<?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-18993227</id><updated>2011-11-25T00:39:49.998-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Yeah I'm odd, but...</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>29</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-5024100352608800981</id><published>2007-06-11T23:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-11T23:37:37.779-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The things Sarah taught me!</title><content type='html'>So I realized that a lot of the stuff I learned in the past two years is stuff I learned from Sarah.  You may be tired of hearing about her, but I'm not tired of writing about her.  So here is what I've learned from Sarah:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. You know you miss someone when every song you listen to reminds you of that someone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-5024100352608800981?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/5024100352608800981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=5024100352608800981' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/5024100352608800981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/5024100352608800981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2007/06/things-sarah-taught-me.html' title='The things Sarah taught me!'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-7460258371366682657</id><published>2007-06-09T15:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-09T16:00:51.133-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In the past two years I have...</title><content type='html'>I've been out of high school two years.  So I thought I'd make a list of things I've learned, done, etc. since high school.  Comment and add your own.  These are in kind of random order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. You can fit a whole lotta stuff in a tiny dorm room!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. If the sun is out, I'm 100x more likely to be in a good mood&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Naps are the highlight of my day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. The snack after the nap is pretty awesome too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I love mint tea&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. There is just as much drama in college as in high school, you just have to know where to look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Boyfriends are awesome, if you don't think so you have the wrong one!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Procrastinating does not make your papers any better, no matter how much you try and convince yourself that they do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. College is the best time of your life--You aren't living at home, you can still ask for money, and you get summers off!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Don't rush through college, the real world is hella scary!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Friends are the most important thing in the world.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Keep in touch with friends, where ever or whenever you made them it doesn't matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. No matter how much you hated high school, keep track of a few people from high school.   You'll thank yourself later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14.  People die.  It sucks.  It seems to make no sense.  And sooner or later someone you REALLY care about is going to die, and you're going to feel like a part of you died too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Hugs are freaking awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. If you don't like your family, or even if you do, find another family to call your own...people who love you because you're you, not because you're related to them are awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Try not to regret anything, no good will come of just regretting.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. Love--yourself, people, and life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Growing up really sucks sometimes, but everyone has to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More later!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-7460258371366682657?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/7460258371366682657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=7460258371366682657' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/7460258371366682657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/7460258371366682657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2007/06/in-past-two-years-i-have.html' title='In the past two years I have...'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-7208590284811672545</id><published>2007-06-01T22:10:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-01T22:39:45.108-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Weight Loss</title><content type='html'>So I've been trying to loose weight recently, and I think I'm finally starting to realize why weight loss is a multi-million dollar industry!  It's freaking HARD!  Everywhere you look food is taking over.  There are fast food restaurants everywhere, each one just as unhealthy as the next.  If you eat out a lot, be it fast food, or at a nice "healthy" sit down restaurant, you're going to gain weight eventually!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Atlanta Bread Company:&lt;br /&gt;My favorite saladhas 330 calories, and that's not including the 150 calories worth of dressing (for 2 tablespoons of dressing), they'll put 4 tablespoons on most salads.  The bread bowl that Matt always gets has a whopping 550 calories, and that's just for the bowl.  Add anywhere between 100 and 300 calories for the soup.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chick-Fil-A&lt;br /&gt;If you get a regular chicken sandwich, medium fries, and a medium lemonade you'll be injesting about 975 calories.  410 for the sandwich, 350 for the fries, and 220 for the lemonade.  You'll also be getting 1465 mg of sodium, thats 3/4 of what you're alloted in a day (which isn't a healthy amount to begin with!)  Add a milkshake for dessert and you'll be getting 750 more calories, and 600 mg of sodium!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Denny's&lt;br /&gt;3 buttermilk pancakes will run you about 420 calories, that's not including any syrup or butter.  Add 2 sausage patties for another 300 calories.  And of course you'll be injesting over 2000 mg of sodium.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even "cooking" at home is bad for you.  Frozen meals pack in the cholestorol and sodium, even the "healthy" ones.  Anything that comes from a can probably has more sodium than you're supposed to have in a day.  Anything lowfat probably has a whole lot of sugar added to it, and anything sugar free has a lot more fat than the other stuff.  Unless you're eating fresh vegetables and fruit and maybe some lean meat with no sauce, it seems like its going to be a TON of calories.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm only supposed to injest about 1,500 calories a day.  Going out to eat I can easily eat this in one meal.  Cooking, or dorm style microwave cooking isn't always much better.  If it's been processed, I might as well not eat it!  Since I'll have an apartment in the fall I'm going to try a LOT harder to eat healthy.  I'll cook in large quantities with fresh (or frozen) fruits and veggies.  The frozen veggies and fruit are awesome because they don't need to add a lot, but read the labels.  I'll freeze my leftovers, so I have my own microwave meals for when I'm in a crunch.  When I do eat out I'll do a lot of the same stuff I do now.  If you know where you're going, check online for nutrition facts and find healthier things that you will enjoy.  I rarely eat my whole meal when I go out to eat, and I'll often grab a healthier snack and eat it on the way out the door.  I heard a tip to ask for a to go box right when you get your food, so you can put away some before you start eating, so you don't accidently eat more than you should.  I'm not going to deprive myself of food, in fact I really enjoy eating healthier.  I'm just going to pay a whole lot more attention to what I eat!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck!  Give me tips!  Tell me I look gorgeous!  Steal some of my food!  Bring me fresh fruits and veggies!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-7208590284811672545?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/7208590284811672545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=7208590284811672545' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/7208590284811672545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/7208590284811672545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2007/06/weight-loss.html' title='Weight Loss'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-8285883344645323948</id><published>2007-05-28T20:33:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-28T20:34:31.171-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lyrics</title><content type='html'>I was cleaning and I heard this Weezer song.  