<?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-2664911005151263622</id><updated>2012-02-16T18:48:12.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Veraciously</title><subtitle type='html'>Truthful.Honest.Me.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2664911005151263622/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Vera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07694564264009161513</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C_iw-WD0VmI/Sj83ncp0YaI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KFoaBoTGRgw/S220/Cats+Eye+Nebula.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2664911005151263622.post-3185646093830045250</id><published>2009-07-15T00:38:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T01:11:51.116-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I was on a roll...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It's been days since my last post. Days since I've thought about writing. I was on a roll... and here push comes to shove and I'll be rolling again in no time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A couple weekends ago, Topher and I went on what started out as a great adventure. It ended up catastrophically. I honestly feared for my life. I blame myself as much as I blame him, because I knew he'd been drinking and I still let him drive. I asked him to stop however, and he didn't. I vow that I'll never put myself in that situation again. The third era of Vera and Topher is dwindling down to a close... never to be re-kindled if I've learned anything from all of this. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;To bring things up to date in other areas: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Joe and I still have our casual relationship, although I find myself wondering what it would be like to have more. At the same time I'm so grateful to be free in so many ways.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;My friend Dwayne, at work is very actively pursuing a sexual relationship with me. I find it flattering and I love the attention, but he's quite a bit older than I and I can't picture myself with him in a sexual way. Trying not to lead him on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Mike, another friend from work, is married. I find myself deeply attracted to him, and the feeling is reciprocated. (We've briefly touched on the subject.) Nothing will become of the attraction, because I refuse to involve myself with a married man. Even knowing that this married man is attracted to me makes me feel bad... and a little bit guilty. I avoid being alone with him and try to keep our conversations short and professional. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm more comfortable in my own skin than I've ever been before. I love my body, which is a &lt;strong&gt;huge&lt;/strong&gt; achievement for me. I know what my flaws are, and I'm okay with them. I've &lt;em&gt;never&lt;/em&gt; been able to say that before. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I work at a job that I absolutely love! I'm a peon, my pay isn't great, but I love love LOVE my job! I work with a great group of very caring individuals and I work for people who are learning to live successfully with addictions, mental illnesses, and just plain ol' hard luck. I'm challenged each day. I work hard. There's never a dull moment. I may have already mentioned this, but I truly do love my job.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;That about sums up my life right now. Things are good. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Life is beautiful. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2664911005151263622-3185646093830045250?l=veraciously.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/feeds/3185646093830045250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-was-on-roll.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2664911005151263622/posts/default/3185646093830045250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2664911005151263622/posts/default/3185646093830045250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-was-on-roll.html' title='I was on a roll...'/><author><name>Vera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07694564264009161513</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C_iw-WD0VmI/Sj83ncp0YaI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KFoaBoTGRgw/S220/Cats+Eye+Nebula.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2664911005151263622.post-5345804507392561227</id><published>2009-06-27T02:22:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T16:24:44.527-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Force It Please.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;When I say, No or I have a boyfriend... Don't force it please.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;When I say, I don't think so... Don't force it please.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;When I say, Stop or We need some boundaries here... Don't force it please.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;When I say, you're way too old, get a life... Don't force it please.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;When I take your hand off my knee... Don't force it please.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;When I say, I don't want to go beyond friendship with you... Don't force it please.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;When I say what I say, I have a reason. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;DON'T FORCE IT PLEASE!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;By forcing the issue&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;you're showing me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;that you don't respect me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and that will get you &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;NOWHERE &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;with me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2664911005151263622-5345804507392561227?l=veraciously.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/feeds/5345804507392561227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/2009/06/dont-force-it-please.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2664911005151263622/posts/default/5345804507392561227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2664911005151263622/posts/default/5345804507392561227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/2009/06/dont-force-it-please.html' title='Don&apos;t Force It Please.'