<?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-8102906448964150597</id><updated>2012-01-22T12:50:06.569-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Frannie Pak.</title><subtitle type='html'>We the human race are all the same. A beat away. Living at different pitches and harmonizing in every aspect.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>478</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-7712953166071466227</id><published>2012-01-22T12:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T12:43:37.507-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh David...</title><content type='html'>I have the cutest little brother..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Frannie Pak&lt;/b&gt;: hey! you!...you drive me crazy kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;David&lt;/b&gt;: Huh? I am David...arent you? I mean..arent me?..I mean...ughh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOL&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-7712953166071466227?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/7712953166071466227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2012/01/oh-david.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/7712953166071466227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/7712953166071466227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2012/01/oh-david.html' title='Oh David...'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-2626427496563737146</id><published>2012-01-20T05:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T12:50:06.581-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Frances Welhous</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left;"&gt;When I sat with my grandmother one day she said to me&lt;i&gt; "I need to get out of the hole. I feel like a prisoner" &lt;/i&gt;She had thought that the bed was sinking in, but really she was just so weak and she had been laying down for days with out being able to get up.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left;"&gt;My grandmother passed away Friday January 20, 2012 at 5:45 am.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left;"&gt;As of now, it is so easy to look at my grandmother and see, she is weak. She does not have the strength that she once had, she lifts her hands for only a moment because it is suddenly too heavy. It takes her a while to realize we are in the room, and she says "I can feel my heart racing..." But when I look at my grandma I see a strength so rare that when she lifts her head to meet my eyes they are eyes that tell a story...And although at first she is unaware of our presence, it is quickly found when we give her our gentle kisses and we hold her hand. Her strong hands that say she is a fighter, because that is what she is. A Fighter. I cannot look at her and say shes weak, when she is one of the strongest women I have ever met.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left;"&gt;I am so happy I had the opportunity to know such a strong woman and to have spent this past month living with her, watching episodes of Cupcake Wars and Soap Operas, paint nails with her, and learn new dishes to cook.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EjJzJiidN7I/Txx2ZEqQYlI/AAAAAAAACPY/u-5eVjYv6MQ/s1600/405455_353285594682484_100000031388659_1382867_162914730_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EjJzJiidN7I/Txx2ZEqQYlI/AAAAAAAACPY/u-5eVjYv6MQ/s320/405455_353285594682484_100000031388659_1382867_162914730_n.jpg" width="255" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-2626427496563737146?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/2626427496563737146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2012/01/in-hole.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/2626427496563737146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/2626427496563737146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2012/01/in-hole.html' title='Frances Welhous'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EjJzJiidN7I/Txx2ZEqQYlI/AAAAAAAACPY/u-5eVjYv6MQ/s72-c/405455_353285594682484_100000031388659_1382867_162914730_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-3966949880378753205</id><published>2012-01-03T15:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T15:03:14.447-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mambo Jambo</title><content type='html'>I have been trying to figure out what to write on this blog for a while now. I still&amp;nbsp;don't&amp;nbsp;really know how or where to begin. I am feeling &amp;nbsp;a sense of distance between myself and the person I am presenting myself as. On one hand I am doing well. I am&amp;nbsp;successful&amp;nbsp;in school, I am helping take care of my grandma, I am so happy to have certain opportunities, and I have an amazing group of people&amp;nbsp;surrounding&amp;nbsp;me in my life. But then on the other hand I can be so stressed, it pains me to see my grandma with this cancer. People are supposed to see their elders grow older, but not this way. This is the third person in my family that is going through this over the past two years. I tend to brush away the emotions I feel in the moment, because I want to appear strong, but in the end it becomes me yelling at Luke for something so small, crying at the most random of times, snapping at my sister or my mom. I&amp;nbsp;don't&amp;nbsp;really know how to balance it all. I cant wait till Christina comes back because of all people I know shell understand. We are almost the same person. We deal with things and see matters in a very similar way. And all I need is too pour it all out. Rant for about ten minutes, even if all I gt is a head&amp;nbsp;nod, because I know shell get it. And&amp;nbsp;that's&amp;nbsp;the beauty of our friendship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am mad at my brother, I&amp;nbsp;don't&amp;nbsp;understand&amp;nbsp;his views most of the time. I&amp;nbsp;don't&amp;nbsp;know why he still&amp;nbsp;hasn't&amp;nbsp;spoken with my grandma, and she has been here a&amp;nbsp;week. I&amp;nbsp;don't&amp;nbsp;understand why he talks under his breathe about what he&amp;nbsp;doesn't&amp;nbsp;understand, why he judges people he&amp;nbsp;doesn't&amp;nbsp;know, why he&amp;nbsp;doesn't&amp;nbsp;understand why I am not cleaning up the kitchen when I am helping my mom give my grandma her meds, why he has a problem getting&amp;nbsp;dish washing&amp;nbsp;liquid from the store because were all too busy to go out. I&amp;nbsp;don't&amp;nbsp;understand why he cant see the pain in my dads eyes when he talks to him and see how much he has sacrificed. I&amp;nbsp;don't&amp;nbsp;get why he cant see how sad my grandmas eyes look when he walks past her without a word. Why&amp;nbsp;doesn't&amp;nbsp;he see how much my mom&amp;nbsp;defends&amp;nbsp;him because she is so scared of loosing him. I&amp;nbsp;don't&amp;nbsp;understand what I did wrong...and why he dislikes me so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am&amp;nbsp;aggravated&amp;nbsp;with myself lately because I cant get the past out of my head. I am all or nothing always, which I guess is why I&amp;nbsp;don't&amp;nbsp;understand the people who have grey areas of their life. Even though we are all grey&amp;nbsp;aren't&amp;nbsp;we? Life is grey...not black and white. I love Luke so much...why do I think too much?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am getting close to the part of my life where I am going to be reaching full independence...if&amp;nbsp;that's&amp;nbsp;what you want to call it. It is an exciting...but very scary part of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let us&amp;nbsp;pray.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-3966949880378753205?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/3966949880378753205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2012/01/mambo-jambo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3966949880378753205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3966949880378753205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2012/01/mambo-jambo.html' title='Mambo Jambo'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-7910989263472509662</id><published>2011-12-26T08:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-26T08:12:26.274-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How Its Been</title><content type='html'>So time has been&amp;nbsp;increasingly&amp;nbsp;unavailable lately.&lt;br /&gt;The semester ended! I finished with a 3.53 average.&lt;br /&gt;I passed my fieldwork Jury.&lt;br /&gt;My grandma is going to be living with us while she has her chemo treatments.&lt;br /&gt;Rhianna is staying with us as well!! Excited to see her!&lt;br /&gt;And then Christina is staying with me for a week when she gets back from Florida!&lt;br /&gt;I just need to say that Christina is one of the strongest people I know and lately, even more so! A lot of who she is as a person is so&amp;nbsp;inspiring&amp;nbsp;and I&amp;nbsp;don't&amp;nbsp;think shell ever know how much she has impacted peoples lives, especially mine.&lt;br /&gt;Everything is kind of just working as of now. Things are crazy, money is tight, but somehow we are still surviving.&lt;br /&gt;As for Luke, he is my number one fan, the love of my life, and my future. Its amazing how just looking in his eyes feels like home and how beautiful our relationship is and how its still growing. I love him!&lt;br /&gt;I have&amp;nbsp;amazing&amp;nbsp;friends and family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-7910989263472509662?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/7910989263472509662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/12/how-its-been.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/7910989263472509662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/7910989263472509662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/12/how-its-been.html' title='How Its Been'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-5964323850619613726</id><published>2011-12-18T20:19:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-18T20:19:24.923-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Womp</title><content type='html'>So times have been hectic, but I will post a new blog soon!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-5964323850619613726?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/5964323850619613726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/12/womp.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5964323850619613726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5964323850619613726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/12/womp.html' title='Womp'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-8687669707541468130</id><published>2011-11-18T17:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-18T17:45:40.935-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Home</title><content type='html'>Monday through Thursday I am in and out of Rockville Center from out east.&amp;nbsp;During&amp;nbsp;the week it seems like a drag to commute, but ill tell you, it is so beautiful when Friday evening I am driving home and I know tomorrow I am going to wake up to beautiful sunshine in a beautiful area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my house in the Fall the best I think. There is so much space, the grass seems greener, the food my mom is cooking so early in the day on Sundays.I wake up, get tea, Ill work on some homework, take my sister to horseback riding, and live in slippers. Sometimes my family gets way to loud, we yell at each other, but its ok because life is too short. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so fortunate to get the best of both worlds. I feel challenged in my studies and where I plan on taking my career, but I feel so confident that its where I am supposed to be. I feel fortunate to have a roof over my head and a family that cares so much about me. There is so much to be thankful for.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-8687669707541468130?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/8687669707541468130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/11/home.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/8687669707541468130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/8687669707541468130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/11/home.html' title='Home'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-1105421870848045917</id><published>2011-11-12T06:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-12T06:25:32.687-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Womp.</title><content type='html'>My body has been horrible all week&lt;br /&gt;I have pains in my pelvis&lt;br /&gt;some other things I wont post on here&lt;br /&gt;Nausea&lt;br /&gt;achy bones&lt;br /&gt;another&amp;nbsp;symptom&amp;nbsp;I wont put on here.&lt;br /&gt;Its just horrible&lt;br /&gt;and I feel depressed, weak,&lt;br /&gt;and alone through it all..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On top of it all my grandma is in the hospital sick with cancer&lt;br /&gt;along with a good friend of my&amp;nbsp;family's&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prayers please!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-1105421870848045917?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/1105421870848045917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/11/womp.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1105421870848045917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1105421870848045917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/11/womp.html' title='Womp.'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-6588477666914289214</id><published>2011-11-04T18:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-04T18:43:13.678-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Free</title><content type='html'>I feel like times are moving so fast&lt;br /&gt;I am not sure I know how to handle it&lt;br /&gt;I need to be free!&lt;br /&gt;I am too independent and I am afraid that my whole life I'll just want to run and be this free spirit...that I'll miss whats right here..right now...&lt;br /&gt;I dont know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont know if I ever will&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-6588477666914289214?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/6588477666914289214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/11/free.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/6588477666914289214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/6588477666914289214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/11/free.html' title='Free'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-3870834684371752930</id><published>2011-11-04T18:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-04T18:38:02.062-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So much, On My Mind</title><content type='html'>so I am moving faster with my curriculum!&lt;br /&gt;I am going to graduate next spring yay!&lt;br /&gt;its about time haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I am going to try and blog more&lt;br /&gt;times have been so busy lately, but times are good :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new guitar song I am learning is Georgia on my Mind&lt;br /&gt;I cry, because its so beautiful&lt;br /&gt;&amp;lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-3870834684371752930?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/3870834684371752930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/11/so-i-am-moving-faster-with-my.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3870834684371752930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3870834684371752930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/11/so-i-am-moving-faster-with-my.html' title='So much, On My Mind'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-6748290604244711195</id><published>2011-10-24T17:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-24T17:01:06.419-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rugby, House Hunting, and the Love of my Life</title><content type='html'>So&amp;nbsp;Luke&amp;nbsp;and I&amp;nbsp;joined&amp;nbsp;rugby!&lt;br /&gt;and despite my first instinct, I really like it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its kind of cool because this is the first thing that Luke and i have both joined together (at&amp;nbsp;separate&amp;nbsp;schools, but still)&amp;nbsp;that's&amp;nbsp;new. When we met we were both into music, we had similar interests. But we liked those things before we knew each other. This is something new that we are both just kind of jumping into..and its awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And today I looked at a house for me and some friends to move into, it was not what I expected. The carpet was gross, the heating was ancient, the place was not insulated properly, and some of the ceiling&amp;nbsp;tiles&amp;nbsp;were a mess. Not to mention there was no real driveway and the landlord was not that nice either. He knew he was charging way to much money for the crap place that it was. its a shame too because from the outside it looked so cute! But I have to thank my friends that came with me! They were so awesome in helping me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, tonight I am staying at&amp;nbsp;Luke's&amp;nbsp;and I am so excited because this means that tomorrow we can wake up and eat breakfast together! I love him, I feel so safe with him around and so at home with him. Its funny, because as I was in the car on my way to school I was thinking...We are&amp;nbsp;Soul mates. When there were other people that I was interested in I used my eyes. I saw what I wanted and predicted how it was going to end up. But with Luke I followed my heart. And it lead me to a beautiful person and a beautiful life so far!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-6748290604244711195?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/6748290604244711195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/10/rugby-house-hunting-and-love-of-my-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/6748290604244711195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/6748290604244711195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/10/rugby-house-hunting-and-love-of-my-life.html' title='Rugby, House Hunting, and the Love of my Life'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-6310233295771606818</id><published>2011-10-19T17:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-19T17:54:33.957-07:00</updated><title type='text'>As of Now</title><content type='html'>Been a while since I have blogged.&lt;div&gt;I am currently&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;in LOVE with Luke&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;on the Rugby team at school!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;going crazy over midterms&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;listening to way too much country music, but I love it!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;excited for the new episode of Psych about to come on&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;and just living life&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh! and a special shout out to my family and friends! I am so blessed!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-6310233295771606818?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/6310233295771606818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/10/as-of-now.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/6310233295771606818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/6310233295771606818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/10/as-of-now.html' title='As of Now'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-1210849221680828325</id><published>2011-10-02T12:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-02T12:12:36.935-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beauty Sleep</title><content type='html'>I think I have finally caught up on sleep!&lt;br /&gt;Win!&lt;br /&gt;Sleep really does cure a mood and believe it or not I am ready to go to work...hah how about that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing though, I miss Luke&lt;br /&gt;We&amp;nbsp;haven't&amp;nbsp;had time by ourselves to just chill, watch a movie, have tea, or cappuccinos, cook together, or anything like that. :( I miss it&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-1210849221680828325?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/1210849221680828325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/10/beauty-sleep.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1210849221680828325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1210849221680828325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/10/beauty-sleep.html' title='Beauty Sleep'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-9080660289898037731</id><published>2011-09-27T03:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-27T03:09:04.485-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chipmunks</title><content type='html'>Luke is the cutest and most adorable thing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were hanging out and he says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"You know..I saved a squirrel from a haw once...no its true...oh and I want a chipmunk"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then he later posts as his status:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"I want a&amp;nbsp;chipmunk&amp;nbsp;so badly lol"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ofcourse then Christina tells his that her brother rescued one and they have it at her house. So its really only a matter of time before Luke will either kidnap it or start living at her house haha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-9080660289898037731?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/9080660289898037731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/09/chipmunks.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/9080660289898037731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/9080660289898037731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/09/chipmunks.html' title='Chipmunks'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-2344216324492351198</id><published>2011-09-27T03:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-27T03:05:47.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations</title><content type='html'>My first observations were this past&amp;nbsp;Friday.&lt;br /&gt;I LOVED IT!&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I am doing the right and most perfect thing by doing music therapy and helping such a wide range of people with different&amp;nbsp;disabilities. This one little girl came and sat next to me and all she wanted to do the whole time was sit on my lap. She ignored her aids and everyone and at one point, she grabbed my arm and wrapped&amp;nbsp;her&amp;nbsp;arm around it, and the she leaned her head on my shoulder. It was so beautiful. I mean, there was also the polar opposite. There was this one kid who would not stop screaming and he threw his shaker and it just&amp;nbsp;whizzed&amp;nbsp;past my arm. Hows that for good luck huh?