Made me think about Sarah, too bad it's too late to tell her.  But here goes anyway"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weezer: "Best Friend"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When everything is wrong I'll come talk to you&lt;br /&gt;You make things alright when I'm feeling blue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are such a blessing and I wont be messing&lt;br /&gt;With the one thing that brings light to all of my darkness&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're my best friend&lt;br /&gt;and I love you, and I love you&lt;br /&gt;Yes I do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no other one who can take your place&lt;br /&gt;I feel happy inside when I see your face&lt;br /&gt;I hope you believe me&lt;br /&gt;Cause I speak sincerely&lt;br /&gt;and I mean it when I tell you that I need you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're my best friend&lt;br /&gt;and I love you, and I love you&lt;br /&gt;Yes I do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm here right beside you&lt;br /&gt;I will never leave you&lt;br /&gt;and I feel the pain you feel when you start crying&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're my best friend&lt;br /&gt;and I love you, and I love you&lt;br /&gt;Yes I do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're my best friend&lt;br /&gt;and I love you, and I love you&lt;br /&gt;Yes I do&lt;br /&gt;Yes I do...&lt;br /&gt;Yes I do&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-8285883344645323948?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/8285883344645323948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=8285883344645323948' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/8285883344645323948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/8285883344645323948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2007/05/lyrics.html' title='Lyrics'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-3848573670954336115</id><published>2007-05-22T22:46:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-22T22:59:55.454-05:00</updated><title type='text'>For my Sarah</title><content type='html'>So I haven't posted on here in FOREVER.  But I just need to vent right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Tuesday, March 27 2007 my best friend Sarah died.  I've never been one to deal with death well, and this is just too much to deal with.  I still can't go a day without thinking about Sarah.  I cry inside constantly, just thinking about her.  Right now I'm crying so much, it's hard to even put it into words.  &lt;br /&gt;Sarah was the most amazing person I've ever known.  She had the sweetest, most gorgeous blue eyes.  She was amazingly smart and talented.  When you heard her play her flute, it was as if a goddess was playing.  Sarah was always there for me.  She let me complain about silly stuff like school while she had real life issues to deal with.  I remember sending her a message about a month complaining about how I didn't really have any good friends except her, especially female ones.  She reponded that since being in the hospital she could really see who her friends were.  Sarah was a best friend to many.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not sure what else to say right now so here is what I said about Sarah at her memorial service at her university one month after her death:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember Sarah as an amazingly dedicated, intelligent, and silly person.  But most of all I remember her as an amazing friend.  Although our paths crossed many times growing up in Auburn, Sarah and I never really knew each other until high school.  We got to know each other through band, BEST robotics, and various classes we took together.  I remember in band class we would always make faces at each other and goof off until class started, you could always count on Sarah to make you laugh!  In BEST Sarah was always around when you needed her, she was the one that was always there helping with the bake sales during Auburn games, even in the rain.  Sarah was dedicated to all her studies.  She managed to graduate with every honor possible from Auburn High, despite missing over half of Spring Semester our Junior year.  She was dedicated to everything she did never letting illness or anything else get in her way.&lt;br /&gt;My friendship with Sarah really grew out of her illness.  When she first got sick I would go visit her in the hospital almost every day after school.   We would hang out and talk, watch movies, play games, and just have fun.  I would spend hours with Sarah each day, not leaving until my parents called wondering if I was ever coming home.  Sarah and I continued hanging out as often as we could throughout high school.  Our senior year she joined the Youth Orchestra that I was in, so we started making the commute each week together, giving us more time to hang out and of course more time to make faces at each other during practice.  After high school Sarah and I both went off to different schools, but we sent each other messages on facebook constantly.  Whenever we were both home we would get together for food and board games.  &lt;br /&gt; Sarah taught me a great deal over these past few years.  She taught me to appreciate a good pedicure, especially if it involved red nail polish.  She taught me to be strong, and to let nothing ever get in my way.  And she taught me the value of friendship.  A good friend is the most amazing gift anyone could receive.   &lt;br /&gt;I was fortunate enough to be able to spend my Spring break with Sarah in the Hospital.  It was just like old times, watching movies, playing board games, and eating take out.  The day after I left Sarah called me.   She told me with great excitement in her voice “Kat, kat you brought me good luck, I’m getting a heart!”  I got to tell her I loved her, and hear her so excited about getting a heart.  I will always remember Sarah just like I remember my last conversation with her.  I will remember her love, and her happiness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-3848573670954336115?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/3848573670954336115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=3848573670954336115' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/3848573670954336115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/3848573670954336115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2007/05/for-my-sarah.html' title='For my Sarah'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-114216524547496202</id><published>2006-03-12T06:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-12T06:07:25.516-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Movey Movey bloggy bloggy</title><content type='html'>I've moved my blog to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://web.mac.com/kvansanten/iWeb/Site/Blog/Blog.html&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and I just did an awesome blog entry and the program crashed, SUCK!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-114216524547496202?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/114216524547496202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=114216524547496202' title='20 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/114216524547496202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/114216524547496202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2006/03/movey-movey-bloggy-bloggy.html' title='Movey Movey bloggy bloggy'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>20</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-114154730876431022</id><published>2006-03-05T02:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-05T02:28:28.780-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Yesterday was today was Tuesday was now</title><content type='html'>Do you ever feel like life is speeding past you, but going really slowly all at the same time?  Nowdays I'm so busy all I can do is try to remember to breathe.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went with Lindsey to pick up Maria from work today.  Maria said she has worked about 40 hours this week.  That's like full time.  I don't understand how she can do that and school!?   I don't understand how she can do all that and still be standing there in one piece, when I feel like I'm being blown away by life.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My day today has pretty much consisted of the day of a housewife.  My alarm went off at 10 but I felt REALLY icky so I went back to sleep and thought I set my alarm for 11, but woke up on my own at 12.  I spent a good 2 hours folding laundry that I had done the night before (4 FULL loads).  Then I made lunch and did dishes etc.  Then I went and played Frisbee for a bit with some of the crew (matt brought is little brother.)  After the forgiveness I went to target and got stuff to make spaghetti for dinner.  I made spaghetti (with my super sauce of course) and garlic bread for Greg, Steve, Matt, Michael, and Me.  And Matt only spent 20 bucks on it (Oh yeah that's 4 bucks a person, beat that!)  They played around on Quake and did other stuff, basically having a mini-mini lan.  And then I cleaned up and talked etc.  