/><author><name>Vera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07694564264009161513</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C_iw-WD0VmI/Sj83ncp0YaI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KFoaBoTGRgw/S220/Cats+Eye+Nebula.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2664911005151263622.post-917125915547004344</id><published>2009-06-26T00:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T16:34:57.900-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Saving My Car Soul</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I was raised in the Mormon faith as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My faith is shaky to put it lightly. I am not a stalwart member of my church, in fact, I've all but fallen away. I went through a six year period of inactivity, and have recently started to go to church again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I have felt the power of Jesus Christ in my life and can witness to the power of the Holy Ghost. I know that the Book of Mormon was written by prophets called of God. This is something that I do not take lightly. I will not deny that which I know. I also choose to keep my religion close and private most of the time. I write this to fulfill my pledge to fully accept myself and write veraciously. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Those of my faith who judge others will readily report that I am a sinner. I do bad things ALL THE TIME. I smoke and curse and drink and have premarital sex. &lt;em&gt;(Those are some &lt;strong&gt;major&lt;/strong&gt; sins in my faith!) &lt;/em&gt;I happen to be one of those people who believes it is wrong for individuals to place judgment upon another. &lt;em&gt;("He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.") &lt;/em&gt;I also know that it is important to be true to yourself, to follow a path that no one can decide but yourself. I know that all things happen for a reason and that those reasons are not always apparent. Sins are meant to be part of this life's journey. If they weren't then we would all be perfect today, and we would live in an incredibly boring world. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I don't write these things as an excuse, but as a means to accept my understanding of life as I'm learning to live it. I struggle with "gospel principles" mainly because of my decisions to stray from the standards I was raised with. I wrote about Joe, and I know that Joe and I won't last, but I'm comfortable with the situation and I know that I've grown from it and gained confidence and improved my self esteem because of the relationship I have with him. &lt;em&gt;(That was a definite justification)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;My life has grown to be one constant state of transition. The transitions that I've gone through recently have put me under major financial stress. I've chosen my jobs and where I work, and I'm at peace with the decisions I've made. I'm happy with the job I have now, and I can see how it will help me progress and grow. That doesn't change the fact that I'm struggling financially. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was financially stable and working at a job I thought I'd be at for awhile, I leased a new car. My reasons were: to have dependable transportation, to have maintenance included in my payment, and to have the confidence having &lt;em&gt;(and paying for)&lt;/em&gt; my own car would give me. Now, the job didn't last, and of course my lease payments did. I struggle with budgeting, I'm not good with money, but not working makes anyone &lt;em&gt;terrible&lt;/em&gt; with money- especially me. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My church saved my car. They (the members through donations) paid my car payment when I could not. It took many sleepless nights and humility beyond that which I've felt before to ask for help. Now it takes strength, confidence and being true to myself to be okay with the help that I've been given. Now comes the work on saving my soul. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2664911005151263622-917125915547004344?l=veraciously.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/feeds/917125915547004344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/2009/06/saving-my-car-soul.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2664911005151263622/posts/default/917125915547004344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2664911005151263622/posts/default/917125915547004344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/2009/06/saving-my-car-soul.html' title='Saving My &lt;span style=&quot;text-decoration: line-through;&quot;&gt;Car&lt;/span&gt; Soul'/><author><name>Vera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07694564264009161513</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C_iw-WD0VmI/Sj83ncp0YaI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KFoaBoTGRgw/S220/Cats+Eye+Nebula.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2664911005151263622.post-2301102103786699670</id><published>2009-06-25T02:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T02:40:07.693-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Words running through my head...</title><content type='html'>I &lt;strong&gt;HAD&lt;/strong&gt; to write them down:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He hugged me like a mountain and told me he would keep me satisfied&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And now I must admit that that mountain of a man, he lied&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;This heart of mine is hanging up inside, it's crushed and the soul is worn&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've felt my own scorn - and resorted to porn&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want sex like a cattle drive in Texas&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2664911005151263622-2301102103786699670?l=veraciously.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/feeds/2301102103786699670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/2009/06/words-running-through-my-head.