&lt;br /&gt;Sunday my mom asked me how everything went and I started to cry. It was brief and probably because of a mixture of things from the weekend...but I am just praying that I stay strong. For school, for my family, Luke, for everything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-2344216324492351198?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/2344216324492351198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/09/observations.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/2344216324492351198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/2344216324492351198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/09/observations.html' title='Observations'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-1648860616001312020</id><published>2011-08-29T20:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-29T20:45:49.530-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sibling Connection</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Yesterday my brother said something that reminded him so much of me. &lt;br /&gt;I was always the philisophical child wondering why the sky is blue and the grass green.&lt;br /&gt;I still am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday my brother was in the kitchen and he said to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;"Isnt it funny how no matter what we are always moving?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;We cant just sit still or physically not move ever. Because even now I am breathing."&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is Nine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-1648860616001312020?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/1648860616001312020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/08/sibling-connection.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1648860616001312020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1648860616001312020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/08/sibling-connection.html' title='Sibling Connection'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-4449687238449148938</id><published>2011-08-29T20:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-29T20:44:01.369-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom Yells Because I Put the Laundry Basket in the Wrong Room</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"&gt;So many people know the true meaning of suffering. We live with such luxuries yet somehow people still complain about the smallest thing, a small chore that wasnt done properly, dropping a fork, not understanding why their kids or families arent perfect. No one is perfect. Why cant people just love and be thankful!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-4449687238449148938?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/4449687238449148938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/08/mom-yells-because-i-put-laundry-basket.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4449687238449148938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4449687238449148938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/08/mom-yells-because-i-put-laundry-basket.html' title='Mom Yells Because I Put the Laundry Basket in the Wrong Room'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-5163501559271731239</id><published>2011-08-26T17:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-26T17:03:17.699-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Orientation</title><content type='html'>I had my first&amp;nbsp;college&amp;nbsp;Orientation yesterday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never went all 3 of my college years, but seeing as for this school its mandatory I went.&amp;nbsp;Of course&amp;nbsp;the moment i get into the auditorium i spill my coffee everywhere haha. And I am so happy that I did. It reignited and excitement inside of me, and excitement for my future...my career! We got free stuff, met some new people, it was great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got my new books in the mail and I feel so nerdy because I already started reading them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-5163501559271731239?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/5163501559271731239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/08/orientation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5163501559271731239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5163501559271731239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/08/orientation.html' title='Orientation'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-4803456696020961913</id><published>2011-08-23T11:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T11:45:28.959-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Earthquake</title><content type='html'>Ok so today Virginia experienced an earthquake that people felt today here in New York. The crazy thing is, right before it happened my boss, co-worker and I were talking about bad weather and I mentioned that I could never stand an earthquake, that they freak me out too much. Then this one girl approached my window and was looking for her acting class, so I went to walk her over to the studio. When i came back my co-workers were like "Did you feel the shaking?" I didnt feel anything.&lt;br /&gt;Then I logged onto facebook and saw everyones status's on the Earthquake in Virginia.&lt;br /&gt;how weird?!! Things like that always seem to happen. Like I have a sense about the future or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called my mom, because she, my dad, little brother and sister were in Virginia the past weekend. They were coming back today, and at the time were in Maryland on their way back. They didnt feel anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crazy times.&lt;br /&gt;My older brother&amp;nbsp;is in San Francisco, i think he wishes he didnt miss out LOL&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-4803456696020961913?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/4803456696020961913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/08/earthquake.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4803456696020961913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4803456696020961913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/08/earthquake.html' title='Earthquake'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-5898845633269693522</id><published>2011-08-10T09:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-10T09:44:17.482-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Songe D'ete Music Festival in Quebec, Canada</title><content type='html'>So I just spent a week in the rural part of Quebec. It was so awesome I dont even know where to begin or how to describe the beauty of the people or the passion of the music. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The people there are so simple. They hang their clothes on clothes lines, everything looks like a home, even the stores.The towns are tiny and the people are family. I made such connections with the people in my classes to the people in the town. When this festival is in process I feel like it just lights up the town. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first day, Christina and I got up really early in the morning and started driving. We stopped at the Putney Diner in Vermont and had the best breakfast ever! We looked at the special menu and for 7.99 we got eggs and vegtables, along with fresh fruit! yummmmyyyyy!! We rejeuvinated and then carried on. Once we crossed over the border we blasted Celine Dion! We arrived in her homeland! We arrived at 12/12:30 after traveling for about ten hours. Once we go there we went to 2 concerts and then attended the dinner afterwards....we were literally wake for 24 hours at least! We were dead the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The beginning stages of the week,&amp;nbsp;I had weird mixed feelings about the whole thing. I dont think I realized how much I would be performing. Everyone there was for either education and performing and I am going for Music Therapy. But throughout the week it didnt even matter. I just loved the music and love the connection between humans and the music. It was amazing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was able to practice my French, which was a challenge and a gift at the same time. At first it was hard remembering verbs and correct phrasing, but&amp;nbsp; by the end of the week it was so great to be able to communicate with a different group of people. I think the best moment that that had happened was when we were all out to eat, it was Saturday night, we had just finished out last concert. I was figuring out my bill and talking to my new friend Ross! when all of a sudden he wasnt there anymore. I heard yelling in the back and then he ran out and go Christina. The whole time we were up there all Christina wanted to do was speak Italian. And after Ross pulled her in, he introduced her to the owner and they just started speaking Italian together. I dont really know what they were saying ahhaah but theyw ere discussing where they came from in Italy and he was kissing all our cheeks. Then he proceeded to give us Limoncello shots.We went back and Ross and I were dancing to&amp;nbsp;his Iphone&amp;nbsp;in the ktichen.&amp;nbsp;Hands down best night ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We traveled into Quebec city that Thursday and it was so beautiful. We traveled into old Quebec also, which was even more beautiful. The roads were crazy though! Christina was driving, and at one point we traveled up this road that we didnt know was a one way and we got stuck.Finally someone kindly told us what to do. When we finally&amp;nbsp;found the parking garage we took our ticket and pressed the button for the gate to open. But it never did. So Christina hit the help button and asked for English. He would help by saying two words and then disappearing. pretty soon cars were all lined up and curious about why this New York car was not moving. Eventually the man came out and fixed the machine.A wave of relief came over us, we were out of the crazy streets and finally parked. We read a sign that said it was a certain amount per minute, so by the end of the night we thought we were going to be paying like 60 bucks. So we laughed at the end of the night when it was 6 dollars! haha. The city was great though, we planked on random things. The best was when Georgia planked in front of a band playing on the street. On the top of the buldings there were patches of grass that people sat on and had picnics.So Gerogia and I climbed up and stood on top of the buidling. It was so gorgeous! The view was breathtaking.We ate dinner, say a circus performer, and ate gelato. Awesome night as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week inspried me so much musically and spiritually. I feel as though Ib have been inspired to the point where I can inspire others. New techniques, new outlook, everything is amazing. I met amazing people that I am still trying to keep in touch with. I feel like Christina and I grew closer, she is going to sing in operas one day, I know it. Her passion for it is too strong. I know for a fact the both of us are going to be extremely sucessful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday was our last day...Most of the people were going to be leaving Sunday night but a couple of us were staying and leaving Monday morning. When I got up Sunday I went for a hike with my friend Andrew and Georgia. It was great and definitly refreshing. When we finished we all laid on the granite thatw as placed at this cliff that overlooked the mountains and the land. We laid on it and meditated. I woke up feeling like I could take on the world. I found my center. I went to the gift shop they had and bought a necklace, with smooth green stone. I have been wearing it everday as a reminder of my center. Peace, musicality,&amp;nbsp;and spirituality. After the concert Christina and I stood in the rain talking for like 20 min. We were being cleansed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ride home was longer but still good. I think we just wanted to get home. We ended up blasting Celine Dion in the car again..."Its all coming back to me". Christina, Andrew, Vinny, Georgia and I all made that the trip theme song. We would blast it in the car all the time up in Quebec. So Chrstina and I did it one last time! Even though there will def be other times!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!! good times!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I probably still missed moments but I have to break haha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-5898845633269693522?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/5898845633269693522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/08/songe-dete-music-festival-in-quebec.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5898845633269693522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5898845633269693522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/08/songe-dete-music-festival-in-quebec.html' title='The Songe D&apos;ete Music Festival in Quebec, Canada'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-5331704907333625707</id><published>2011-07-11T08:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T08:52:48.591-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Duck..WAH</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Hello, Gateway Playhouse, how may I help you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron&lt;/strong&gt;: Hi can you speak up honey I cant hear you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Sure, how can I help you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron:&lt;/strong&gt; Well, I would like to purchased two tickets to Sunset Blvd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Ok what day would you like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron:&lt;/strong&gt; Well i want 3rd or 4th row center.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Ok. Well it Runs through the entire month of August, if you give me a date then I can see where the seast will be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron:&lt;/strong&gt; Well I dont really have a preference on the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Ok, did you prefer weekends, nights, mattinees?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron:&lt;/strong&gt; Well are the tickets more expensive on the weekend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt;: Yes the price is 57 for the weekend and 53 for the week night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron:&lt;/strong&gt; Ok, well then during the week then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Ok, so how about I browse through the days and I'll see where I can find the best seats and you tell me if you can make the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron:&lt;/strong&gt; So your hanging up? Do I have to call back?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt;: No, it will take 2 seconds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron:&lt;/strong&gt; Ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; On August 16th I have 5th row center, Its a Tuesday night at 8pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron:&lt;/strong&gt; Oh that sounds nice! Thats what row again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; 5th row&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron:&lt;/strong&gt; And whats the date?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; August 16th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron:&lt;/strong&gt; Ok well I think I do something on Tuesday nigths..how about we look at another day...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Sure&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YUP&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-5331704907333625707?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/5331704907333625707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/07/another-duckwah.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5331704907333625707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5331704907333625707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/07/another-duckwah.html' title='Another Duck..WAH'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-4812058088101504354</id><published>2011-07-05T12:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-05T12:29:44.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Today at Work</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Patron:&lt;/strong&gt; What shows do you have playing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Wekll right now Legally Blonde, then after that we have Spamalot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron:&lt;/strong&gt; Camalot?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt;No Spamalot..S-P-A---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron:&lt;/strong&gt; Ok so all you have is legally blonde and Stamalot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Yes well its Spamalot with an S as in Sam and P as in Peter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron:&lt;/strong&gt; Ok I see...Scamalot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Yup.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-4812058088101504354?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/4812058088101504354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/07/today-at-work.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4812058088101504354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4812058088101504354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/07/today-at-work.html' title='Today at Work'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-5094558855063754393</id><published>2011-07-02T09:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-02T09:24:07.434-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Growing Pains</title><content type='html'>I dont believe growing pains ever end. People put so much emphasis on the teenage years, but people dont think bout their 30's, 40's, 50's etc...until they are going through it. Most people that I know who are that age, are not happy.And if I tell my parents for example, their response is "you dont understand and you wont till you go through it.", "I am only 50 and I dont know anything.", so many of my opinions get diminished because I am 21 and I "dont know anything," But I work 3 jobs, and go to school. I am trying to g out there and experience so many things. Something I have done most people wouldnt do till they are 30. I have thoughts and opinions. But they will always be wrong to the close minded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think when people reach older ages, the problem is they dont have anyone to keep them in check anymore. My parents can get mad or say things and get away with it because they have no one to tell them they are wrong. But if someone else dare do something or state an opinion that is different than theirs its wrong and they cant listen. They can only look at you like you are&amp;nbsp;naive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my parents so much and I will never leave them. i just know, how much I am going to differently when my life is truely my own and I dont need to rely on them for a roof over my head or loans for school. My life is going to be sucessful, I am going to have a career, I am not going to argue in front of my kids with my husband. I wont talk about my husband behind his back, we are going to have a true partnership, I dont want my kids to worry about money the way that I do now, I want them to work hard but never stress the way I do, I dont want them to feel guilty about stating opinions, I dont want them to feel like they are a bothering me when they want to ask me something, and I dont want to be depressed around them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of all I am going to be HAPPY! I pray that God allows my parents to realize that the little things dont matter. That they can be happy and that these growing pains are a part of life and to truly accept them. Not to just say they do and then complain, but to say..God has everything under control and I just need to believe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-5094558855063754393?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/5094558855063754393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/07/growing-pains.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5094558855063754393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5094558855063754393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/07/growing-pains.html' title='Growing Pains'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-5603232946480956173</id><published>2011-06-27T09:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-27T09:23:49.198-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cici and Luke</title><content type='html'>When I think back to the time we first met, it all seems so different now.&lt;br /&gt;When I first met you, you were&lt;br /&gt;Listening to a lot of John Mayer&lt;br /&gt;Played the drums more than the guitar&lt;br /&gt;Your hair was shorter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noticed the way your walk reminded me of a cartoon&lt;br /&gt;You were so dorky&lt;br /&gt;I realized how blue your eyes were&lt;br /&gt;And how red your beard was&lt;br /&gt;You wore hats all the time&lt;br /&gt;Along with the contacts that made your eyes so red!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the time I was done with music&lt;br /&gt;But you were so free with it&lt;br /&gt;It almost melted my fear away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was that moment when we were in the basement with your friends&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting in the fold out chair and you were playing the drums&lt;br /&gt;And in that moment we linked eyes for a moment&lt;br /&gt;And at the time it wasnt a romantic feeling&lt;br /&gt;I dont really know what you were feeling or thinking&lt;br /&gt;And I dont think I did either, actually.&lt;br /&gt;I think I just knew that it felt good. Whatever it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The beginning of the summer we met, I left CW Post.&lt;br /&gt;I had nothing to hold onto and didnt really know what to expect in the future&lt;br /&gt;My friend Amanda had a lot of faith, so much that she didnt fear alot. Not even death. She told me she trusts Gods plan.&lt;br /&gt;For some reason that always stuck with me.&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;had reached that point very briefly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now-a-days,&amp;nbsp;I fear the dark again.&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;fear dying . Mostly because&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I fear leaving you.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im working on my&amp;nbsp;faith still every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember people asking us if we were dating&lt;br /&gt;I got so sick of saying we were just friends!&lt;br /&gt;Bcause we were then right? Just friends.&lt;br /&gt;But we were the fools, everyone knew but us.&lt;br /&gt;I remember in particular the time my dad said:&lt;br /&gt;"So, when the wedding?"&lt;br /&gt;We just giggled, like two idiots.&lt;br /&gt;Hahahahah....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember my boss letting me leave early because I wanted to tell you how much I cared about you.