So today I've done Sooooooo much, but accomplished so little.  It's really quite depressing.  It's like housewife to the max!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want life to slow down, and I want more free time.  When you don't even have time to sleep on the weekends you know life is rough!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-114154730876431022?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/114154730876431022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=114154730876431022' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/114154730876431022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/114154730876431022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2006/03/yesterday-was-today-was-tuesday-was.html' title='Yesterday was today was Tuesday was now'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-114140651138247188</id><published>2006-03-03T11:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-03T11:21:51.403-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorority Girl Bashing...</title><content type='html'>I'm sitting in Chemistry today trying to pay attention.  That class is soooo boring, it takes way more effort to attempt to pay attention than it does to read the book.  So my eyes are wandering around a little bit, looking at the pregnant girl next to me to see if she's popped yet, watching late people walk in etc.  Theres a sorority girl that always sits in front of me with her dumb-as-a-board guy friend.  He's your classic hip type that always sounds about like this "Doah, let's go get us some huntin' ya'll, uuuuuuuh."  She's a highly unnatural shade of brown.  Girls at my high school loved tanning beds, and looked unnatural, but this girl is just BROWN, if it weren't for her hair you would almost think she was indian.  And she's already wrinkly.  Anyway, she's wearing this sorority shirt that says:&lt;br /&gt;"We didn't come to college to find out husbands...we came to find out bridesmaids."  And then it had DZ at the bottom.  So my reaction is hmmm I could think of so many things to add after that that would just make it bad.  So here are a few of my favorites.  Add some of your own in the comments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't come to college to find out husbands...we came to find out bridesmaids:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But our lives still revolve around marriage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husbands, yes, we intend to have at least 3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The few of the girls that didn't sleep with our husbands first.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-114140651138247188?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/114140651138247188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=114140651138247188' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/114140651138247188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/114140651138247188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2006/03/sorority-girl-bashing.html' title='Sorority Girl Bashing...'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-114124627200582259</id><published>2006-03-01T14:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-01T14:51:12.020-06:00</updated><title type='text'>No good, very bad day</title><content type='html'>It's been a no good, very bad day.  I woke up later than I had intended to.  I set my alarm for 7 but didn't get up till 8.  I had intended to study for my calculus makeup test.  I ended up checking on lindsey because she's sick, and then trying to figure out what is wrong with her.  I called my mom to ask her what she thought and I didn't leave for class until 10 minutes after it had already started.  Class was fine, but I had to sit in the very back because I came in super late.  My makeup test was a bust, I'm horrible at tests, and it sucks.  I can do it all fine during HW etc.  But I get to the test and it's like hmmm I thought I knew that but I guess not!  I came back and checked on Lindsey and found out that the health center on campus gave her a speech on exercising and some decongestants, NOT what they were supposed to do.  No surprise really, but still highly irking.  Then Matt showed up with flowers and Mutemath tickets which was awesome.  But while I was making us lunch he decided to yell at me, so of course we had a fight.  First fight....yay....not.  So I ended up not feeding him and he left about 40 minutes before he normally does.  Just because you bring me flowers doesn't mean you're allowed to treat me like crap.  Some people have said he's probably just stressed.  All I have to say about that is that my last boyfriend broke up with me because he was "stressed" and didn't want to have anything to do with me.  So maybe I'll be single again soon...I knew I couldn't make it past the 3 1/2 month mark.  Since I didn't feed Matt lunch I didn't eat lunch either.  Normally I eat about every 2 hours but I haven't had anything since my bowl of cereal this morning at 8.  So I haven't eaten for about 7 hours.  But I don't really want to.  It'll save some money at least, I don't have the money to eat.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm sitting here in my horribly messy room listening to the water of madison's shower (I wonder how many she's had today.)  I'm still so frustrated from programming that I'm practically shaking.  I'm the kind of person who gets REALLY frustrated if she can't do something.  And I was on the brink of tears near the end of it.  And now I think I might just sit here and stare at the wall for the next hour or so, until band time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully life will get better. "After all ... tomorrow is another day."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-114124627200582259?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/114124627200582259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=114124627200582259' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/114124627200582259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/114124627200582259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2006/03/no-good-very-bad-day.html' title='No good, very bad day'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-114105818475717625</id><published>2006-02-27T10:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-27T10:36:24.840-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Yay Missing Home!</title><content type='html'>For those of you who never knew the pre-college me, I've changed a lot since I got to college, and not necessarily for the better.  In high school I was very involved.  I ran my robotics team, and was active in math team, did all the bands and a few other dorky things.  I also did a lot of church things.  I was the only kid in my year in youth group that was actually involved.  I was in choir, on youth council, on the pastor search committee and many other things (wow I sound like the prick who had to be the best at everything!)  Yes, near the end of high school I had serious depression issues, but overall I had a good life.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I feel like parts of me are missing.  I miss robotics tons, it was my life....and now it's gone.  Math team was amazing, especially the Hawaii trip ending it all.  My math team coach isn't even at my high school anymore, he got a job at Vestavia (traitor!), so none of it is the same.  I miss band, a good band, a real life-sized band.  My high school band was one of the best in the state, I got used to that sound and that attitude.  Now band is about trying not to cry when the trumpets sound like geese, sometimes worse than geese.  We're such a small group, and such a sucky group at that, it's hard to enjoy it.  &lt;br /&gt;I miss my church tons.  Here I end up going to church with Matt all the time, and not really so much for church but for the family time.  He goes to a contemporary service, and I get the feeling that none of the rest of his family really wants to be there either.  The congregation is so big that there's no way it can really become what my church at home was to me, my family.  I've tried going to other churches, but none of them felt right.  This is the way it will probably always be though, nothing will feel like it fits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that a lot of this has to do with the fact that I never moved when I was growing up.  I moved to Auburn when I was 1 1/2 years old, and never moved (even to a different house) until I came to college.  I knew everything in Auburn, it was all so familiar.  I had my comfort zone all around me.  It was a great environment to grow up in.  I had a place I belonged, and never had to find a whole new place.  But maybe it would have been easier to cope if I had had to do that just once.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hated it all so much when it was right there all around me, so why do I miss it so much now that it's gone?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-114105818475717625?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/114105818475717625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=114105818475717625' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/114105818475717625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/114105818475717625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2006/02/yay-missing-home.html' title='Yay Missing Home!'