaking the English men, Robinson, Friday, and the prisoners made ready the ship for sailing and embarked on their long awaited journey away from the island. Robinson Crusoe reached finally returned to London after being gone for thirty-five long years.&lt;div&gt;            Robinson Crusoe's first mistake was disregarding his father's advice. After being shipwrecked and taken out of the family will, Robinson suffered the consequences of his choices. At the time of his second shipwreck, Robinson did not appreciate the Word of God or the privilege to go to the Lord in prayer. As the feelings of loneliness and desertion set in, Robinson began to realize his need for a intimate relationship with God.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-5248265529090002454?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/5248265529090002454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/robinson-crusoe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5248265529090002454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/5248265529090002454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/robinson-crusoe.html' title='Robinson Crusoe'/><author><name>jamie yow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06920923106536263441</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-3600944685209142189.post-7113189965954307014</id><published>2010-01-15T10:35:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T11:13:35.725-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Crusoe's Journey to Faith and Beyond</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The story of Robinson Crusoe is one man's journey throughout his life from the time of his early adulthood to his late fifties. The story opens as his father tries to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;persuade&lt;/span&gt; Robinson to become a lawyer. Robinson breaks the ties with his family and bard a ship to start over on his own. The ship wrecks and he then returns to England then goes abroad to Guinea where he is sold into slavery. After escaping he lives in Brazil until deciding to return to Guinea again. This is where the main story really begins. The ship is wrecked on a sandbar and all are lost except for Robinson Crusoe and a dog. He, being alone , tries to make himself a safe dwelling place to stay in and wait for any passing ships. This small dwelling begins to grow the longer he is on the island. He makes use of anything and everything he can from the ship and the islands resources. While on the island to consume his time he goes searching the island for people, animals, food, water, and he makes himself work either on his dwelling place or on things he may like to add to it such as a table and chair or other "comforts." he plants corn and other plants and vegetable for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;sustenance&lt;/span&gt; and  breeds goat to eat. He also finds a Spanish shipwreck and takes whatever he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;finds&lt;/span&gt; useful from that, but also the silver in case he ever gets rescued. After many year of not wanting anything to do with God, Robinson reads his Bible and claims every promise he can. He sets aside study and prayer time and a restful Sunday. After many years he finds that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;cannibals&lt;/span&gt;, who often visited the island, brought a slave to kill. Robinson helps him escape and come with him to live. He names the man Friday for the day on which he came and teaches him to speak his language and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;communicate&lt;/span&gt;. He also teaches Friday of the true God, heaven and angels. Fridays salvation became Robinson's one goal other &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;than&lt;/span&gt; growing closer to God himself. He is very &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;successful&lt;/span&gt;, through Gods guidance and help when he notices that Friday is a much better and more loving of God Christian than he himself. After several years together Friday and Robinson are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;finally&lt;/span&gt; rescued by an English ship. They are rescued because they help rescue a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;captain&lt;/span&gt; and shipmates who were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;mutinied&lt;/span&gt; on the island. He finally returns to England thirty-five years after leaving.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;This story is filled with examples not only of God's grace and mercy to a pitiful sinner, but also of that sinner's final realization of God as his Lord and Savior. The first example of Robinson Crusoe's realization of God was in his "list" of &lt;i&gt;Evil and Good&lt;/i&gt;. Though he does not mention God's play in his survival he finds it awesome that only he was spared from death. He also realizes that Whoever saved him from death could also "deliver me from this condition." He realizes many other truths of God's action in the &lt;i&gt;Good&lt;/i&gt; list. Secondly, when he is ill he prays which means he had to have a realization the God was there and could hear him. Thirdly, when he started to read the bible and claim truths he read it showed that he truly believed that God would keep them. And he not only read and prayed he saw the need of it in his every day life so he started including a prayer and study time. Fourthly, when he rescued Friday he had one desire which was to see him saved and growing in the Lord. Fifthly, that he was greatly encouraging and willing to continue on the island for as long as God would have him there. That shows how much he had grown closer to God from when he left his family as a young man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-7113189965954307014?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/7113189965954307014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/crusoes-journey-to-faith-and-beyond.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7113189965954307014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/7113189965954307014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/crusoes-journey-to-faith-and-beyond.html' title='Crusoe&apos;s Journey to Faith and Beyond'/><author><name>Cathy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09666659226892028800</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QDvLf6kct8s/SqAXK7-nyvI/AAAAAAAAABE/YJsrtUfdZZs/S220/PICT4885.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600944685209142189.post-3095658124252186531</id><published>2010-01-15T10:35:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T11:05:41.027-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Providence in the Life of Robinson Crusoe</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;While on a voyage from Brazil to Guinea, the ship that Robinson Crusoe was on entered into a horrible storm and wrecked near a deserted island.  Everyone except for Robinson Crusoe perished.  Crusoe made his way to the island and spent a very restless night because he feared that the island was inhabited by savage men and beasts.  Robinson Crusoe was able to return back to the beached ship and retrieve everything a person would need to live on a deserted island.  He found guns and ammunition, clothes, food, some tools, but most importantly a Bible.  After several years of inhabiting the island, Robinson Crusoe began to live a very good life.  He had all of the food that he needed because he tamed wild goats that lived on the island.  He also discovered grapes, corn, an tortoises that helped to balance his diet.  The one thing that he did lack was a fellow human being to help him and to converse with him.  However, this need was satisfied when a group of cannibals brought one of their victims to Crusoe's island. Crusoe rescued this poor fellow and named him Friday because that was the day that he rescued him.  Crusoe lived on his island for over thirty years before he was able to return back to England.     &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000099;"&gt;Robinson Crusoe's life is the life of a man that was truly blessed by God. Robinson Crusoe was the only man on board the ship that lived after the ship was beached and later destroyed.  Robinson realized that it was God that spared his life, and this realization caused him to grow closer to god through other circumstances.  When Robinson became seriously ill after being on the island for only a few weeks, he had to rely on God to save his life again because there was no one else to help him.  God showed his Providential protection of Robinson Crusoe by providing food for him to eat in the form of goats, grapes, and other goods. God also allowed Robinson to salvage a Bible from the ship which he read religiously to learn more about the God that had blessed him so much. God also provided a friend for Robinson Crusoe in the form of Friday. This was a huge blessing for him because he had not seen or heard another human being since the shipwreck. The final blessing that God gave to Robinson Crusoe was seen as Robinson was able to leave the island and go back home to London.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3600944685209142189-3095658124252186531?l=theocssen10rs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/feeds/3095658124252186531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/providence-in-life-of-robinson-crusoe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3095658124252186531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3600944685209142189/posts/default/3095658124252186531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theocssen10rs.blogspot.com/2010/01/providence-in-life-of-robinson-crusoe.html' title='Providence in the Life of Robinson Crusoe'/><author><name>Carl Horton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04868599319603173067</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>