&lt;br /&gt;The i got to your house,&amp;nbsp;I told you after like 10 minutes of stuttering and you were like "Ok."&lt;br /&gt;Ok? What did that mean?&lt;br /&gt;Then we went back and forth for days saying:&lt;br /&gt;"Well what do you mean?" "No, what do you mean?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the beginning I liked you and I didnt have exact reasons as to why.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it was the cute way you fumbled over your words in your little red truck.&lt;br /&gt;Or the giggle you have when you want to laugh really hard.&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe its the way you tilt your glasses down and give me the eye when you look at me like I am crazy.&lt;br /&gt;The way you play trumpet and drums.&lt;br /&gt;I loved when you said I was carefree and independant and that you liked it.&lt;br /&gt;Your eyes&lt;br /&gt;Your freckles!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those things still and I feel always will make me smile.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes a smile isnt even enough.&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;love you!&lt;br /&gt;And dont get me wrong sometimes you drive me insane!!&lt;br /&gt;But I love you for so much more!&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;love you for your heart and for how much you give of yourself even though half the time you are so unsure!&lt;br /&gt;I love everything!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_RcK-Utz5D8/TgisdlTSn8I/AAAAAAAACJE/8XbFzJQn4Hk/s1600/262266_10150671774215063_591815062_19060471_7109917_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_RcK-Utz5D8/TgisdlTSn8I/AAAAAAAACJE/8XbFzJQn4Hk/s320/262266_10150671774215063_591815062_19060471_7109917_n.jpg" width="178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Francesca and Luke&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;u&gt;Novemeber 10, 2009&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-5603232946480956173?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/5603232946480956173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/cici-and-luke.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5603232946480956173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5603232946480956173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/cici-and-luke.html' title='Cici and Luke'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_RcK-Utz5D8/TgisdlTSn8I/AAAAAAAACJE/8XbFzJQn4Hk/s72-c/262266_10150671774215063_591815062_19060471_7109917_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-247098995110458948</id><published>2011-06-24T05:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-24T05:40:17.337-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No Money...More Problems</title><content type='html'>My mom asked me today why my brother Jonathan( age 22) and I ( age 21) dont have any money. The whole problem is we are college students who work minimum wage jobs, we need to put money into savings so we can actually pay student loans back, pay for the food we need to eat, pay for car insurance, gas, etc. While being a full time student. And since most minimum wage jobs are part time I am forced to have 3 jobs. People my age are constantly getting crap about how we need to save our money, yet we are still expected to pay for bills people who have real jobs cant even afford. If we have to ask for money then we get the whole "you need to manage your money speech." Meanwhile I&amp;nbsp;absolutely&amp;nbsp;manage my money correctly. But you need to make enough money to be able to pay for everything, which we dont have. On top of that, we arent even given complete control over our lives because most of us still live at home. We are given&amp;nbsp;curfews&amp;nbsp;and if we have opinions they are wrong.&lt;br /&gt;Then most of my spare time goes to watching my little brother and sister. My sister whos hormones make her out to be this leech who latches on and insists on trying to murder you. My little brother is nine...need I explain more? And watching family members..which I have no problem doing because its family. But I hate getting crap when I actually do decide to go out with friends and then say "your never home, spend time with your family." Believe it or not I do. Most of time is consumed with work.&lt;br /&gt;I think a lot of people...scratch that. I think society needs a wake up call!!&lt;br /&gt;NO ONE CAN AFFORD ANYTHING!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-247098995110458948?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/247098995110458948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/no-moneymore-problems.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/247098995110458948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/247098995110458948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/no-moneymore-problems.html' title='No Money...More Problems'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-7801252157271345007</id><published>2011-06-20T08:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T11:56:01.221-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Biidness in da BOX</title><content type='html'>This week in the BOX a woman called because she was lost. She typed the wrong info into the GPS and called us saying "I am by the McDonalds where am I?" Having been given such little information, my coworker Don didnt know where she was. She continued to yell and get&amp;nbsp;aggravated&amp;nbsp;that he did know what he was doing. But she wasnt giving any good clue as to where she was. We only know where we are..not where you are. Then she called again, and again, getting more aggravated because she said we werent helping. But how can u call and say one random landmark like McDonalds which is all over the world! The last time she called she spoke to me and the first thing she said was "I am by the gallery where am I?" I replied saying I didnt know where it was and asked for a town or greater landmark. She started yelling and screaming again. This woman was unreal! After screaming and yelling at me. When she finally arrived she insisted that we didnt know what we are doing and wondered how we ran a&amp;nbsp;business&amp;nbsp;blah blah blah...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The other day, a man came in and tried using a credit card that wasnt his and the signature was scratched. I told him that we couldnt take the card unless we had permission from the man and an ID. He was like "oh well hes not here, hes mowing the lawn." Meanwhile, it was pouring rain outside! We told him he could not use it unless we had permission from the man or shall i say his "roomate".&amp;nbsp; Joanne said if he came back with the friends ID to get his number and call him to confirm the billing address and usage of the card. So he ended up coming back and I old him I needed the number to his friend. he was like "why do you need to call him?"&amp;nbsp;I told him it was just to confirm everything. he was like "Do you want the house or cell number?" So i was like "Oh you know, whichever I can reach the fastest." So he was like "Oh you can try the house phone hell answer...hes outside mowing the lawn but he will answer." [wwhaaatt] He is mowing his lawn in the pouring rain but he will hear his house phone ring and answer it. I called once and no answer. He was like "yea just keep talking on the machine and he'll pick up" So I called again and did just that and he did answer. So he was able to purchase the tickets. But I still didnt feel comfortable using the card. He could have told anyone to sit in his house and answer the phone..blaghhh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then today I just got a call. Someone asked if our performance is the one on Nickerbocker road....I said no.&lt;br /&gt;the only thing I know is that I think I have a new favorite word. Nickerbocker, Nickerbocker, Nickerbocker!...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-7801252157271345007?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/7801252157271345007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/today.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/7801252157271345007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/7801252157271345007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/today.html' title='Biidness in da BOX'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-417432806440238446</id><published>2011-06-16T06:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-17T12:49:23.750-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Time</title><content type='html'>Time is what we can use to mold ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes it takes steps back to an older place to see where we need to go next.&lt;br /&gt;In time things&amp;nbsp;will&amp;nbsp;be better and in time, faith, and prayer; we will be growing into such a beautiful couple.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-417432806440238446?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/417432806440238446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/417432806440238446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/417432806440238446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/time.html' title='Time'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-3163037158146921942</id><published>2011-06-15T15:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-15T18:51:11.436-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beach Day!</title><content type='html'>I am so proud of Luke.&lt;br /&gt;I had an awesome day at the beach!&lt;br /&gt;Heres the evidence yo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KzZoF5ryjmE/Tfk2AriIVDI/AAAAAAAACGk/RdES-OqydnA/s1600/247900_101506547bibibiu70450063_591815062_18881898_86014_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="180" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KzZoF5ryjmE/Tfk2AriIVDI/AAAAAAAACGk/RdES-OqydnA/s320/247900_101506547bibibiu70450063_591815062_18881898_86014_n.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eWsTqiizO9I/Tfk2DINsS1I/AAAAAAAACGo/y-MXaw8SGVE/s1600/246807_10150654765865063_5918150ugcugtch62_18881820_832122_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="180" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eWsTqiizO9I/Tfk2DINsS1I/AAAAAAAACGo/y-MXaw8SGVE/s320/246807_10150654765865063_5918150ugcugtch62_18881820_832122_n.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TSFB_FbpJq4/Tfk2F5JuF0I/AAAAAAAACGs/v9xY0xQfGME/s1600/247494_10150654770870063_54r4r91815062_18881905_4588749_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TSFB_FbpJq4/Tfk2F5JuF0I/AAAAAAAACGs/v9xY0xQfGME/s320/247494_10150654770870063_54r4r91815062_18881905_4588749_n.jpg" width="180" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8EUFkUvyWZ4/Tfk38KanuII/AAAAAAAACGw/KN3sgutLqDI/s1600/beavhh.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8EUFkUvyWZ4/Tfk38KanuII/AAAAAAAACGw/KN3sgutLqDI/s1600/beavhh.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;picture taken 2010&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"&gt;I respect the one who is trying to grow for the positive outcomes. Like and ancient guy once said: Dont be afraid of moving forward, fear standing still...or something like that. I really want to grow WITH you. ♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Theres a new blog out there folks!!!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;someone who is very dear to my heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;listen to the &lt;a href="http://lfinley827.blogspot.com/"&gt;Things I Need To Say&lt;/a&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/8102906448964150597-3163037158146921942?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/3163037158146921942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/beach-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3163037158146921942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3163037158146921942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/beach-day.html' title='Beach Day!'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KzZoF5ryjmE/Tfk2AriIVDI/AAAAAAAACGk/RdES-OqydnA/s72-c/247900_101506547bibibiu70450063_591815062_18881898_86014_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-693898994897951533</id><published>2011-06-14T17:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-14T17:41:18.969-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You need to know.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;You need to know that i love you&lt;br&gt;That I want to be with you.&lt;br&gt;And this seperation is to help you and me grow.&lt;br&gt;I don't mean to write sappy blog posts&lt;br&gt;But you need to know your not alone and maturing is going to occur for you and me both.&lt;br&gt;But its something you need to find on your own.&amp;nbsp; Who you are. What you want.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I love you.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-693898994897951533?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/693898994897951533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/you-need-to-know.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/693898994897951533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/693898994897951533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/you-need-to-know.html' title='You need to know.'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-3912405892588054895</id><published>2011-06-14T10:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-14T10:59:46.758-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bits and Pieces</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Lv7KUjvfehM/TfebUDmKfJI/AAAAAAAACGg/mxYzErt4NKM/s1600/holding-hands-photography-535693_1280_10242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="256" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Lv7KUjvfehM/TfebUDmKfJI/AAAAAAAACGg/mxYzErt4NKM/s320/holding-hands-photography-535693_1280_10242.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night in my dream my subconcious came out full&amp;nbsp; force. in the dream I laughed and cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am currently sitting in the BOX office here at work and I am itching to leave. Why? I honestly dont know. i have nothing going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am longing for my pj's, I have an empty feeling I cant fill, I have tears that wont come out no matter how much I want them to pour, I have been trying to read but its really just words running through my head. They have no meaning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep eating..which is no surprise...But now I have a stomach ache because it was all I have had was Chex mix. And also probably 10 pounds of penne ala vodka in the past 2 days...(maybe I am exaggerating aliitle)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to go out...but theres nothing to do....tomorrow I am going to the beach...Ill probably fall asleep and let the sun absorb my body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My grandma called. Whenever I hear her voice and her talking about her chemo treatments I want to cry. but I dont...not until i hit the Red button.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Music makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Why does it have powers? What about sounds connects to teh human soul and gives it a home and lets it nurture it.&amp;nbsp;I cry because I love music so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad said the msot beautiful thing the other day. he said when Christina and I sing its as if we know each other. And I think its true...theres a different passion, music is the link, and faith is the base.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;am learning to accept feelings for what they are. They may not be right and they may not be wrong but they are real. Real feelings. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish things were so much simpler. I wish relationships were so much simpler. I wish that I could balance independace and dependance. &lt;strong&gt;But i will always be a free spirit who think she can take care of herself. I will always try to reach what I cant touch and seek what lies past my line of vision. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-3912405892588054895?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/3912405892588054895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/bits-and-pieces.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3912405892588054895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3912405892588054895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/bits-and-pieces.html' title='Bits and Pieces'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Lv7KUjvfehM/TfebUDmKfJI/AAAAAAAACGg/mxYzErt4NKM/s72-c/holding-hands-photography-535693_1280_10242.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-4092895822002113680</id><published>2011-06-13T10:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-13T10:40:27.161-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Conversing with a Patron at Work</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Ok, so your seats for your show are in row F, seats 6 and 8.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron&lt;/strong&gt;: Ugh...whats the letter again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; Row F&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron:&lt;/strong&gt; And the number again..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt;: 6 and 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron:&lt;/strong&gt; Ok now...I would like to use my Mastercard for this purchase&lt;strong&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me: &lt;/strong&gt;Ok thats no problem we take Mastercard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron:&lt;/strong&gt; Ok heres my number. [gives me number]...Ok now can you just give me my seats again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt;: Sure, its F seast 6 and 8.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron:&lt;/strong&gt; And what row is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; The eleventh row.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron:&lt;/strong&gt; And the seats?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; F 6 and 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Patron:&lt;/strong&gt; Im sorry I dont have my glasses on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Based on a true story.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-4092895822002113680?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/4092895822002113680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/conversing-with-patron-at-work.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4092895822002113680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4092895822002113680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/conversing-with-patron-at-work.html' title='Conversing with a Patron at Work'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-156418858021430126</id><published>2011-06-10T21:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-10T21:37:21.788-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Peeves</title><content type='html'>I'll go through a rough day&lt;br /&gt;but when I know I am going to be in public and around other people and stuff I put on the happy face because I know that the people I am with&amp;nbsp;didn't&amp;nbsp;do anything wrong.&lt;br /&gt;But for some people out there...&lt;br /&gt;they make it their life goal to express how much they hate their life and they insist you are the problem&lt;br /&gt;and it sucks when that person is supposed to be the closest one to you.&lt;br /&gt;Dont yell at me in public.&lt;br /&gt;Dont make people feel uncomfortable.&lt;br /&gt;Dont say things you dont mean.&lt;br /&gt;And keep track of the things you need to keep track of.&lt;br /&gt;I am not here to babysit you.&lt;br /&gt;And I cannot read your thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;Dont think for a moment that just because someone isnt crying they arent upset, or if someone isnt yelling that they arent mad.&lt;br /&gt;We just dont want to burden other people with our problems because we hate when its done to us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-156418858021430126?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/156418858021430126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/peeves.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/156418858021430126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/156418858021430126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/peeves.html' title='Peeves'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-1583222384981408481</id><published>2011-06-09T08:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-10T21:37:36.984-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Believe.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Today was my grandmas funeral. &lt;br /&gt;This past week has been a pure example of love and all of my past issues with faith and believing had simply diminished. &lt;br /&gt;I can believe because when I had to sing at the service my emotions got the best of me and the crowd began to sing when I couldn't. Music already gives power and fills an empty space in the soul. But when people join together the strength is incomprehensible. I need to give a shout out to Christina.&amp;nbsp; She is such a beautiful person and a gift! She sounded beautiful on out duet.&lt;br /&gt;I believe also when I hear my dad speak. He spoke today at the funeral and you know automatically that god loves and works through him.&amp;nbsp; I don't think that there was one person who didn't feel inspired. &lt;br /&gt;And my mom. Her strength is so rich and I know god gave it to her. All the days she went and dedicated her time to her mother. Her and my aunt mary both. Unbelievable!&lt;br /&gt;And Luke is great...his hand to hold is all I need when there's nothing....but everything to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe in love...faith. God is great! &lt;br /&gt;My family is so blessed!&amp;nbsp; With love, great friends,&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; so much!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-1583222384981408481?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/1583222384981408481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-believe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1583222384981408481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1583222384981408481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-believe.html' title='I Believe.'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-668556450366631006</id><published>2011-06-04T20:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-04T20:18:10.606-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Frances De Angelo</title><content type='html'>Today, my grandma passed away from cancer in her cologne that spread to her liver.&lt;br /&gt;My mom's mom.&lt;br /&gt;It is so sad to see someone die from cancer, but the only good thing now, is that she is not suffering.&lt;br /&gt;She was a determined woman.&lt;br /&gt;Feisty&amp;nbsp;till the end of her days.&lt;br /&gt;When I see her, I understand where my moms strength comes from.&lt;br /&gt;And her strength is abundant!