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-114063842292227777</id><published>2006-02-22T13:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-22T14:00:23.046-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Why females make horrible friends</title><content type='html'>Why females make horrible friends:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Each one of them has that special time of the month where they are just bitchy to everyone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-They get jelous when you spend too much time with a single person that isn't them, but then turn around and do the exact same thing to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-They fight dirty&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Secretly (or sometimes openly) they criticize everything and everyone around them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-DRAMA DRAMA DRAMA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-They expect people to understand all their problems, but never understand anyone else's&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-They take sides way to easily&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-114063842292227777?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/114063842292227777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=114063842292227777' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/114063842292227777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/114063842292227777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2006/02/why-females-make-horrible-friends.html' title='Why females make horrible friends'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-114054244729663145</id><published>2006-02-21T11:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-21T11:20:47.326-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Who says you have to be pregnant?</title><content type='html'>Who says you have to be pregnant to have weird food cravings.  Maybe they just get weirder if you are pregnant.  If this is the case, I pray for anyone who has to deal with a pregnant me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the cravings I've had this week:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TCBY (I'm always craving TCBY)&lt;br /&gt;Pickles&lt;br /&gt;Cream cheese and tomato bagel (but I don't have any of the ingediants!)&lt;br /&gt;Cheese!&lt;br /&gt;Marzipan&lt;br /&gt;Ramen&lt;br /&gt;Limes&lt;br /&gt;Grits (That's what I really want right now, and not the instant stuff)&lt;br /&gt;Blueberry Pancakes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you crave?.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-114054244729663145?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/114054244729663145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=114054244729663145' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/114054244729663145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/114054244729663145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2006/02/who-says-you-have-to-be-pregnant.html' title='Who says you have to be pregnant?'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-114033111766880728</id><published>2006-02-19T00:23:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-19T00:38:37.680-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Angry Blog Post</title><content type='html'>Tonight has been a very very angry night.  I was supposed to go dancing with Matt but because of the weather the dance got canceled.  That's understandable, just a bit annoying because we had to change plans.  Then we were supposed to go to a party in NCRH.  It got canceled because of the weather because none of the "important" people were going to show up.  Nevermind that half the people coming lived in NCRH.  And of course the host of the party went out to hang out with a special friend.  Which makes perfect sense.  Cancel a party because the roads are bad....and THEN go out on the roads.  Then we decided we were going to watch a movie in the multi purpose room since it had been reserved for this party anyway.  About 6 people showed interest.  So we decided to watch the movie.  Matt and I were there, and Greg showed up.  A bunch of other people decided to go to a lame pirate themed frat party, and came back and said it sucked, and of course they reeked of smoke.  The main person who said she was going to come down there with her sister flaked out and said she was just going to hang out with her sister.  So I walk in later and of course there's more people there, and they're watching a movie.  Why they couldn't be downstairs watching a movie I don't know!!!!  I ended up not watching the first half of the movie because I was so filled with rage that I cleaned and organized like a mad woman.  After the movie we decided to make cinnamon rolls.  But then Greg left so I was like WTF I'm not making cinnamon rolls for two people.  &lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of people flaking out!  I don't care if you don't want to hang out with me.  Just say it to my face.  Don't make plans and break them.  Everyone is seeming to be as bad as this one couple that I know that routinely claims they are going somewhere and don't show up, and give absolutely no reason why they flake out.  &lt;br /&gt;At this point I'm ready to go back to Auburn.  Yes I hated it there, but I'm beginning to hate it here too!  And frankly it's cheaper to live in Auburn and hate my life.  &lt;br /&gt;Time to go punch a few walls now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-114033111766880728?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/114033111766880728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=114033111766880728' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/114033111766880728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/114033111766880728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2006/02/angry-blog-post.html' title='Angry Blog Post'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-114015426175193908</id><published>2006-02-16T23:21:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-16T23:33:35.250-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I love</title><content type='html'>Things I love:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whitman's samplers, pretty sunsets, headache free days, laughing, swinging, days just for me, cool breezes, pictures, my auburn teddy bear, hugs, notes on my mirror, music, sunshine, comments on my blog, fruit plates, spring days, snuggling, starry nights, shiny things, babies, coffeeshops, mani/pedicures, windows, cake, my Matt, tea, stress-free days, traveling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you love?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-114015426175193908?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/114015426175193908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=114015426175193908' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/114015426175193908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/114015426175193908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2006/02/things-i-love_16.html' title='Things I love'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-113860241589896279</id><published>2006-01-30T02:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T00:26:55.923-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day Deux</title><content type='html'>When I woke up this morning I looked at my wrist, utterly confused, and wondered why the heck there was a wrist brace on it. Then I remembered all the pain and the exhaustion from yesterday. Somehow, I managed to take off my finger split in the night so the first thing I had to do was look for that. Thankfully it was still on my bed and not in the depths below it. (I remember taking off my headgear and retainers in my sleep nightly and having to dig for them in the morning. It sucked majority.) I was hoping that a night of sleep would make my hand feel much better, but it still hurts like crap (editors note, what does crap feel like anyway?) The ten hours of sleep did do the rest of my body a lot of good but my hand decided to revolt and feel worse than the day before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until you injure one of your hands, you don't realize how much you use them for. Trying to use one hand for everything, especially your left hand if you're right handed is very frustrating and taxing. I had to get help opening jars, doing my laundry, making my bed, and even getting dressed (editors note, weeee!) When ever I'm hurt I always get REALLY frustrated at my body. Normally I just can't walk well, which is stressing in itself but my hand is also very, very annoying. I used to think having my legs messed up would be worse then having an arm or a hand messed up. But now I can't even write or type (except with one hand). I don't know how I'm going to get through all my classes. I was suppose to have a paper due tomorrow morning but thankfully I got an extension on that. I have a Calculus test Wednesday that I probably won't be able to take. Calculus is very hard to dictate to people. I feel like a helpless little kid again. A few people have said this would be a good time to be ambidextrous but it's a lot harder than they think. I did learn how to throw a frisbee with my left hand today with Greg and Steve and Matt. I think I throw better then Steve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure there's some great lesson I'm supposed to learn from all of this. I guess I have learned some. My friends have been here to help me with pretty much everything. Lindsey gave up her whole day yesterday to chase after doctors with me. Steve helped Matt make my bed and Matt folded all my laundry and did my dishes. My friends are here for me even when my parents are not (they are in Germany and I haven't heard from them since I sent them an email telling them what I did, or even since they got to Germany.) Hopefully all this pain will end soon because I'm already overly frustrated with it all and I haven't even had to go to class yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope the week ends soon without me doing too much damage to myself or getting too far behind in my classes!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-113860241589896279?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/113860241589896279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=113860241589896279' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113860241589896279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113860241589896279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2006/01/day-deux.html' title='Day Deux'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-113849086341203259</id><published>2006-01-28T19:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-28T17:27:43.440-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ouch!!</title><content type='html'>So yeah, I'm not typing this because I can't (thanks Lindsey-she really did say that). This afternoon I got a little excited and decided to run into a doorframe. And of course, living in the dorms, we have big supersized metal doorframes. Soo...I called Lindsey and of course she's just gotten out of the shower. Yay timing! She comes down here to look at my very blue hand. We're both not familiar with Huntsville, so we have no clue where to go to get my hand looked at. An hour later, armed with a new phonebook and a new map, we finally end up at an urgent care place in South Huntsville. 2 hours later we find out that I haven't broken anything, but I basically sprained my whole hand. Now, I'm on Loratab and some anti-inflammatory which in combination make me very loopy (yes, she's very fun to be around and sure as heck not getting near a car to drive). I also got a fancy wrist brace and a splint for my finger so it looks like I'm constantly flicking everyone off. I was supposed to spend the afternoon writing a paper that's due Monday. But instead.... (there went her brain again). Yay words! Yay drugs! Weeeee!!! So anyway, but instead I spent the whole afternoon chasing doctors. I don't think any homework is getting done today. Me and my designated driver (that's me!) are headed back to South Huntsville to Matt's parents' house to hang out tonight. Posts are so much more fun when you're drugged. Leave happy comments!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-113849086341203259?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/113849086341203259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=113849086341203259' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113849086341203259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113849086341203259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2006/01/ouch.html' title='Ouch!!'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-113832907461502242</id><published>2006-01-26T22:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-26T20:31:14.666-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I never post!</title><content type='html'>I've been getting sick recently.  It's highly unfun.  Today I took a 3 1/2 hour nap, it was amazing, but I woke up highly gross.  I wish I had more time to be sick.  I have a calculus test Wednesday.  And an English paper due Monday (ewwwwwww!).  I think I'm taking too many classes, because I'm getting beaten by all of them.  But I'm trying to hang in there.  No single class is too hard, just the combination of them all isn't very much fun. And now it's time for Calculus to go kick my butt.  Yay for infinite limits....they're just EXCITING! Sometimes I wish I could take one class at a time, for like a month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love this song, just thought I'd share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working all day for a mean little man&lt;br /&gt;With a clip-on tie and a rub-on tan&lt;br /&gt;He's got me running 'round the office like a dog around a track&lt;br /&gt;But when I get home,&lt;br /&gt;You're always there to rub my back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey Julie,&lt;br /&gt;Look what they're doing to me&lt;br /&gt;Trying to trip me up&lt;br /&gt;Trying to wear me down&lt;br /&gt;Julie, I swear, it's so hard to bear it&lt;br /&gt;And I'd never make it through without you around&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hours on the phone making pointless calls&lt;br /&gt;I got a desk full of papers that means nothing at all&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I catch myself staring into space&lt;br /&gt;Counting down the hours 'til I get to see your face&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey Julie,&lt;br /&gt;Look what they're doing to me&lt;br /&gt;Trying to trip me up&lt;br /&gt;Trying to wear me down&lt;br /&gt;Julie, I swear, it's so hard to bear it&lt;br /&gt;And I'd never make it through with out you around&lt;br /&gt;No, I'd never make it through with out you around&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Bridge]&lt;br /&gt;How did it come to be&lt;br /&gt;That you and I must be&lt;br /&gt;Far away from each other every day?&lt;br /&gt;Why must I spend my time&lt;br /&gt;Filling up my mind&lt;br /&gt;With facts and figures that never add up anyway?&lt;br /&gt;They never add up anyway&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working all day for a mean little guy&lt;br /&gt;With a bad toupee and a soup-stained tie&lt;br /&gt;He's got me running 'round the office&lt;br /&gt;Like a gerbil on a wheel&lt;br /&gt;He can tell me what to do&lt;br /&gt;But he can't tell me what to feel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey Julie,&lt;br /&gt;Look what they're doing to me&lt;br /&gt;Trying to trip me up&lt;br /&gt;Trying to wear me down&lt;br /&gt;Julie, I swear, it's so hard to bear it&lt;br /&gt;And I'd never make it through with out you around&lt;br /&gt;No, I'd never make it through without you around&lt;br /&gt;No, I'd never make it through with out you around&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-113832907461502242?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/113832907461502242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=113832907461502242' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113832907461502242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113832907461502242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2006/01/i-never-post.html' title='I never post!'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-113712755518264315</id><published>2006-01-12T22:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-12T22:45:55.196-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm not good enough for a title</title><content type='html'>Bad day, blowing up at people for no reason.  It's all just too much.  No time to study because I have to go grocery shopping, or clean my room, or clean other people's room.  Not wanting to be around anyone....just want to be alone.  Just want to sleep, or eat.  Gunna drop out, gunna run away.  Maybe I can go work at mcdonalds or sell my body to the streets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emo Kat Out!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-113712755518264315?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/113712755518264315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=113712755518264315' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113712755518264315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113712755518264315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2006/01/im-not-good-enough-for-title.html' title='I&apos;m not good enough for a title'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-113690260131582088</id><published>2006-01-10T10:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T08:16:41.330-06:00</updated><title type='text'>1 Down, way too many still to go</title><content type='html'>First day of classes was yesterday.  I woke up with a headache (but that's nothing new.)  Caculus at 9 am wasn't that bad except that there is a deaf girl in my class, so there is a lady sitting up there doing sign language the whole time.  I've always been fascinated by sign language, so it is highly distracting.  Hmmmm i wonder what the sign for exponent is.  Chemistry is going to suck I can already tell.  I don't like the professor's teaching style, and I fell asleep....ON THE FIRST DAY!  