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suddenly remember back to when I was younger&lt;br /&gt;and Jonathan and I would be playing with our stuffed animals and she would tell us to quiet down.&lt;br /&gt;Or when I sat on her lap in Vermont and she read me stories.&lt;br /&gt;Or when I was five and she gave me the necklace I still wear around my neck..a gold cross...little did she know how much that old&amp;nbsp;chain&amp;nbsp;reminded me to have faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter how much&lt;br /&gt;we miss a person they never really leave us. They left the world...but we keep them in our memories..which keeps them alive. Just like when I am driving, my dad might not be there, but I still hear him say "Francesca, make sure you can see the cars tires in front of you when you stop" or "Dont be texting when your driving."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VH_zOUiuXGM/TerzyujK3eI/AAAAAAAACGc/NhjI2OyT0jc/s1600/256068_228052550540062_100000059560989_1004484_8152637_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VH_zOUiuXGM/TerzyujK3eI/AAAAAAAACGc/NhjI2OyT0jc/s320/256068_228052550540062_100000059560989_1004484_8152637_o.jpg" width="241" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-668556450366631006?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/668556450366631006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/frances-de-angelo.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/668556450366631006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/668556450366631006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/frances-de-angelo.html' title='Frances De Angelo'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VH_zOUiuXGM/TerzyujK3eI/AAAAAAAACGc/NhjI2OyT0jc/s72-c/256068_228052550540062_100000059560989_1004484_8152637_o.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-4179686512666689803</id><published>2011-06-01T16:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T16:26:36.527-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In the Box.</title><content type='html'>I started work at my old job again.&lt;br /&gt;My normal summer job&lt;br /&gt;In the Box office. &lt;br /&gt;I love summers here.&lt;br /&gt;Christina works with me...I just will never get over these stubborn mosquitos that insist on eating me alive&lt;br /&gt;WAHH!&lt;br /&gt;Its great though, seeing everyone I missed from last summer.&lt;br /&gt;People missed me! &lt;br /&gt;I missed them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crap..I think i got oil on my hand from the bottom of the pull out computer keyboard.&lt;br /&gt;oh well..tis the season to get dirt on your knees, sun on your skin, sand in your hair...and oil on your hands?&lt;br /&gt;haha&lt;br /&gt;I love summer!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-4179686512666689803?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/4179686512666689803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/in-box.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4179686512666689803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4179686512666689803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/06/in-box.html' title='In the Box.'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-1912873068922738740</id><published>2011-05-22T05:49:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-22T05:49:25.918-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Remember Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Its funny, as I sit here with my grandma who is ill wig limited time here with us on earth. I can't help but think that we all are going to reach this time in our lives where we can function by ourselves anymore. We will have to rely on the people around us...our family. Which hopefully, I will always have around me. In my grandmas case, a few years back she had a stroke, and it is very hard for her to communicate with us and for us to understand her. For me, that is my worst fear. I want to be able to voice what I am thinking. I want people to understand my thoughts. I have this dying need to communicate with the world...which I guess is one of the reasons I started this blog. I never want to forget or be forgotten. &lt;br&gt;My grandpas memory is fading away. But the beautiful thing is the one story he always remembers is the day he me my grandma. That's beautiful. Which gives me hope because...just maybe...some things are just unable to be forgotten.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-1912873068922738740?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/1912873068922738740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/05/remember-me.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1912873068922738740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1912873068922738740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/05/remember-me.html' title='Remember Me'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-3940068344915805080</id><published>2011-05-18T16:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-18T16:32:56.239-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaps of Faith</title><content type='html'>I am trying to make a change!&lt;br /&gt;A change that begins with Faith&lt;br /&gt;I somehow have been lacking it, finding it hard believe, finding it hard to trust.&lt;br /&gt;But that is all going to flip around&lt;br /&gt;I used to be this crazy young child that had so much faith. I believed with out needing to see evidence.&lt;br /&gt;Now I stand around waiting for evidence to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And some of my best times have been when I didnt care and I took a leap of Faith.&lt;br /&gt;So bare with me world...I am taking them...I am taking more leaps of&amp;nbsp;Faith!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-3940068344915805080?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/3940068344915805080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/05/leaps-of-faith.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3940068344915805080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3940068344915805080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/05/leaps-of-faith.html' title='Leaps of Faith'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-3846131880573916784</id><published>2011-05-13T13:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-13T13:56:16.482-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vocal Recital</title><content type='html'>I regret neglecting writing this for about two weeks&lt;br /&gt;But I recently on May 4th had my&amp;nbsp;Sophomore&amp;nbsp;Recital.&lt;br /&gt;It was AMAZING! I felt so connected with my songs.&lt;br /&gt;My professor Dr. Cavanaugh who is the hardest grader said I did so well, that I was one of the highlights of the day. It felt so good ending my time here at this college with a bang!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My vocal coach Kelly also told me something great..she was like&lt;br /&gt;"You should never be scared and hold back, because you are a free spirit and you have a light about you. A light everyone should see." I dont think there is a better thing anyone could have said.&lt;br /&gt;I know I will keep in touch with her,what a great influence she has been on my life and my singing career.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-3846131880573916784?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/3846131880573916784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/05/vocal-recital.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3846131880573916784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3846131880573916784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/05/vocal-recital.html' title='Vocal Recital'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-5993149195206490016</id><published>2011-05-07T19:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-07T19:42:41.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dont Get No Respect Till You are in Debt With Babies.....</title><content type='html'>So I am 20..going to be 21 is a few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I left for work today I said to my parents&lt;br /&gt;"is it ok if Luke comes over later? were watching a movie."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They said no it was too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I said&lt;br /&gt;"Ok. Then Ill just go over his house."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then my dad&amp;nbsp;proceeded&amp;nbsp;to say how it was too late, making a big deal of it. It all concluded with him telling me to just go to work in a sarcastic manner that&amp;nbsp;pretty&amp;nbsp;much belittled me and everything I was saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I am at work I get a text from my mom asking if I was going to be home later.&lt;br /&gt;I said I pretty much had to be because dad was aggravated about it before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she was like&lt;br /&gt;"Ok because Jonathan wants to go out, so you have to watch Sarah and David."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DOES THIS MAKE ANY SENSE!&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that He can and I cant?&lt;br /&gt;When is it acceptable to be treated like an adult with respect.&lt;br /&gt;How is it right that they can talk down to me and to them I am not supposed to have thoughts or opinions.&lt;br /&gt;Do people realize that in order to get respect you need to give it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-5993149195206490016?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/5993149195206490016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/05/dont-get-no-respect-till-you-are-in.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5993149195206490016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5993149195206490016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/05/dont-get-no-respect-till-you-are-in.html' title='Dont Get No Respect Till You are in Debt With Babies.....'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-2647502165361029962</id><published>2011-04-18T11:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-18T11:14:08.847-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Catskills</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Currently hostage in the catskills and it is awesome! Its so beautiful ...I love luke! Things are great!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/Tax_b98krdI/AAAAAAAACGA/dbKN-acE-ac/2011-04-18_01-42-41_360.png' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-2647502165361029962?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/2647502165361029962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/04/catskills.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/2647502165361029962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/2647502165361029962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/04/catskills.html' title='Catskills'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh4.ggpht.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/Tax_b98krdI/AAAAAAAACGA/dbKN-acE-ac/s72-c/2011-04-18_01-42-41_360.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-7045285459100665484</id><published>2011-04-11T05:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-11T05:36:54.754-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick Again...Humph!</title><content type='html'>Sore throat.&lt;br /&gt;Post nasal drip.&lt;br /&gt;Ear infection.&lt;br /&gt;Watery eyes.&lt;br /&gt;Sneezing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I sneezed so hard at work, I fell into the salad bar's cutting board. The cutting board then proceeded to fall on my foot. It was a big cutting board. So let us add....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sore foot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-7045285459100665484?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/7045285459100665484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/04/sick-againhumph.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/7045285459100665484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/7045285459100665484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/04/sick-againhumph.html' title='Sick Again...Humph!'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-1434899387124115393</id><published>2011-04-10T12:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T12:47:27.595-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Unsatisfied</title><content type='html'>I love when people make up lies to cover someone elses mistake. When they say things just to say things. I love when those people are your family. Someone you should be able to trust and lean on. Instead they throw you in the middle of their fights and make you a part of their shame. They suffocate you and try to control you. They make you feel guilty and make you go insane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not love.&lt;br /&gt;This is not family.&lt;br /&gt;Simply strangers that live in the same household as you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is nothing sacred anymore?&lt;br /&gt;Since when did hard work mean nothing?&lt;br /&gt;What happens to the people who are trying to be responsible?&lt;br /&gt;I dont think my mom would ever favor me.&lt;br /&gt;I try to hard.&lt;br /&gt;I dont want to sulk or be in the slumps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will grow and become and well accomplished woman.&lt;br /&gt;I will be independent and I will influence and make a difference.&lt;br /&gt;So when the time comes I have done everything I could.&lt;br /&gt;And everything she says now will be proven to not be true.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-1434899387124115393?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/1434899387124115393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/04/unsatisfied.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1434899387124115393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1434899387124115393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/04/unsatisfied.html' title='Unsatisfied'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-5321043662429655901</id><published>2011-04-09T14:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-09T14:02:47.952-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love is hard.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Its hard being mad at someone you love. All you want to do is cuddle with them and want everything to be ok. But then the situations reality sets in and you can't deny the fact that your hurt. My emotions I hide during the day are unmasked into intense dramas in my dreams. There's no where to run...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-5321043662429655901?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/5321043662429655901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/04/love-is-hard.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5321043662429655901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5321043662429655901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/04/love-is-hard.html' title='Love is hard.'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-745782796689586664</id><published>2011-04-05T09:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-05T09:04:17.639-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bleak but Beautiful</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Today is like a fall day. Leaves are being bullied by the wind. The clouds are hovering over us, making it uneasy to see the roads properly. Then again mr. Fog was here before us, so we really can't complain. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Norah jones fits right in today...her music I mean. Her music is beautiful. When I think of her songs, you hear a steady beat, musically nothing too obscure for a musician to play or learn.&amp;nbsp; But her lyrics are gorgeous. Her words collect such fantastic imagey, her music paints a picture in your mind perfectly. As someone on YouTube said " the more you listen to her music, the more addicted you become."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-745782796689586664?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/745782796689586664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/04/bleak-but-beautiful.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/745782796689586664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/745782796689586664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/04/bleak-but-beautiful.html' title='Bleak but Beautiful'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-6520312277782815601</id><published>2011-04-03T10:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T10:48:53.500-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Butterflies</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Relationships shouldn't be hard. Right? Your in a relationship for support and companionship. Why should you be criticized and defensive. Nothing makes sense. I want that warm fuzzy feeling. Its my fault for wanting that. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-6520312277782815601?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/6520312277782815601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/04/butterflies.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/6520312277782815601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/6520312277782815601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/04/butterflies.html' title='Butterflies'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-8007272209347960384</id><published>2011-03-29T13:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-29T13:40:30.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scholarships</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;I found out today that I got a quarter tuition performing arts scholarship!!!! I feel so great and so accomplished. Now I just need to find out if I get a transfer scholarship! !!!! eeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-8007272209347960384?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/8007272209347960384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/03/scholarships.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/8007272209347960384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/8007272209347960384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/03/scholarships.html' title='Scholarships'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-4589332593411256214</id><published>2011-03-22T12:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-22T12:55:12.252-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Awesomeness</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Luke is such a little cutie&lt;br&gt;Im understanding the terrors of music theory ...I think....&lt;br&gt;I have a new phone&lt;br&gt;I have a new car.&lt;br&gt;My songs are coming along beautifully!&lt;br&gt;I am making money. &lt;br&gt;My brothers girlfriend is a sweetheart.&lt;br&gt;The weather is getting warmer&lt;br&gt;Soon it will be spring break and I will be spending time with Luke and my family in the catskills.&lt;br&gt;I had a great week with my bestfriend Christina ...she is awesome and is going to go so far in life!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But most importantly I feel at peace. I feel confident &lt;br&gt;I feel love&lt;br&gt;I am blessed.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Not just with physical things in a time of financial despair ...but with a truely emotional blessing!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sometimes we need to&lt;br&gt;Stop. Breathe. And be.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-4589332593411256214?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/4589332593411256214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/03/awesomeness.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4589332593411256214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4589332593411256214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/03/awesomeness.html' title='Awesomeness'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-690553691027285792</id><published>2011-03-20T12:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-20T12:17:49.668-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shoes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.6em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;Just saw the most adorable pair of shoes. They were 25 dollars. Which normally would have been an awesome deal but since I am poor it was too expensive..sigh....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-4OR3h6hkIN4/TYZS1UvyQpI/AAAAAAAACFU/mNFuRb0GrjI/s1600/2011-03-20_13-38-53_11.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="180" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-4OR3h6hkIN4/TYZS1UvyQpI/AAAAAAAACFU/mNFuRb0GrjI/s320/2011-03-20_13-38-53_11.png" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.6em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;But this is my first post from my droid which issued awesome! Now I can literally type what I am thinking the instant I think it haha&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-690553691027285792?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/690553691027285792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/03/shoes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/690553691027285792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/690553691027285792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/03/shoes.html' title='Shoes'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-4OR3h6hkIN4/TYZS1UvyQpI/AAAAAAAACFU/mNFuRb0GrjI/s72-c/2011-03-20_13-38-53_11.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-7739076918198945613</id><published>2011-03-11T09:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-11T09:58:28.891-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Aliens and Creepy Flyers</title><content type='html'>What?! Last nights dream was creepy and crazy.&lt;br /&gt;To make a long story short....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically aliens came and tried to abduct my family. Then they played a word search game to see who would go with them and who would be left to die?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad had contracted this bug that enters your body and then multiplies to millions when its inside you and if he touches someone then you can get it too. When they have matured inside your body then they come out of you. Through your mouth and eyes. My dad couldnt take it and he wanted to get rid of them so he came up to me and gave them to me. The dream ended when I was about to go to the doctor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-7739076918198945613?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/7739076918198945613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/03/aliens-and-creepy-flyers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/7739076918198945613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/7739076918198945613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/03/aliens-and-creepy-flyers.html' title='Aliens and Creepy Flyers'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-2228001474995782891</id><published>2011-03-11T09:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-11T09:48:34.330-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Deja Vu</title><content type='html'>Last Saturday I had a crazy dream&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was dream I was at work waiting tables. My restaurant is small but in my dream it seemed to grow. Pretty soon I was waiting tables at applebees. There was a woman who was at one of my tables who said to me, that she knew about something my friend did in the past. She had the story completely misunderstood and she threatened to take me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I start running and she started to chase me. Eventually she caught up with me and erased my memory. My life pretty much started brand new and in my mind this woman was my friend and the only person that I could rely on. As we were walking past the same restaurant, I recognized a tree and a path into the woods that was really dark and shady.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I told her that I felt that I had been there before, it felt like Deja Vu. In my mind It was just a feeling. But in her mind she knew what my past and my real life really was. She eventually started to feel really guilty and told me the truth. I&amp;nbsp;didn't&amp;nbsp;believe her&amp;nbsp;because&amp;nbsp;it&amp;nbsp;wasn't&amp;nbsp;what I remembered. In my mind she was all I knew. She tried to send me out in the world without her and I didnt want to do it and I was really upset. In the end I was left really confused.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-2228001474995782891?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/2228001474995782891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/03/deja-vu.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/2228001474995782891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/2228001474995782891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/03/deja-vu.html' title='Deja Vu'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-5022099263392213798</id><published>2011-03-06T09:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T09:40:43.413-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bull</title><content type='html'>My mom started yelling at everyone again. Saying that she does&amp;nbsp;everything&amp;nbsp;and we do nothing.&lt;br /&gt;Another morning, where we were all yelling at one another.&lt;br /&gt;Another day in the screwed up world of the Welhous Family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-5022099263392213798?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/5022099263392213798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/03/bull.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5022099263392213798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5022099263392213798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/03/bull.html' title='Bull'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-883771749135211834</id><published>2011-02-11T08:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-11T08:45:32.498-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Dreaming</title><content type='html'>My dreams need to stop&lt;br /&gt;Especially last nights.&lt;br /&gt;The surprising thing was it was not a bad dream, or an adventure dream.&lt;br /&gt;It was simple.&lt;br /&gt;It almost felt real&lt;br /&gt;It was great.&lt;br /&gt;But then you wake up&lt;br /&gt;and its only a dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was only a dream...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-883771749135211834?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/883771749135211834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/02/just-dreaming.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/883771749135211834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/883771749135211834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/02/just-dreaming.html' title='Just Dreaming'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-2423480172246599626</id><published>2011-02-09T18:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-09T18:46:00.801-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dark Spot</title><content type='html'>Its funny how relationships work.&lt;br /&gt;How some people love because they see in others what they don't have.&lt;br /&gt;Some people love people because they have&amp;nbsp;something&amp;nbsp;familiar.&lt;br /&gt;How some people become friends with people who are nothing like them&lt;br /&gt;and others befriend those who could be exactly like them. Identical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To me, I never saw an appeal in those who were exactly like me&lt;br /&gt;I see beauty in those different than me&lt;br /&gt;I love being friends with people who have so many different sides&lt;br /&gt;Who&amp;nbsp;aren't&amp;nbsp;afraid to seek new adventures and ideas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is nothing wrong with people staying with whats familiar.&lt;br /&gt;But I was just thinking...how boring my life would be if I didnt seek to know what I dont have myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-2423480172246599626?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/2423480172246599626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/02/dark-spot.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/2423480172246599626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/2423480172246599626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/02/dark-spot.html' title='Dark Spot'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-8209133236176846756</id><published>2011-02-05T07:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-05T07:23:45.367-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Alittle Toss and Turn</title><content type='html'>Its always the dreams you dont want to fall back to sleep to, that keeps returning. Why&amp;nbsp;couldn't&amp;nbsp;I fall back to sleep to a dream where I marry Luke and we become super&amp;nbsp;heroes&amp;nbsp;and saved the planet everyday...&amp;nbsp;well&amp;nbsp;almost everyday...everyday would be tiring.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-8209133236176846756?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/8209133236176846756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/02/alittle-toss-and-turn.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/8209133236176846756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/8209133236176846756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/02/alittle-toss-and-turn.html' title='Alittle Toss and Turn'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-4624798620221135849</id><published>2011-02-04T19:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-04T19:23:55.519-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Depressed</title><content type='html'>Ive lately been having some good times and a positive outlook.&lt;br /&gt;But I hated today.&lt;br /&gt;Lately nothing seems to be worth while.&lt;br /&gt;My parents fight all the time.&lt;br /&gt;My brothers and sisters argue all the time.&lt;br /&gt;Some of my professors are being weird and all I want to be is&amp;nbsp;successful&lt;br /&gt;And all I want is to be with Luke but...I am always doing something to disappoint.&lt;br /&gt;I am just a disappointing child right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-4624798620221135849?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/4624798620221135849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/02/depressed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4624798620221135849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4624798620221135849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/02/depressed.html' title='Depressed'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-60409777402714726</id><published>2011-02-04T11:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-04T11:32:17.958-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stomach Infection</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was the most&amp;nbsp;horrible&amp;nbsp;experience.&lt;br /&gt;I got a migraine in one of the my theory classes. But then in my music history class I&amp;nbsp;couldn't&amp;nbsp;sit&amp;nbsp;comfortably&amp;nbsp;or even keep my trail mix down. I got up and spent a half hour in the bathroom puking. As if that&amp;nbsp;wasn't&amp;nbsp;bad enough, when I went to drive home I had to pull over on the expressway to puke again. This time I was crying. I was crying because I pulled over in this tiny area, big trucks were moving by, and I was puking so much that I&amp;nbsp;couldn't&amp;nbsp;even breathe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I finally got home I went to lie down and puked again. Everything I tried eating I was puking up. The last and final time&amp;nbsp;I puked&amp;nbsp;it was green. This and other&amp;nbsp;symptoms&amp;nbsp;were pointing towards a stomach infection. So here I am today hydrating and trying to eat things. Slowly but surely, feeling better. The sides of my eyes have red marks from where my blood vessels popped and my body is weak. But at least it was only a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I am doing homework, cleaning my room, and waiting to see Luke later. I miss him!!!! &amp;lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-60409777402714726?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/60409777402714726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/02/stomach-infection.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/60409777402714726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/60409777402714726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/02/stomach-infection.html' title='Stomach Infection'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-2505719987788238365</id><published>2011-01-31T18:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T18:03:33.919-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Beginning</title><content type='html'>Its a new semester and things are already piling up.&lt;br /&gt;But I am ready! I tackled all but one of my auditions and only one is left.&lt;br /&gt;I am currently getting myself organized.&lt;br /&gt;Getting music together and doing homework.&lt;br /&gt;This semester will be a sucess, it WILL!&lt;br /&gt;I just spoke to Luke, I love him.&lt;br /&gt;He makes everything awesome, and he just joined the brass ensemble!&lt;br /&gt;I cant wait to go to his concerts.&lt;br /&gt;I am saving money.&lt;br /&gt;I had tea with Christina and she is awesome too!&lt;br /&gt;Who better to plan out things with than her, both adventurous yet realistic.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and on top of everything I bought tons of pencils, so I will not run out this semester.&lt;br /&gt;And I am singing three awesome songs for my recital this May.&lt;br /&gt;Aaaand after I finish typing my reading sheets I am going to take a shower with the best soap ever- Whipped silk by St Ives..MMmmmmmMMMmmm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So everything is pretty much great right now.&lt;br /&gt;Lets see what happens when the course load gets harder :0!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-2505719987788238365?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/2505719987788238365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/01/another-beginning.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/2505719987788238365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/2505719987788238365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/01/another-beginning.html' title='Another Beginning'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-7218663509798069945</id><published>2011-01-10T07:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-10T07:35:07.573-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Human Specimens</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;You know how now there are scientific videos that spend the whole time examining an insect or a Koala bear or something. Well as I was driving to school today I was thinking about-what if someone or some other creature were to examine us as humans and our whole way of being from a distant perspective?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I would imagine it would be very interesting. Think about it now. We are irrational and we do things that we should know not to do.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;We must look so funny.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-7218663509798069945?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/7218663509798069945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/01/human-specimens.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/7218663509798069945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/7218663509798069945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/01/human-specimens.html' title='Human Specimens'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-6430768979832668420</id><published>2011-01-09T09:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-09T09:20:01.526-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Auditions</title><content type='html'>In the past, auditions have been a horrible process and an utter disaster. The past year and a half have been getting myself out of the gutter and into a more confident appearance. Yesterday I had my first audition of the winter and it was amazing. I went in with a neutral mind. I was going to rock it and try my best and if I did well then I did well if not, then I will do better next time. I was speaking to Christina (&lt;a href="http://monty-connections.blogspot.com/"&gt;Connections&lt;/a&gt;) and her words are always inspriring. I am so fortunate to have her friendship :)!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;But I had an awesome audition. I felt confident, personable, and professional. There were people there who were in jeans. Never have I ever seen someone show up to an audition in jeans. Que??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Note to self:&lt;/b&gt; remain as I am. Never wear jeans to an audition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman loved my audition and the faculty was very personable. Honestly I am just going to continue with my auditions and what ever happens, happens. We shall see!! I am excited to tackle my future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-6430768979832668420?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/6430768979832668420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/01/auditions.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/6430768979832668420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/6430768979832668420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2011/01/auditions.html' title='Auditions'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-6961047715697912556</id><published>2010-12-13T20:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-13T20:09:16.300-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reflection</title><content type='html'>Lately, I just want to&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;paint. In a quiet room, with maybe a little Chopin or Poulenc in the backround. To disappear in an imaginary world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These days, I want to sing. Singing is an urgent way to express emotion. I just want to express all the love, excitement, and passion I feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More&amp;nbsp;recently, I want to write a book. A passionate tale of suspense, love, and adventure!&amp;nbsp;I want to spend the day dreaming and then writing down so that I'll never forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 days ago, I bought a new piano book. Something to help my morning meditations. My mornings that consist of no more than a&amp;nbsp;coffee&amp;nbsp;and piano in my long fleece robe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I heard a song on the radio. I am way to fortunate and take so many things for granted. I wanted to cry and give anything I could to people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As of now, I am going to school, writing music, painting, blogging, and getting ready. because my past was music, the present is music, and my future is music. I am going to help people with music. I want to know that if I die tomorrow my life was worth something, something great. Dedicated to helping minds, bend, fold, and create.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-6961047715697912556?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/6961047715697912556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/12/reflection.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/6961047715697912556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/6961047715697912556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/12/reflection.html' title='Reflection'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-6232020863829160272</id><published>2010-12-05T06:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-05T06:05:57.321-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Toss and Turn</title><content type='html'>I am really looking forward to my doctors appointment on Thursday. Partially because I keep getting sick. Sick to the point where I cant even function. Last night at work I started getting a headache, I took three tylenols, left early and still ending up with a major migraine. I couldnt sleep, I couldnt functions. I had the chills yet I was overheating. My face when numb and I spent a half hour on my bathroom floor waiting to puke and 2 in the morning. I woke up this morning and noticed I have red marks on the side of my eyes from popped blood vessels from puking last night. I am exhausted but right after I puked I felt so much better. I need to figure out the cause!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-6232020863829160272?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/6232020863829160272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/12/toss-and-turn.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/6232020863829160272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/6232020863829160272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/12/toss-and-turn.html' title='Toss and Turn'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-4038743652726985447</id><published>2010-11-28T07:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-28T09:39:06.163-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Francesca and Luke</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;The story about Luke and I is that we are not perfect.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;We have a deep admiration and love for each other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;We see in&amp;nbsp;each other&amp;nbsp;what is different from one another.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tend to feel the need to have walls up all the time. As if I can never let anyone know that I have a weak side. I try to remain&amp;nbsp;strong&amp;nbsp;for Luke, my family, and most of all me. I have way to much pride. I have been an old&amp;nbsp;soul&amp;nbsp;A grown woman since birth. It is true that I still have a young side it comes out to play all the time. But most of the time. I try not to speak about what bothers me to avoid dealing with anything. It is much better for me to&amp;nbsp;suppress&amp;nbsp;feelings and bury them. But after a while they tend to explode from being restrained. At the same time that I dont want to speak about my feelings, I am very in touch with my emotions. I cried over Lilo and Stitch, I cry over commercials. It is something that conflicts inside of me all the time. The battle between letting it all out and holding it all in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;"We humans are &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;more complex&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt; than your silly little microbes. We're &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;unpredictable&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;. We make mistakes and we disappoint."----&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Painted Veil&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #535a60; font-family: arial, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Luke holds alot of complexity in his being. In ways that I am still uncovering and trying to figure out. He can be so willingly and openly strong for me. When I am unsure he gives me all the positivity in the world. He gives me all the positive feed back I need, even if I deny it. He is a generous soul. But yet at the same time, I wish he could realize all that he has to offer the world. How confident he should be in everything that he does. I love him for more than one reason. Sometimes it can be a real challenge, for the both of us, when our views and opinions collide. Or when there are things about each other that we just dont&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;know&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;how to deal with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;But then I think about can I see myself with out him? I dont believe I can. I have nightmares of loosing Luke. Yes, maybe in time I could laugh with someone else, cry to someone else, or go places with someone else. But I dont want someone else. And every time I would look at that someone else I would think of Luke. There is a certain feeling I get just knowing that he is here next to me. Or when I dont even have to look at him, I can just reach out and hold his hand. And there is this warmth that travels through me. He would never turn his back on me so I wont turn mine on his. We have went past a point, we are two humans, two people, who love each other and never want to see the other hurt. My day starts and ends with him on my mind. Even if we dont see each other its ok.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I am e&lt;b&gt;xcited to work through the rough patches&lt;/b&gt; I know no one else would ever have the patience to work through. I am &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;thrilled to see where we will grow to or what we will grow into&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;. We will be &lt;b&gt;perfect in our imperfection&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/TPKToyoY7hI/AAAAAAAACB4/jDloMAx93ps/s1600/CIMG2276cute.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/TPKToyoY7hI/AAAAAAAACB4/jDloMAx93ps/s320/CIMG2276cute.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-4038743652726985447?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/4038743652726985447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/11/francesca-and-luke.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4038743652726985447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4038743652726985447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/11/francesca-and-luke.html' title='Francesca and Luke'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/TPKToyoY7hI/AAAAAAAACB4/jDloMAx93ps/s72-c/CIMG2276cute.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-5827929418244513705</id><published>2010-11-24T23:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T23:02:45.268-08:00</updated><title type='text'>1:54 am</title><content type='html'>This may just be because its 1:54 am.