After lunch I had programming which seemed pretty harmless.  My professor is out of the country and couldn't get a flight back until next week, so we had a sub, but he was really cool.  I think this class might not be THAT bad.  Honors English however is going to suck.  There are only 9 people in the class, and I might be the only honors person in the class.  Everyone else in the class is like "YAY ENGLISH" and I'm just sitting there thinking shoot me.  I so wanted to sleep in that class too...can I use the excuse that I'm still jet lagged?  After English was Jazz band.  Yeah.....I SUCK!  I made a complete fool out of myself the whole time.  I know I don't belong there, and that I'm the worst player.  Not playing for 3 weeks didn't help the trouble I was already having.  And my braces were being a pain in the butt too.  Lindsey and I ate dinner and then looked at some apartment stuff.  Then I layed down in my bed to read and passed out.  I slept solid for about 2 hours and didn't remember anything.  Matt came by twice and I still barely remember any of that.  Some of us went to go visit Greg just to get out of the dorm.  They have nice big rooms, but the apartment overall is pretty depressing.  It all looks so cold and drab, and there's not a whole lot you can do to spruce it up.  &lt;br /&gt;Already feeling emo about life, and feeilng like I don't fit in anywhere.  Someone basically attacked me last night for trying to be helpful...I give up on helping people, I'll just be a bitch like the rest of the world now.  &lt;br /&gt;Hoping today goes better....And that this semester doesn't completely suck&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-113690260131582088?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/113690260131582088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=113690260131582088' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113690260131582088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113690260131582088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2006/01/1-down-way-too-many-still-to-go.html' title='1 Down, way too many still to go'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-113616258801481601</id><published>2006-01-01T17:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T18:43:08.973-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Times they are a changin'</title><content type='html'>So I haven't posted in about 2 weeks.  I keep meaning to post, but somehow I either think the post is going to be too short or too long.  I want to summarize everything that's going on.  But I can't!  Soooo I'll just do one of those here's what's going on in Kat's mind right now.  All VERY random!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Aunt and Uncle and their two kids and the boyfriend from the girl were over here today.  Ester is 14 now and has grown like 6 inches since I last saw her.  She looks really grown up compared to the last time I saw her.  Her hair is really short (like almost a boy cut) and I'm highly considering REALLY chopping off my hair.  Maybe also doing a little something crazier with my hair.  It's almost getting too boring.  She brought her boyfriend along on the trip to Berlin with her family.  He started out as a pen pal and now they're dating.  I personally don't think 14 year olds should date but you know, times are changing...pretty soon having pregnant 12 year olds will be the norm.  Her mother really doesn't like this guy and I can see why.  He was hanging all over Ester the whole time.  Even a couple times she basically told him to get off her and he wouldn't.  No mother wants to see a guy hanging all over her 14 year old daughter.  WAY TOO MUCH PDA!  Plus he's a pompous little ass.  He lives in southern Germany though (over 6 hours away from her) so I doubt much will come of this little relationship.    &lt;br /&gt;Their super-pda made me think about pda between brimstone and I.  I hope that it's not too much.  Most of the time we're just goofing off, and messing around.  I know I wouldn't be all pda in front of his parents though, or mine for that matter.  I mean a little hugging, a little "hey we really do like each other" but not much more than that.  But then again, I'm also not 14, and neither is brim.&lt;br /&gt;Continuing on about my cousins, one of my cousins just got engaged.  She's 20 now I think, which seems really young.  But she's been dating this guy for forever, and they're already living together.  Plus as my dad put it "Engagement in Germany isn't like engagement in the U.S.  In Germany you place an option and keep looking."  So they aren't setting a date for the wedding or anything, but it's still weird.  She's right above me in age order of my bajillion cousins.  My other cousin (who is 24ish) is expecting another child.  His girlfriend got pregnant about 2 years ago and through sheer stupidy and blindness to the truth she didn't find out until a week before she had the child.  So they ended up getting married when their daughter was about a year old.  And now they're pregnant again.  As my brother's girlfriend said "Someone needs to tell them that they aren't catholic!"  It seems that everyone's relationships are going to that point.  My sister and her boyfriend are living together for a little over a year.  My brother is graduating from college in June and then moving in with his girlfriend who will be in graduate school in the U.S. for a year.  Sometimes your relationship just seems really insignificant doesn't it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look I just posted a soap opera.  Oh well!  At least I posted something!  Six more days until I'm back in Huntsville where I belong!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAPPY 2006!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-113616258801481601?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/113616258801481601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=113616258801481601' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113616258801481601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113616258801481601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2006/01/times-they-are-changin.html' title='Times they are a changin&apos;'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-113477015878242506</id><published>2005-12-16T15:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-16T15:55:58.796-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The things we'll pay for</title><content type='html'>For those of you who don't know I'm on my way to Germany today.  The trip hasn't been great so far but it hasn't been horrible either.  But it's not even halfway over yet, so there is still plenty of time to mess up.  I paid 10 bucks to t-mobile just to have internet.  I think I'm addicted!  It's funny what we pay for.  I know females spend a lot of money on clothes and beautification products.  Do we really need all this.  I've noticed especially how much I used to spend when I lived under my parents roof.  I'd buy some new clothes every month.  Have 3 different kinds of shampoo and conditioner and facewash.  I still enjoy all those things, and still spend a lot of my paren'ts money, which is bad.  Maybe I should stop eating so much, and stop shopping.  I feel bad when people buy me gifts etc.  I don't really want people to spend money on me, and I don't really like spending my own money.  It's just a delimma isn't it!?!&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully this trip to germany will be a good one.  My German is really bad right now though, so I'm going to sound like a complete fool!  I'm excited about getting to see my famly and all though.  I'll miss everyone at school, more than I ever missed people in Auburn.  I guess living with people, and always seeing them does that to you.  &lt;br /&gt;Send me your address if you'd like a postcard!&lt;br /&gt;Off to the motherland!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-113477015878242506?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/113477015878242506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=113477015878242506' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113477015878242506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113477015878242506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2005/12/things-well-pay-for.html' title='The things we&apos;ll pay for'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-113415391587103139</id><published>2005-12-09T12:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-09T12:45:15.886-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The long road of life...</title><content type='html'>Do you ever get to that point where you just want to run away from your problems?  Where even the people you thought were closest to you turn, and for no apparent reason completely change and all you can do is sit there and look confused.  Then you begin to question everyone and everything in your life.  You know you aren't understood, and know that you never will be.  Most of you doesn't care what other people think about you, but there is that small part of you that just wants to find a few people that do understand you, maybe even that one person who understands you more than everyone else.  And then you wake up and realize that this will never happen, no one will ever understand you, and so you continue to walk the dark road of life alone, with only your thoughts to accompany you on the long journey.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-113415391587103139?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/113415391587103139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=113415391587103139' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113415391587103139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113415391587103139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2005/12/long-road-of-life.html' title='The long road of life...'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-113362967812120519</id><published>2005-12-03T13:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-03T11:07:58.326-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wishing the semester would end...</title><content type='html'>My first real semester of college is over in a week and a half and while I'm super excited about that I can't help but feel that I've utterly failed at it all.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As far as classes and such go I'm not really taking all that much, only 2 real classes because I dropped programming *shakes fist at visual basic* But I have all these little crap classes that take up way too much time for no credit.  My chemistry class just blows, I hate chemistry and therefore have no incentive to study it.  Somedays in that class I wish we had all the busy work that we had in high school that drilled the material into your head.  My trig class is ok, but the teacher (I refuse to call him a professor, he's just a little graduate student) shows so much favoritism that it just irks me.  I don't really care if he likes me, but the fact that he completely ignores me in class and my papers always seem to be a bit more spitefully graded does irk me.  I had this fantasy in my head that as long as I got away from Auburn everything would be alright.  I hated it so much that I put all my problems on the town or the school or the people there.  And while I still do hate Auburn, I'm beginning to realize that if I'd stayed there I would have had the same problems, probably a few more dealing with drunken roommates and the like though.  But I'm going to have problems no matter where I go *lightbulb*, yeah I know I'm slow sometimes.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although classes are highly important that's not all that college is about.  I've found some awesome friends Lindsey who I make fun of a lot, but only cuz I love her and she's just so fun to make fun of.  Steve who in my anti-emo ninja.  And of course Matt, who goes extra out of his way to make sure everything is right in my world.  Somedays I wish I had more friends, but I know that the few close ones I have will be there for a very long time, and no matter what I do they'll forgive me.  And my senior year of high school was just toturous and friendless so I'm very thankful to be done with that.  My roommates although they irk me sometimes and I don't see them a lot are good roommates.  They're only loud sometimes, and the dishes usually get done and milk bought etc.  I wish I was better friends with them, but we get along and that's good enough for me.  My body is really what I'm hating the most right now.  Since I left Auburn my knees have gotten worse (probably from the lack of exercise) and my head has just decided to be a bitch.  I've been to 5 or 6 different doctors and I'm tired of them, tired of my body, and tired of my immune system, or lack there of.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't post all week because I was super stressed (to the point where I was getting very sick).  Now I'm still sick and stressed, and I just want this semester to be over.  Next semester I'll start over and try harder, maybe I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed everyday this semester.  Maybe we should all make some new years/spring semester resolutions...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-113362967812120519?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/113362967812120519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=113362967812120519' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113362967812120519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113362967812120519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2005/12/wishing-semester-would-end.html' title='Wishing the semester would end...'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-113290325712055886</id><published>2005-11-25T03:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-25T01:20:57.143-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving and all that Jazz...</title><content type='html'>I came home to Auburn for thanksgiving and it really hasn't been that bad.  Yes my parents do keep the house and 65 degrees and my brother stole my room so I'm in my sister's room.  But after a few arrangements (i.e. putting bricks underneath my sister's desk so i could fit my legs underneath and throwing the mattress on the floor since I'm too big for the bed) it hasn't been that bad.  Hanging around my brother has been really cool, I haven't seen him in a year, and I don't talk to him often.  Let's face it I miss him, he's been moved out for 4 years now.  Today we had 13 total for thanksgiving. My parents are always very generous with food and inviting people to their home and what not.  I could have easily brought a carload of people home with me and my dad would have loved it.  I guess that's what happens when you grow up with 7 siblings and always have friends in and out.  I wasn't feeling all that sociable today though so i mainly kept to myself and out of the way.  My parents didn't seem to mind too much, I guess being a social butterfly during my younger years paid off a bit by giving me some downtime now.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now for some little things I'm happy and thankful about:&lt;br /&gt;-I'm thankful that I can afford milk.  My brother walks into the kitchen tonight and pours himself a huge glass of milk and says "I'm drinking milk while I can, normally never get it, I can't afford it"&lt;br /&gt;-I'm thankful that I have a car to get me from point A to point B, and all points in between when i get lost&lt;br /&gt;-I'm thankful to have Matt, who has a car, and won't get lost quite as much as I do&lt;br /&gt;-I'm thankful to be well cared for, by my friends who won't let me be emo, by my family who leaves me pretty much alone, but will give me almost anything I ask for if I really need it&lt;br /&gt;-I'm thankful that I'm in school...I hate the studying and class and what not, but hopefully one day I can get a job or some suchness and be all independant like&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope that everyone has had a good thanksgiving.  No killing families etc.  Hopefully not too many deer in headlights type grillings about the guy/girl that is/isn't in your life right now.  Lots of food, and lots of sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PEACE!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-113290325712055886?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/113290325712055886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=113290325712055886' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113290325712055886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113290325712055886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2005/11/thanksgiving-and-all-that-jazz.html' title='Thanksgiving and all that Jazz...'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-113281149969856970</id><published>2005-11-24T01:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-23T23:51:39.710-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Me, funny neeeever</title><content type='html'>My brother was playing around with my camera and took this video of me.  It's just really funny how fast my mind moves from one topic to a completely different topic.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://webpages.uah.edu/~vankl/crazy.avi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-113281149969856970?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/113281149969856970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=113281149969856970' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113281149969856970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113281149969856970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2005/11/me-funny-neeeever.html' title='Me, funny neeeever'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-113260022758079204</id><published>2005-11-21T03:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-21T13:10:27.596-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The What Ifs</title><content type='html'>I'm in one of those what if moods that I know we all get in sometimes.  Just wondering about life and what could become of it if one little thing had changed.  A big one right now is what if I had gone to Auburn. Would I have joined a sorority like every other girl from my high school at Auburn.  Would I have chosen a different major or decided on something else to do with my life.  Would James and I have ever dated, and would we still be together.  