&lt;br /&gt;But I have thoughts and memories playing through my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked back at pictures on the computer today.&lt;br /&gt;They were of me, when I was younger, vivacious, free-spirited&amp;nbsp;and care free.&lt;br /&gt;I don't ever want to let down that girl with a dream.&lt;br /&gt;the girl that had no boundaries.&lt;br /&gt;The girl who thought way too much for a 6 year old.&lt;br /&gt;The girl who wondered all the things that I feel most people dont think about till their older.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seek adventure!&lt;br /&gt;I seek new things!&lt;br /&gt;I seek a purpose!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not saying I am not getting there...its just a process.&lt;br /&gt;I have no money.&lt;br /&gt;I feel like life is pushing all its weight on my shoulders.&lt;br /&gt;I feel like when I speak, no one is really listening.&lt;br /&gt;Just nodding along to a monotone tune.&lt;br /&gt;I cant be restrained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Birds were meant to fly in the sky.&lt;br /&gt;Animals were made to walk.&lt;br /&gt;Fish were made to swim.&lt;br /&gt;I want to conquer it all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-5827929418244513705?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/5827929418244513705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/11/154-am.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5827929418244513705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5827929418244513705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/11/154-am.html' title='1:54 am'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-447494569651228558</id><published>2010-11-22T20:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-22T20:33:40.261-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Loaf of Love</title><content type='html'>Today, I took an unexpected nap after class. I was trying to memorize my poems for my vocal pieces, but instead, I fell asleep and this is what I dreamed about:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my dream I was with my friend Maria and we were so excited to sing for our Jury. But before we went in we saw a huge table of food and we started eating everything. But then I turned around and all of a sudden the scene changed. I was in a completely different place. I was laying down and around me were various people from a history book. Somehow I realized that Luke had died. I was devastated and&amp;nbsp;couldn't&amp;nbsp;stop crying. I&amp;nbsp;didn't&amp;nbsp;know what to do or where to go. I sat on this bench by a dock looking out at the ocean and there was this older woman who started talking to me. At first I&amp;nbsp;couldn't&amp;nbsp;see her. She was standing right next to me but I kept looking straight ahead. She kept tell me I had to take my charm&amp;nbsp;necklace&amp;nbsp;off. I told her I would never take it off. Then out of no where two hands came out from behind me and took my necklace. I grabbed it back and put it back on and I was sobbing with confusion and pain. Then I could see the old woman now. She said to me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;"Love is like a&amp;nbsp;knife&amp;nbsp;cutting a loaf of bread. It&amp;nbsp;separates&amp;nbsp;and the one piece with move away from the other."&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran away into a&amp;nbsp;building&amp;nbsp;because i was so confused. I entered a room that had my grandpa in it. He was laying down. I ran in and I tried to tell him everything. The whole time he&amp;nbsp;didn't&amp;nbsp;make eye contact with me. I tried explaining everything that had happened up until that point and he stopped me. He said that &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;"It&amp;nbsp;doesn't&amp;nbsp;matter. All you need to know is that Love never dies."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told him that I wished he was still here. He said that all I needed to know was that love never dies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up with heavy pressure on my head, still in a daze, and trying to remember all the detail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking about the whole bread quote all day and I finally told my dad the dream. The way he interpreted it was that&lt;b&gt; &lt;i&gt;if you have a really good loaf of bread, even if it&amp;nbsp;separates&amp;nbsp;it is still good. And now it can be shared with more that one person. That is probably the best interpretation I could ever think of. I think my dad was spot on.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-447494569651228558?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/447494569651228558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/11/loaf-of-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/447494569651228558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/447494569651228558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/11/loaf-of-love.html' title='A Loaf of Love'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-2538383655882397586</id><published>2010-11-14T10:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-14T10:59:23.103-08:00</updated><title type='text'>All the Same</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I was talking to the cook at work. I asked him what was new. He then replied "Nothing. Its all the same."&lt;br /&gt;"I think that everyday is all the same but with each day comes&amp;nbsp;something&amp;nbsp;new."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then asked "Like what?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Today was the last day of my little brothers pee wee football. I have a new car&amp;nbsp;freshener. I am hungry. I have a test in a few days, blah blah blah."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sat their for a moment in silence. Then he began to talk about his&amp;nbsp;grand daughter&amp;nbsp;who is one and a half. She is just discovering all the things that every little child her age is discovering. All the things that we as adults take for granted everyday. It was really cool connecting with him. I have never heard him speak about any other part of his life that&amp;nbsp;didn't&amp;nbsp;have to do with work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that the&amp;nbsp;cycle&amp;nbsp;of life occurs to keep us all young. We have little reminders&amp;nbsp;each&amp;nbsp;day. its up to us to notice them. New things. New adventures.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-2538383655882397586?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/2538383655882397586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/11/all-same.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/2538383655882397586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/2538383655882397586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/11/all-same.html' title='All the Same'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-1059396153121967719</id><published>2010-11-12T07:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-12T07:12:59.566-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fearless</title><content type='html'>I think I had forgotten the passion I used to feel for singing.&lt;br /&gt;I still have it...but it got buried underneath, the exams, papers, expectations, and obligations.&lt;br /&gt;I am so ready right now, to get back to the little girl who sang along with everything in the car, not afraid of who was around her.&lt;br /&gt;To be as daring to try anything new and not safe.&lt;br /&gt;And to not think about the faces staring blankly at me.&lt;br /&gt;Because they are just faces.&lt;br /&gt;It may be kind of corny but I was watching Boy Meets World this morning and Corey was having these nightmares because he was feeling guilty. The quote was :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;"your nightmares are just a manifestation of your guilt. You create them.You can control them."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, its not that I am guilty of anything, but the whole idea of fears can relate to this. The fear I hold I create myself. Therefore I am the only one who can control it.&lt;br /&gt;So I am.&lt;br /&gt;I am going to control everything I do, everything I am afraid or not afraid of.&lt;br /&gt;I am so ready to not care about what everyone else is thinking and start focusing on a passion!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-1059396153121967719?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/1059396153121967719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/11/fearless.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1059396153121967719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1059396153121967719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/11/fearless.html' title='Fearless'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-1641257063223389599</id><published>2010-11-07T20:00:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-07T20:00:52.096-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Painted Veil</title><content type='html'>The Painted Veil!!&lt;br /&gt;Such a good movie&lt;br /&gt;I cried my eyes out&lt;br /&gt;I showed my mom&lt;br /&gt;I want to own it&lt;br /&gt;I have dreamt about it&lt;br /&gt;I still think about it.&lt;br /&gt;I showed Christina and she cried&lt;br /&gt;I want to see it again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The End.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-1641257063223389599?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/1641257063223389599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/11/painted-veil.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1641257063223389599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1641257063223389599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/11/painted-veil.html' title='The Painted Veil'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-4494133450282084089</id><published>2010-11-03T11:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-03T11:46:18.573-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Restless</title><content type='html'>I am just so restless!&lt;br /&gt;My dreams keep me awake at night.&lt;br /&gt;I spent hours everyday trying to make sense of whats going on in the moment.&lt;br /&gt;I am so not on this planet right now.&lt;br /&gt;I feel as though I am walking around observing the people and things around me, instead of being ovolved. Although I am involved.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know&lt;br /&gt;My mind cant pace, it cant erase, it cant slow down&lt;br /&gt;Deeper and deeper I fall in a mess of thoughts&lt;br /&gt;Left by procrastination&lt;br /&gt;Then leaping towards some other&amp;nbsp;infatuation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-4494133450282084089?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/4494133450282084089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/11/restless.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4494133450282084089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4494133450282084089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/11/restless.html' title='Restless'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-454699533762391042</id><published>2010-10-31T11:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-31T11:19:05.195-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Simple Things</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I helped out with Opera Club and it was so awesome. It was safe Halloween, and I am not particularly a fan of Halloween, but we had fun games for the kids and stuff. I was at the booth where the kids had to throw rings around this bog coca cola bottles. It was a true&amp;nbsp;challenge&amp;nbsp;though because those bottles were huge and tall. Every kid that walked up just kind of tossed it, then never look, they just wanted candy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then two completely different kids walked up at different times. They were both mentally&amp;nbsp;challenged&amp;nbsp;in some way, or had some issue going on. One was really hyper and one was slower moving. but the both of these strangers did the same exact thing. Instead of trying to toss it, they just reached over the curtain thing, that&amp;nbsp;separated&amp;nbsp;us from the people, and they placed it&amp;nbsp;on top&amp;nbsp;of the bottle. They just walked up and placed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And for some reason, I thought that was so interesting. how their minds worked compared to the rest of the "normal" kids. For some reason I have been thinking about them all weekend. I just thought that was so interesting. I don't know..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-454699533762391042?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/454699533762391042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/simple-things.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/454699533762391042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/454699533762391042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/simple-things.html' title='The Simple Things'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-6659328472743089794</id><published>2010-10-28T17:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-28T17:06:11.337-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Medium</title><content type='html'>I find it so hard to balance my&amp;nbsp;Independence.&lt;br /&gt;I am so used to, even after a year, keeping everything to myself.&lt;br /&gt;At least things that I find to be personal.&lt;br /&gt;Things I hold really close to me I dont talk to people about.&lt;br /&gt;I love to socialize but in a very causal state.&lt;br /&gt;I am not a loner but sometimes I feel as though I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luke says I need to&amp;nbsp;communicate&amp;nbsp;and speak more about the thoughts I have on my mind.&lt;br /&gt;But I feel like whenever I do, people either dont really care, push it aside as a nothing thought, or dont understand my point of view.&lt;br /&gt;I really want to be open about a lot, but it&amp;nbsp;doesn't&amp;nbsp;work that way.&lt;br /&gt;It takes a lot to share intimate feelings with someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I think intimate to me holds a different meaning than it would for a lot of people.&lt;br /&gt;For example, one time I walked out of the bathroom with toilet paper hanging off my belt and my friend Aaron saw it, told me, and took it off. And we laughed about it. I dont find those moments&amp;nbsp;embarrassing, just annoying.&lt;br /&gt;Hence, I share a lot of moments on ,y blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there are things I dont think I even like to think about, that deal with the deep inner core of my being.&lt;br /&gt;those things I am having a hard time speaking about.&lt;br /&gt;And they&amp;nbsp;aren't&amp;nbsp;necessarily bad.&lt;br /&gt;Some are good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I think I just need to find a happy medium.&lt;br /&gt;So I can show Luke and everyone I love, how much I love them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-6659328472743089794?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/6659328472743089794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/happy-medium.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/6659328472743089794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/6659328472743089794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/happy-medium.html' title='Happy Medium'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-3834536759289266272</id><published>2010-10-26T13:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-26T13:09:04.745-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thats Your Opinion</title><content type='html'>As people grow, people form opinions.&lt;br /&gt;They will not be the same as their parents, their brothers, or their sisters.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe not even like friends or&amp;nbsp;acquaintances.&lt;br /&gt;So I think people should stop expecting everyone to agree with your opinions because in life there are people who do not think your always right.&lt;br /&gt;Once you stop expecting, you can begin being happy and content.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am getting so sick of&amp;nbsp;other&amp;nbsp;people who are in shock when their child has their own opinion. Or when you meet people who have different outlooks. Just suck it up.&lt;br /&gt;Because if thats the worst thing in your day, you need to wake up!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-3834536759289266272?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/3834536759289266272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/thats-your-opinion.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3834536759289266272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3834536759289266272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/thats-your-opinion.html' title='Thats Your Opinion'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-5170095824453194221</id><published>2010-10-24T07:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-24T07:26:20.824-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pumpkin Bread</title><content type='html'>So I am making&amp;nbsp;pumpkin&amp;nbsp;bread today! YES!&lt;br /&gt;I went in William Sonoma a few weeks back and they had samples of it on the counter in the store. At first I&amp;nbsp;didn't&amp;nbsp;want to spend 10 dollars on a little bag, but when I walked past it again the other day in the mall, I realized it was definitly worth it.&lt;br /&gt;So here we are, my cup of coffee, my pumpkin bread, and I&lt;br /&gt;Pretty soon they will all retire to my stomach and then it will just be, I.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-5170095824453194221?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/5170095824453194221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/pumpkin-bread.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5170095824453194221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5170095824453194221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/pumpkin-bread.html' title='Pumpkin Bread'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-4807168004823694750</id><published>2010-10-22T12:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-24T07:23:07.122-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fall</title><content type='html'>I think Manorville looks so pretty in the fall&lt;br /&gt;Its funny how &lt;b&gt;right before the trees die&lt;/b&gt;, they look the&lt;u&gt; most&lt;/u&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;u&gt; &lt;/u&gt;colorful&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I personally am reaching the point where I am&amp;nbsp;just&amp;nbsp;really drained.&lt;br /&gt;I cant even begin to express&lt;br /&gt;But I feel no one around me understands.&lt;br /&gt;Especially the ones closest to me.&lt;br /&gt;And I just dont even have the energy to explain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-4807168004823694750?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/4807168004823694750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/fall.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4807168004823694750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4807168004823694750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/fall.html' title='Fall'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-7052171188074031599</id><published>2010-10-19T20:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T20:13:28.248-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One Step at a Time</title><content type='html'>I keep making mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;Things in my work life are affecting school&lt;br /&gt;Things in my school life are affecting home&lt;br /&gt;Things at home are affecting my mood&lt;br /&gt;and ll of these are affecting relationships.&lt;br /&gt;I want Luke to know I love him.&lt;br /&gt;I want him to know that I care and I dont mean to be cranky.&lt;br /&gt;I want my parents to know I am trying&lt;br /&gt;I want my professors to see my effort.&lt;br /&gt;And most of all, I want God to see my efforts, my faith that no matter how small it is sometimes, still exists.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-7052171188074031599?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/7052171188074031599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/one-step-at-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/7052171188074031599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/7052171188074031599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/one-step-at-time.html' title='One Step at a Time'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-8626310344131626406</id><published>2010-10-15T12:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-15T12:42:27.966-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dr. Seuss</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"&gt;I really like this Dr. Seuss quote.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;i like &lt;i&gt;nonsense&lt;/i&gt;, it wakes up the brain cells. &lt;u&gt;fantasy&lt;/u&gt; is a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;necessary ingredient in living. it's a way of looking&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt; at life through the&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;wrong end&lt;/u&gt; of a telescope, which is what i&lt;/span&gt; do, and that enables&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&amp;nbsp;you to&lt;u&gt; laugh at life's realities&lt;/u&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;. -dr.seuss&lt;/span&gt;&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/8102906448964150597-8626310344131626406?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/8626310344131626406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/dr-seuss.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/8626310344131626406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/8626310344131626406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/dr-seuss.html' title='Dr. Seuss'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-7838697174930823882</id><published>2010-10-12T14:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-12T14:23:49.360-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost</title><content type='html'>I just went home to take a nap and while&amp;nbsp;sleeping&amp;nbsp;I had a horrible horrible dream.&lt;br /&gt;A dream that involved me kicking and screaming like a five year old, because I had lost almost&amp;nbsp;everything.&lt;br /&gt;The dream took&amp;nbsp;place&amp;nbsp;in the future. I was visiting family in a place unknown. They&amp;nbsp;weren't&amp;nbsp;close relatives but my dad was happy to see them. In the dream my parents did not speak to each other. My dad could never hear me, no matter how much I yelled or how close I got to him. He could not hear a word I was saying. Nor did he look at me in the eye. Not the entire dream.&lt;br /&gt;I was five months pregnant at the time and married to Luke. Luke&amp;nbsp;couldn't&amp;nbsp;make it on the trip because of some obligation back home. Everything was great up until I went into labor. It was way too early but they brought me to a hospital across the street. My family was cheering and all happy for me, but I was the only one who saw something wrong with my early labor.