Would I be a completely different person than who I am here.  &lt;br /&gt;Each one of these questions brings 10 or so more questions and the cycle never ends.  I blame it all on facebook.  I "keep in touch" with people from high school, many of whom I would never talk to again in real life.  But through pictures, and wall posts, and activities, you can keep track of these people and see which track their lives are taking and go hrrrmmmm, never saw that coming, or yeah I knew he/she would end up like that.  Most everyone who has facebook uses it daily it seems.  Some people are more addicted to it than others.  Sometimes it seems good that you can keep up with people from the past so easily, yet other times you just want to forget them all and move on.  Do I really need to be virtual friends with all those people who looked down on me in high school because I wasn't one of them, and really didn't want to be one of them?  Do I need to be like some people and befriend everyone who walks into my suite, or someone I meet once?  Do I need to look at every picture that one of my "friends" posts even though I don't know anyone in the pictures, and don't really care what they did last Friday night?  It all just leads to more what ifs and more wet rainy cold days where you just sit there wondering about life. Despite the fact that you know wondering and what if-ing will get you no where.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-113260022758079204?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/113260022758079204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=113260022758079204' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113260022758079204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113260022758079204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2005/11/what-ifs.html' title='The What Ifs'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-113233650286040933</id><published>2005-11-18T13:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-18T11:55:02.870-06:00</updated><title type='text'>TGIF</title><content type='html'>I love Friday's I really do.  On Friday's I only have 3 classes: Trig, Chemistry, and then Research.  Trig and Chemistry I actually have to work for, but Research is generally show up, watch some sort of presentation, and then leave.  But it's still at 1 pm on a Friday, poor scheduling really, but oh well.&lt;br /&gt;After a fairly hectic week my weekend won't be any less hectic.  Tonight at 7:30 is a Jazz Concert.  It should be pretty good, we have a guest soloist.  Some of the songs never really much thrilled me, but last night at the dress rehersal I finally came to appreciate some of the songs that I really hadn't enjoyed at all before.  Sunday afternoon at 3 is the Christmas choir concert for all the UAH choirs.  If our choir can just manage to not fall completely apart maybe we won't sound like complete and utter crap.  My parents will be here all weekend too which could be a good or bad thing, just depending on how it plays out.  Good things: free food, maybe some other mooching, my parents acting like they actually care for once.  Possible Bad things: my parents meeting all my friends (could be scary), annoying never-ending questions, loosing all my free time this weekend that I could be using to study (or rather to put off studying).  &lt;br /&gt;Oh well, I'm actually excited about all of it...but right now I'm excited about it being lunchtime!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-113233650286040933?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/113233650286040933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=113233650286040933' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113233650286040933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113233650286040933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2005/11/tgif.html' title='TGIF'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-113210178172558082</id><published>2005-11-15T20:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-15T18:43:01.736-06:00</updated><title type='text'>So they call me names...</title><content type='html'>For those of you who don't know I'm dating Matt aka Brimstone now.  Problem is I've gotten Soooooo much crap about it from everyone!  People talking about me behind my back calling everything short of a full fledged slut.  Yes I know that I just got out of a relationship, but in all actuallity that never would have gone anywhere.  James was awesome, don't get me wrong.  However we were complete opposites in every way.  He was into History, me science.  He liked watching football and watched TV nightly, I turn the TV on once every 2 weeks, if even that.  He drank and smoked, I'm not much into alcohol and smoking well that's just horribly disgusting.  &lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of hearing everyone's opinion on me and my relationships.  People just treat me like I sleep around, and really that's soooooo untrue.  Frankly I think sex is discusting right now and I'm so not ready for it.  Matt and I are dating now because frankly it was going to happen soon anyway, and after being dumped I wasn't going to sit around and sulk for a month, it's just not me.  Part of me wishes I was single now because I absolutely love being single, and it annoys me when everyone sits around and complains non-stop about how they don't have a guy/girl.  But the other part of me knows that dating is a part of life, and that no matter who you date, or when you date them people are always going to talk bad about you.&lt;br /&gt;So to those of you unhappy with me in anway, get over it.  I don't care what you think of me.  If you like me, then awesome.  If you don't then there isn't really anything I can do to change your mind, so there's absolutely no point in trying.  There's over 6 billion people in this world, if you don't like me, well boo hoo I'm not going to go be emo about it.  For those of you who don't like who I'm dating, the timing, or anything else about that it's a little late now, it's happened and you can't change the past.  No one will tell me what to do, who I should befriend, or who I should date.  If I want your opinion I will generally ask for it, but you forcing your views on me is NOT productive. &lt;br /&gt;I'm Kat, not anyone else.  I know I'm odd but...that's me: love it or leave it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-113210178172558082?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/113210178172558082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=113210178172558082' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113210178172558082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113210178172558082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2005/11/so-they-call-me-names.html' title='So they call me names...'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18993227.post-113206559823003236</id><published>2005-11-15T12:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-15T10:21:55.300-06:00</updated><title type='text'>First Post</title><content type='html'>I decided to finally start a blog.  Who know's how often I'll actually update, but at least it's something.&lt;br /&gt;I wrote this one while I was in class:&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure what woke me up this morning, maybe it was my knee aching/throbbing, or my head making me completely miserable all around, or possibly my horribly annoying alarm clock.  But from the moment I woke up I knew that it was going to be a fairly crappy day.  &lt;br /&gt;I'm sitting in Trig right now, and it's Tuesday which means that we have out lab instructor.  he just used the whole board to go over one parabola.  I'm so confused about all of this, which is marvelous since I have a test tomorrow.  Studying wouldn't be such a problem if i didn't feel so icky.&lt;br /&gt;I'm planning on skipping Forum today.  There's no way i'm sitting there listening to someone talk for over an hour wheile feeling this crappy.  it's a silly class anyway, you sit there for 2 hours and 40 minutes a week and listen to people talk about how important they think they are, and then the honors students ask paragraph-long, overlly elaborates questions using as many huge words as possible so that they too may proove how smart they are.  Then the speakers attempt to respond in a way that prooves their superiority to sais students.  Makes everyone feel overly confident about them-selves.  Honors fourm is the ego-boosting class for all honors students. &lt;br /&gt;That's my rant for the time being, I'm out!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18993227-113206559823003236?l=kvansanten.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/feeds/113206559823003236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18993227&amp;postID=113206559823003236' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113206559823003236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18993227/posts/default/113206559823003236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kvansanten.blogspot.com/2005/11/first-post.html' title='First Post'/><author><name>Katharina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07573062557238728393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