&lt;br /&gt;The birthing process was extremely painful and there was blood everywhere. When the baby was finally out, the nurse looked at me and told me it was still born. In seconds they had left with the baby and buried it. I was crying because I&amp;nbsp;couldn't&amp;nbsp;see it or hold it. I had lost it.&lt;br /&gt;No one in my family could hear me after that. Everyone was so wrapped up int he family event. No one could see me standing there in my hospital gown and tears in my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;I eventually had changed and this man came up to, who was around my age, and said that I&amp;nbsp;shouldn't&amp;nbsp;have married Luke. He told me I was never meant to have a baby. I went to punch him and beat him up but he just left laughing and then people were trying to hold me back. As they were holding me back He started&amp;nbsp;dancing&amp;nbsp;around me. The whole dream I wanted to die. Because I love Luke. No matter how many times I said it and how much I meant it, or how upset I got over my baby no one could hear or see. Event the people who looked at me&amp;nbsp;couldn't&amp;nbsp;truly see. What I was saying was meaningless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then woke up exhausted, maybe a little&amp;nbsp;more&amp;nbsp;tired than I had been when I&amp;nbsp;had&amp;nbsp;fallen asleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-7838697174930823882?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/7838697174930823882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/lost.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/7838697174930823882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/7838697174930823882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/lost.html' title='Lost'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-8889182212050742498</id><published>2010-10-07T14:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T14:20:46.901-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Free to Love</title><content type='html'>Does God really want us to have free will?&lt;br /&gt;I asked my mom one day a few years ago why God&amp;nbsp;didn't&amp;nbsp;just make us perfect from the start. Why&amp;nbsp;didn't&amp;nbsp;he make us in such a way that we need not worry about right or wrong?&lt;br /&gt;She replied " because he loves us and he wanted us to have free will and the&amp;nbsp;ability&amp;nbsp;to make our own decisions."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must first say that I feel his love everywhere. It shelters me and keeps me safe. It is what keeps my family together, what saved my mom from Breast Cancer, and what is guiding my dad through his heart problems.There is one thing that I had a problem comprehending. That is, I am not sure he really wants us to have free will. When so many people have different ways of thinking and ideas of right or wrong. We are supposed to stay within the rules and&amp;nbsp;guidelines&amp;nbsp;he gives us. He tells us through his word what he wants us to do and what not to do. The human race always needs someone to look up to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, part of me wishes that&amp;nbsp;weren't&amp;nbsp;so. Why cant we just live? Or why&amp;nbsp;couldn't&amp;nbsp;he have just made us perfect from the&amp;nbsp;beginning? So we need not torment ourselves with question "Am I wrong?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am always trying to read his word and use it to help me&amp;nbsp;decipher&amp;nbsp;what is right or wrong, but sometimes my brain pauses and I ask him " Will you have&amp;nbsp;mercy&amp;nbsp;on me because I am human?" I pray and I pray. Because I can already see my future, mistakes I'll make in five years, ten years, or even fifty years. I worry about the&amp;nbsp;consequences&amp;nbsp;of my mistakes and how they will be weighed in the end so much. Can he deny someone who has made mistakes but still loves him. I hope not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I sit in my room and I'll be by myself, but I never feel alone. The purpose of this blog is not to negate his existence but to find the purpose in what I do. My life is not even my own because I&amp;nbsp;constantly&amp;nbsp;do everything for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the past, I have thought maybe he&amp;nbsp;doesn't, and its just a book, and my prayers are just words. but then I ask instead of "Does he exist"-"Does he NOT exist?" And the honest answer I give myself is there is no way he&amp;nbsp;doesn't&amp;nbsp;exist. I have been too blessed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And God gave us free will so we could make our own decisions and so that we could willingly love him. What is love? If it is forced upon you? Not love at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-8889182212050742498?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/8889182212050742498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/free-to-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/8889182212050742498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/8889182212050742498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/free-to-love.html' title='Free to Love'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-7745312119340301939</id><published>2010-10-06T20:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-06T20:05:40.538-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dont Step on my Breakfast</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;I threw up today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;I woke up with a horrible headache and I took excedrin, ate eggs, and then ended up feeling nauseous the whole way to school. I got there and it all came out. Right on the floor of my front seat. But the funny part was, I felt so much better after having puked. But I am going to the doctor tomorrow to get checked out and to make sure I am horribly ill. Im sure I am ok. But I would like to know why this keeps happening!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&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/8102906448964150597-7745312119340301939?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/7745312119340301939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/dont-step-on-my-breakfast.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/7745312119340301939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/7745312119340301939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/dont-step-on-my-breakfast.html' title='Dont Step on my Breakfast'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-7664539822790367310</id><published>2010-10-03T11:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-03T11:14:23.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beat!</title><content type='html'>I am getting sick and I am exhausted.&lt;br /&gt;I feel sobad because I feel like its not only affecting me but the people around me. Everytime I&amp;nbsp;see Luke which is like once ortwice a week. I am always tired. And it sucks because with our busy schedules, we are limited to when we can see each other. I feel very anti-social and I feel like the only place I am existing is in my brain. I dont feel very connected to anyone in the outside world. And I think I just need sleep. And about a week of me doing nothing at all, preferably with Luke so we can catch up on our TV shows and whatnot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-7664539822790367310?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/7664539822790367310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/beat.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/7664539822790367310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/7664539822790367310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/beat.html' title='Beat!'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-644922004784455910</id><published>2010-10-01T08:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-01T08:24:04.167-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HUMPH</title><content type='html'>My voice has been scratchy, my nose is getting stuffy, I have a canker sore in my mouth and its probably from brushing my teeth too hard or grinding my teeth at night, i have no clue. I am exhausted, dehydrated..and all of this is paying a toll on my voice. I have to practice and I am getting pitchy, my range instantly shrunk that last couple of days, and I just want it back. &amp;nbsp;And because of this my mood has been ..blaghhh bleghhh and bllhhuumphhh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HUMPH!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-644922004784455910?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/644922004784455910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/humph.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/644922004784455910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/644922004784455910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/10/humph.html' title='HUMPH'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-3987400384639895162</id><published>2010-09-28T18:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-28T18:06:43.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Crazy Reaction</title><content type='html'>My mom currently isnt speaking to me because I offered to help with the dishes. I apparently cut her off while she was speaking and she flipped out. Usually people have to opposite reaction when their kid offers to help out. Most of the time I dont offer. I just do it. But she never sees it and never will.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-3987400384639895162?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/3987400384639895162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/09/crazy-reaction.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3987400384639895162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3987400384639895162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/09/crazy-reaction.html' title='Crazy Reaction'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-3210566077405990455</id><published>2010-09-20T11:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T11:02:51.908-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nerd-A</title><content type='html'>All I have been doing is studying&lt;br /&gt;during the week when I dont have class I am sitting at my desk with food, a drink, and homework.&lt;br /&gt;I am really shooting for a 4.0 and if I dont get it...I better get close&lt;br /&gt;=0&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-3210566077405990455?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/3210566077405990455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/09/nerd.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3210566077405990455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3210566077405990455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/09/nerd.html' title='Nerd-A'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-935240812922328005</id><published>2010-09-19T08:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-19T08:49:11.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Its the Wrong Way</title><content type='html'>Part of me wishes I&amp;nbsp;wasn't&amp;nbsp;such a nice person.&lt;br /&gt;So that people&amp;nbsp;wouldn't&amp;nbsp;take advantage of my kindness.&lt;br /&gt;So people&amp;nbsp;wouldn't&amp;nbsp;think of me as&amp;nbsp;someone&amp;nbsp;reliable&lt;br /&gt;So that I am not expected to babysit or be a second mom to my siblings.&lt;br /&gt;Or let people down when you make mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;Because if I&amp;nbsp;wasn't&amp;nbsp;like that&lt;br /&gt;people&amp;nbsp;wouldn't&amp;nbsp;expect much of me anyway&lt;br /&gt;And when I let people down it&amp;nbsp;wasn't&amp;nbsp;such a hard hit, because they would have expected it.&lt;br /&gt;My siblings&amp;nbsp;wouldn't&amp;nbsp;think I was nasty or that I was being hard on them.&lt;br /&gt;When Luke and I hung out I&amp;nbsp;wouldn't&amp;nbsp;be so tired or&amp;nbsp;irritated and cranky towards him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am cried today because its not like that.&lt;br /&gt;I was upset because I don't want Luke to hate me.&lt;br /&gt;I am&amp;nbsp;aggravated&amp;nbsp;because Sarah still&amp;nbsp;doesn't&amp;nbsp;talk to him and shes 13.&lt;br /&gt;Its annoying because I feel like I spend most of my time trying to discipline Sarah and David when all I want to be is their sister.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-935240812922328005?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/935240812922328005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/09/its-wrong-way.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/935240812922328005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/935240812922328005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/09/its-wrong-way.html' title='Its the Wrong Way'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-6434773677384230454</id><published>2010-09-16T19:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T19:52:59.710-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Leap of Faith</title><content type='html'>I think a huge fault of mine is that I spend too much time thinking.&lt;div&gt;I examine and study the smallest details of life and it leaves me constantly in a torturous state of wonder. I do it with the past and I do it wondering about the future. And sometimes that&amp;nbsp;doesn't&amp;nbsp;leave much time for the present state that I am in constantly. I spend so much time watching and observing, the things people do, the things people say, what I do, what I say, why does it happen? Then I realize the present and I have endless options as to why and how. Sometimes the list is overbearing.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As of now, I have a lot of open windows. I feel awesome and ready to take a leap of faith. And now, the person I am&amp;nbsp;examining&amp;nbsp;is not me. And there are things that I have observed that I can get over. I cant help myself move past them. Because my whole idea of my future has been altered by the baggage this person comes with. And it&amp;nbsp;affects&amp;nbsp;me. I feel like Its something I need to overcome but there is no way to do it. So maybe its not me that needs to overcome it. Maybe its&amp;nbsp;someone&amp;nbsp;or something else. Maybe its time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will always be a thinker.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will always observe.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will always wonder why.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I will always take a leap of faith...for myself....and to make life a little more interesting that the day before....;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-6434773677384230454?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/6434773677384230454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/09/leap-of-faith.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/6434773677384230454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/6434773677384230454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/09/leap-of-faith.html' title='Leap of Faith'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-633584118375644052</id><published>2010-08-22T23:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-22T23:26:14.348-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Simple I Love You</title><content type='html'>I Love Luke!&lt;br /&gt;Thats all I wanted to say.&lt;br /&gt;Its just that simple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-633584118375644052?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/633584118375644052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/08/simple-i-love-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/633584118375644052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/633584118375644052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/08/simple-i-love-you.html' title='A Simple I Love You'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-6194409673426134395</id><published>2010-08-20T04:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-20T04:43:42.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blessed</title><content type='html'>I am so blessed and so fortunate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things have been nothing but crazy in the Welhous Family but things could always be worse. I just read my friends blog&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://monty-connections.blogspot.com/"&gt;Connections&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;and she had written an entry about how we should not add stressors to our life but and&amp;nbsp;benefactors. This is so true and it completely suits the&amp;nbsp;occasion. It is so easy to&amp;nbsp;think&amp;nbsp;of all the things that are going wrong and all the things that conflict your daily routine. But it is so much&amp;nbsp;healthier&amp;nbsp;and rewarding when you think of all the things you have going for you in life. All the positive influences and all the things we take for granted everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am on no way, shape, or form perfect and neither is my family. But I really wish that family as a whole would&amp;nbsp;function&amp;nbsp;that way. Focusing on the things that are important. Recognizing the things that help us and the people we take for granted. Everyone has scattered ways that they go about things. There is no communication. Everyone&amp;nbsp;complains&amp;nbsp;and talks about the things that they hate but we all speak before we listen and we all assume instead of communicating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are poor but we are enriched with love and family, no matter how small or large.&lt;br /&gt;We are stressed with hectic schedules but we have God and faith to get us through all the&amp;nbsp;little&amp;nbsp;moments that get us through the day.&lt;br /&gt;We never apologize and we say things that hit below the belt, but somehow we always forgive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this I say including myself. But when does it stop? When are we finally thankful?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-6194409673426134395?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/6194409673426134395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/08/blessed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/6194409673426134395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/6194409673426134395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/08/blessed.html' title='Blessed'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-2456264437538890712</id><published>2010-08-16T18:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-16T18:39:24.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tea, a Mountain View, And a Hand to Hold</title><content type='html'>I am currently in Vermont with Luke and my family. It is absolutely amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I had the strangest dream and the whole dream Luke was not in it. I was at this party and I was trying to leave but was having so many difficulties doing so. Someone was trying to talk to me and started trash talking Luke, asking me why was with Luke and not him. I wanted to leave but he kept ranting and I was trying to gather my stuff. Finally, Luke enters the house and calmy helps me gather my stuff and escorts me out of the house while the other guy was still ranting. Then as we were leaving the house I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;When I woke up it was around 7 am and it was just as Luke was leaving the bathroom which was right across the hall. I have never been so happy to see him. And what timing right?! We were just leaving the house...and he was just leaving the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so happy he's here. I am really looking forward to more Jacuzzi's and mountain bikes, Ben and Jerry's, tea on the patio, and food. Hahaha...we cant forget the food. He's my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I am so excited to show Christina what I got her.....and no...I am not slipping it out on here he he he....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-2456264437538890712?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/2456264437538890712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/08/tea-mountain-view-and-hand-to-hold.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/2456264437538890712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/2456264437538890712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/08/tea-mountain-view-and-hand-to-hold.html' title='Tea, a Mountain View, And a Hand to Hold'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-248580776302985393</id><published>2010-08-12T09:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-12T09:50:09.830-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Crashing World</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;Last night I had a crazy, nuts dream!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;It started that I was on&amp;nbsp;Long Island&amp;nbsp;and there was heavy rain that started to pour and drown certain areas of the world. &amp;nbsp; All the mountain areas started to crumble down. We all started to run...but we were all really fast and my family and I aslong as other families were crossing borders and trying to get to a place that wouldnt collapse.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;The whole time we were traveling I kept calling Luke to make sure him and his family were safe but we kept loosing connection. There were a few times I could speak to him, but it mostly over the phone and there was so much commotion going on I couldnt hear all the time.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;There came a point where we reach a tropical area and we all stopped and started to settle. We figured the world had finished changing and that it would be ok to stop. I still couldnt find Luke...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;The way we lived was much different. Our meals were really small because we had no money or even a place we could get any food. Most of the people we knew were helpless and didnt know how to start from scratch, hunt or farm. The dream ended with me looking for bread and my family trying to get electronics moving again.&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/8102906448964150597-248580776302985393?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/248580776302985393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/08/crashing-world.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/248580776302985393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/248580776302985393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/08/crashing-world.html' title='Crashing World'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-3242645989816145698</id><published>2010-08-11T07:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T07:42:51.823-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Humph</title><content type='html'>Last night I got sick again.&lt;br /&gt;I dont know how I walked to my fridge for an ice pack.&lt;br /&gt;I was nauseous to no end.&lt;br /&gt;But its all good and its all over for now.&lt;br /&gt;Until the next time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blagh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-3242645989816145698?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/3242645989816145698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/08/humph.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3242645989816145698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3242645989816145698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/08/humph.html' title='Humph'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-5787445761626449566</id><published>2010-08-06T21:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-06T21:28:17.852-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back Off</title><content type='html'>Apparently according to my mom:&lt;br /&gt;I dont clean the bathrooms unless I am told&lt;br /&gt;I dont clean the house&lt;br /&gt;I do things once in a blue moon&lt;br /&gt;I never watch my little brother or sister&lt;br /&gt;I dont watch my grandma when she cant&lt;br /&gt;I dont clean up after anyones mess&lt;br /&gt;I dont go out of my way to make things are clean when she gets home&lt;br /&gt;I dont volunteer to help her with things&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do in fact do all of this&lt;br /&gt;I have friends and family tell me how proud they are that I take care of my brother and sister.&lt;br /&gt;I have had "certain peoples" back when they need coverage.&lt;br /&gt;I take the time to help my mom take care of my grandma&lt;br /&gt;I always watch my siblings and clean up after messes they should know how to do.&lt;br /&gt;I go out of my way to help her out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IF I WAS NOT HERE. SHE WOULD BE LOST.&lt;br /&gt;IF MY FAMILY WASNT SO FORGIVING.....&lt;br /&gt;I cant tolerate anyone speaking to me the way she does anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-5787445761626449566?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/5787445761626449566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/08/back-off.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5787445761626449566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5787445761626449566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/08/back-off.html' title='Back Off'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-5521762279385459946</id><published>2010-08-03T22:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T22:59:30.134-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thin Line</title><content type='html'>Today I saw a cat get hit by a car.&lt;br /&gt;I was the eye&amp;nbsp;witness.&lt;br /&gt;I was crossing the street, but at the wrong time.&lt;br /&gt;It crossed just as the car was driving over its designated path.&lt;br /&gt;It got caught in the wheels and then&amp;nbsp;couldn't&amp;nbsp;move.&lt;br /&gt;Blood was pouring out of its neck and it started having spasms.&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;didn't&amp;nbsp;even know what to do.&lt;br /&gt;Luke came out just as I was running over to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watching that cat die made me realize how thin the line is.&lt;br /&gt;Its all the same.&lt;br /&gt;The line between life&amp;nbsp;and death, the line between love and hate, or the line between here and gone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-5521762279385459946?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/5521762279385459946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/08/thin-line.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5521762279385459946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/5521762279385459946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/08/thin-line.html' title='Thin Line'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-4178136461409762753</id><published>2010-08-03T06:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T06:30:46.876-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Eat Your Greens</title><content type='html'>I have headaches almost daily.&lt;br /&gt;But lately it seems whenever I do and I eat some type of green vegetable it all goes away!&lt;br /&gt;So kids...always add that something green to your dinner plate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-4178136461409762753?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/4178136461409762753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/08/eat-your-greens.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4178136461409762753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4178136461409762753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/08/eat-your-greens.html' title='Eat Your Greens'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-4527514643122690154</id><published>2010-07-31T14:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T14:16:17.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reoccurance</title><content type='html'>Its funny how you can have a random dream about someone you once knew and it&amp;nbsp;completely changes the way you look at them and the way you act around them. I wish dreams didnt effect me so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-4527514643122690154?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/4527514643122690154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/07/reoccurance.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4527514643122690154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4527514643122690154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/07/reoccurance.html' title='Reoccurance'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-1073604209736763230</id><published>2010-07-30T11:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-30T11:39:42.964-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Tail Bone Incident.</title><content type='html'>Today Luke through me in the pool.&lt;br /&gt;Rather, dragged me in with him and unintentionally I hurt my&amp;nbsp;tail bone&amp;nbsp;in his knee.&lt;br /&gt;Now I am going to be walking like an idiot and I'll be sore from running.&lt;br /&gt;Somehow I cant stop laughing about the whole thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-1073604209736763230?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/1073604209736763230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/07/tail-bone-incident.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1073604209736763230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1073604209736763230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/07/tail-bone-incident.html' title='The Tail Bone Incident.'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-2736372765298360729</id><published>2010-07-29T10:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-29T10:46:20.245-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Dream......</title><content type='html'>Last night I had another intense dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It began with Luke and I going on a trip somewhere. I cant remember where it was exactly, but after we parked the car Luke asked me to hold his ring that his father had given him, he&amp;nbsp;didn't&amp;nbsp;want to loose it. It was an old gold ring and had been in the family for generations. Luke had told me it had been used as an engagement ring numerous times. Then he made a joke about it and laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stopped in this restaurant/ pool hall. We saw some friends there and went to grab a table, but as we went to sit down people started screaming. Then we look outside and there were these men in black throwing rubber balls and random objects into the windows and into the restaurant. Some objects were meant to blow things up and the rubber balls, if they hit you, killed you. The first person to sit down at our table got hit with a rubber ball she got stun instantly and out of no where she began to get dragged outside from some mysterious force that these people or "beings" in black seemed to hold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luke and I hid under the table and ducked all the objects being thrown. But the people around us were dropping like flies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a while the throwing stopped. Luke and I tried to run but there were too many of them. But when they had entered the building they brought food in with them. They told us we were the survivors and we deserved the food. At first Luke and I ran over to the food and were rummaging through it because we were so hungry. The leader had past us and greeted us with no words. Then I had a unsettling feeling in my gut. I asked Luke "Why are they doing this? They just did some horrible things to the people in this building and this town, why are they giving us food instantly after? They must want us to feel comfortable and trust them so that the next attack they make will take us by surprise again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we tried to leave. But we&amp;nbsp;didn't&amp;nbsp;make it very far and we&amp;nbsp;weren't&amp;nbsp;the only ones who were suspicious. The more people tried to escape the more they started to kill. There was this one really large muscular man who started running past the trees of the little town we were in. The men in black all put out there hands and used their forces to drag him back, but while they were doing this other people started running and the men in black had to disperse. The leader was finally left trying to bring the muscular man back. Luke and I stood there watching this determined man run into the woods, past peoples homes and then into the middle of nowhere. The leader was so angry that his defeat was shown in front of everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he&amp;nbsp;assigned&amp;nbsp;us all tasks to do. They were&amp;nbsp;basically&amp;nbsp;random chores to us, such as building, cleaning and so on. It all started out that we were all mixed, but then they realized Luke and I were dating so they&amp;nbsp;separated&amp;nbsp;us. I was sent off to do cleaning and he was sent off to a building with other men. Not long after that the men in black started a game over in the mens building. Where every man was paired up with someone and they had to build something. If one of them failed both partners were killed. I&amp;nbsp;didn't&amp;nbsp;know about it until Luke tried to contact me. In my dream I think I answered my cell phone and looked out the window to his building. But I am not completely sure how I heard him. So I ran out of my building and climbed the side of his into his room. He had told me he needed help. His partner was missing or something and it was only him making the project. He said he wanted to make it extra good, so that maybe they'll see it and not kill him. I tried to help him and then their names were called. Luke walked out of the window onto this deck off of the room that he had been in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They saw he was alone and&amp;nbsp;sentenced&amp;nbsp;him to death. But I&amp;nbsp;immediately&amp;nbsp;jumped out saying "Take me!" I was crying so much, but not out of fear for my own death. But out of them about to kill Luke. They pulled Luke aside, and no matter how much he tried to pull away they were stronger. I began to explain why they should kill me instead, when one of them instantly in the middle of my speech ripped my necklace off of me that held my heart that my grandma gave me when I was young, a cross, and a heart Luke had given me a while back. As she did it, it stunned me and they thought I died. Which I almost did, but I&amp;nbsp;wasn't, I was pretty much knocked&amp;nbsp;unconscious&amp;nbsp;but could still hear everything that was going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After about 5 minutes they realized I&amp;nbsp;wasn't&amp;nbsp;dead. But instead of trying to shoot me they put my necklace inside a pit and tried shooting it until it broke and I died. But it&amp;nbsp;wouldn't&amp;nbsp;break. No matter how much they shot at it it&amp;nbsp;wouldn't&amp;nbsp;break. They even tried forcing Luke to shoot it but it&amp;nbsp;wouldn't&amp;nbsp;break, and he&amp;nbsp;wouldn't. Everyone backed away from the pit because they could feel a force their aside from their own. It was from a higher power. The leader remained bu the pit trying to keep shooting it, but it was too late. I woke up to this bright light and Luke standing next to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone had tried to recover what was left of the town, the man that escaped earlier had shown up. Saying how he escaped to another town and told the right "person". I went looking for&amp;nbsp;Luke's&amp;nbsp;engagement ring. But by that time I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-2736372765298360729?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/2736372765298360729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/07/another-dream.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/2736372765298360729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/2736372765298360729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/07/another-dream.html' title='Another Dream......'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-3763182371147710557</id><published>2010-07-28T11:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-29T10:57:08.415-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wednesday Atfernoon</title><content type='html'>Luke is so awesome.&lt;br /&gt;Everyday I spend with him just gets better and better.&lt;br /&gt;We laugh, we share, we grow.&lt;br /&gt;Things get crazy, but then we smile.&lt;br /&gt;We cant stay mad, because then we feel like something is missing.&lt;br /&gt;I think what I look forward to most is when he says something so dumb and then I say a sarcastic comment and then he just chuckles. &lt;br /&gt;I try to stay so sane! &lt;br /&gt;And not sound like a typical, hopeless, romantic girl.&lt;br /&gt;But the thing is, there nothing about us thats typical.&lt;br /&gt;Nothing makes us hopeless.&lt;br /&gt;We are just two people.&lt;br /&gt;Who enjoy each others company&lt;br /&gt;Who love seeing each other laugh, grow, and we encourage eachother to be accomplished.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-3763182371147710557?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/3763182371147710557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/07/wednesday-atfernoon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3763182371147710557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3763182371147710557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/07/wednesday-atfernoon.html' title='Wednesday Atfernoon'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-1135604031428085012</id><published>2010-07-25T12:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-25T12:40:03.985-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Heart Race</title><content type='html'>I know I probably lookd dumb in my converse instead of the old sneaks.&lt;br /&gt;And that I was wearing my pajama shorts instead of my under armer.&lt;br /&gt;And that it was quite apparent that I am not as fast as I used to be, and that I didnt have as much endurance.&lt;br /&gt;But I went for the most&amp;nbsp;magnificent&amp;nbsp;and&amp;nbsp;fulfilling&amp;nbsp;run today!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started thinking about when I ran cross country and the shape I was in and how I felt so good about myself. Then I started thinking about the time I cut 15 minutes off my race time for the 5k in 11th grade, and how my coach said I inspired him. Now he runs everyday since. Then I was thnking about how healthy I used to feel, especially when I was training for my pagent. But most of all, I missed the solitude and the runners high. It was my way of thinking and releasing. I need it back. Whether its running, or whatever. I need to get back to the mental and physical health I used to be in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-1135604031428085012?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/1135604031428085012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/07/heart-race.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1135604031428085012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1135604031428085012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/07/heart-race.html' title='Heart Race'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-8558044075263563879</id><published>2010-07-24T22:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-24T22:11:41.965-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Poker</title><content type='html'>Today I played poker for the first time with my brother, Luke, and some of my brothers friends. It was interesting. Pretty much I have a great grasp for how Poker is played and I understand it more. But on the other "hand" I lost Ten bucks. Hah.&lt;br /&gt;Overall it was pretty fun =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-8558044075263563879?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/8558044075263563879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/07/poker.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/8558044075263563879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/8558044075263563879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/07/poker.html' title='Poker'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-4901006949434633408</id><published>2010-07-21T09:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-21T09:44:49.430-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When it Rains it Pours</title><content type='html'>I am probably the biggest idiot.&lt;br /&gt;I say and do things I dont mean to or want to do.&lt;br /&gt;Things in my house seem to be like an overflowing river.&lt;br /&gt;Things outside my house are like a waterfall that flows into my river&lt;br /&gt;I want to pray to God for help to make things sane&lt;br /&gt;Or back to the way things were when I was 5 and curious&lt;br /&gt;Now I am older and I know&lt;br /&gt;And the more you know the more you fear&lt;br /&gt;And prayer should be your steering wheel not your spare tire.&lt;br /&gt;I feel as though I have been&amp;nbsp;misusing&amp;nbsp;prayer.&lt;br /&gt;I would love to be 5&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-4901006949434633408?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/4901006949434633408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/07/when-it-rains-it-pours.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4901006949434633408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/4901006949434633408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/07/when-it-rains-it-pours.html' title='When it Rains it Pours'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-3410319110118031071</id><published>2010-07-18T08:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-18T08:46:14.083-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Process</title><content type='html'>Last night Luke said he was so proud of us.&lt;br /&gt;He said he was proud of how our relationship gives and takes.&lt;br /&gt;How he is working hard to make himself stronger and how he loves how I am there for him.&lt;br /&gt;And how we stand by each other through the best and the worst.&lt;br /&gt;I couldnt help but start to cry because the whole point of it is.&lt;br /&gt;It can be so hard, but I love him.&lt;br /&gt;And without hope things must end.&lt;br /&gt;So we must have a lot of hope, faith, and courage to get this far and already have seen such highs and lows. To still cry when the other is hurt.&lt;br /&gt;To still feel so proud when the other person&amp;nbsp;succeeds.&lt;br /&gt;To still think that even though there are&amp;nbsp;other&amp;nbsp;people you can be attracted to, the beauty of the other person is still stronger.&lt;br /&gt;To smack them when they are being stupid.&lt;br /&gt;Or take the risk falling and rising together.&lt;br /&gt;To not know where your headed but accept the process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so proud of Luke Finley.&lt;br /&gt;He says I make him strong, but I have never grown so much with a person like I have over the past year with him.&lt;br /&gt;There is something about a person who is determined to make himself or herself &amp;nbsp;a better person.&lt;br /&gt;It cant go unnoticed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-3410319110118031071?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/3410319110118031071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/07/process.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3410319110118031071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/3410319110118031071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/07/process.html' title='Process'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102906448964150597.post-1178747846098249980</id><published>2010-07-15T11:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-15T11:54:57.502-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All People are Little Children</title><content type='html'>Im exhausted.&lt;br /&gt;I am sick of waking up in the middle of the night.&lt;br /&gt;Over nothing. Over sounds. Over phone calls.&lt;br /&gt;Im sick of updating my every movement with everyone who says they care.&lt;br /&gt;I realy would like to not here people complain about each other.&lt;br /&gt;Whether its a brother, a sister, a mother, a father, a husband, or a wife.&lt;br /&gt;I wish the yelling stopped.&lt;br /&gt;I wish the sickness stopped.&lt;br /&gt;I wish money was never an issue.&lt;br /&gt;I wish trust wasnt a lie all the time.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could trust more people.&lt;br /&gt;Im sick of the dreams I always have.&lt;br /&gt;Constantly comsuming my mind during the day and&amp;nbsp;obnoxiously&amp;nbsp;taking over my sleep.&lt;br /&gt;I want to stop waking up so tired.&lt;br /&gt;I want nights where I dont have to speak to anyone or do anything.&lt;br /&gt;I wish there were adults who acted like adults.&lt;br /&gt;I wish there were adults who werent so close minded.&lt;br /&gt;They are never wrong...right?&lt;br /&gt;Is it really selfish to want what should be the normal in life.&lt;br /&gt;I dont think so.&lt;br /&gt;I dont think people ever grow up.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone is a child, who whines and complains, and can never seek happiness, even in the smallest crack.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could see at least one person smile in my house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8102906448964150597-1178747846098249980?l=fwelhous.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/feeds/1178747846098249980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/07/all-people-are-little-children.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1178747846098249980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8102906448964150597/posts/default/1178747846098249980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fwelhous.blogspot.com/2010/07/all-people-are-little-children.html' title='All People are Little Children'/><author><name>Francesca Welhous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16082214287650693555</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PT9sdjkON6Q/SlE7KvFB18I/AAAAAAAABYw/JwtVMheGX1I/S220/head4.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