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2664911005151263622/posts/default/2301102103786699670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2664911005151263622/posts/default/2301102103786699670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/2009/06/words-running-through-my-head.html' title='Words running through my head...'/><author><name>Vera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07694564264009161513</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C_iw-WD0VmI/Sj83ncp0YaI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KFoaBoTGRgw/S220/Cats+Eye+Nebula.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2664911005151263622.post-1754268687421595716</id><published>2009-06-25T02:22:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T00:47:42.547-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Joe</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I sleep with Joe on a regular basis. I like him because he's average. He's not sexy in the traditional way, and not popular as I envision popular. He's an artist who draws comics and super heroes &lt;em&gt;(he's very into that type of thing)&lt;/em&gt; and I've know him to write a racy sex story or two. I'm happy to report that he gave me my comic book sex education.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;I met Joe at work and he vividly remembers the day he realized he wanted to fuck me. He was checking out my breasts when were working in very close quarters. I don't think I noticed then, but I recall when I decided I wanted to fuck him... It was just after talking with him about sex toys and slumber parties. It was a moment that made me blush when I realized it. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;We play games and tell stories, play truth or dare, and share fantasies. We take showers and watch porn and sleep soundly next to each other between sex. (We always have sex a few times at night and then in the morning too) The sex is great, and keeps getting better. We rarely go out together, we don't share friends, we don't have normal relationship expectations of each other. We keep our relationship secret, and maybe that's part of the fun. I wouldn't tell him this, but I love my Average Joe. :) I'm completely satisfied with things as they are. I'm pretty sure he is too.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2664911005151263622-1754268687421595716?l=veraciously.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/feeds/1754268687421595716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/2009/06/joe.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2664911005151263622/posts/default/1754268687421595716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2664911005151263622/posts/default/1754268687421595716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/2009/06/joe.html' title='Joe'/><author><name>Vera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07694564264009161513</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C_iw-WD0VmI/Sj83ncp0YaI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KFoaBoTGRgw/S220/Cats+Eye+Nebula.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2664911005151263622.post-7660727151262849805</id><published>2009-06-24T02:22:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T17:22:06.041-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Doing Ward</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ward is a small man with fairly long hair (balding slightly), who always wears a white corduroy jacket. I will forever think of the early nineties when I think of Ward and his white corduroy jacket. I met him at Chuck's through Bell. &lt;em&gt;Bell and Topher have history, by the way... they dated before Topher shot himself. In fact, Topher broke Bell's heart and was a big jerk before he shot himself. Then after he shot himself, he decided he wanted Bell back. Well, Bell wouldn't have it. As a matter of fact, now that I think about it... I think Bell and Ward have history too. I haven't heard their history yet, so I'll save that for another time. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So, Ward is a fairly regular customer at Chuck's and he's a bar tender for another bar that Bell frequents. One night after drinking at Chuck's we all decided to continue our party at Lawrence and Anna's. Ward wanted beer from his house &lt;em&gt;(I really like his doors.) &lt;/em&gt;and I wanted weed from mine, so we drove together before we all convened at L &amp;amp; A's. The night was good, and nothing was implied or said in the way of Ward and I hooking up, but that was not the last I saw of Ward.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A weekend or so ago, I saw Ward again. Topher had invited me to Chuck's after work, and Ward was there hanging out too. Ward and I started up with flirtatious banter. &lt;em&gt;I found out later that he asked Topher if it was okay if he tried hooking up with me. (Topher gave him the green light- talk about feeling like a piece of meat!)&lt;/em&gt; Anyway, Jean was visiting from out of town, and I really had a wonderful time catching up with her... and then there was Ward. Hovering. Flirting. Rubbing my back. We had the usual after party at Lawrence and Anna's. Ward and I drove over together and he kissed me while we were still in the car. &lt;em&gt;(I thought Topher knew, I later found out he didn't.) &lt;/em&gt;Topher got angry and jealous about the flirting I was feeling awkward, and said so. That's when Anna and I stepped out to have a conversation. &lt;em&gt;Have I mentioned that I love Anna? Well I do. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Anna is awesome and told me that I should do what I felt like doing, that I'd hung around while Topher was mindlessly pining over Bell and that no one would judge me harshly for hooking up with Ward... "plus we're all drunk, it's not like you're deciding to start a relationship- it's just a drunk hook up." she said. "We like you independent of Topher." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When we came back, Topher left saying that he needed to get Bell home because she worked in the morning. He said he was coming back, but texted me later all angry about the flirting with Ward saying that he would just stay out of the way. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So, Ward and I hooked up. I don't exactly know why. I can't say that I wanted it the whole time. Lord knows I tried to get out of there! I was drunk and high and still trying to convince myself that I wanted to sleep with him. The chemistry just wasn't there. He has cats. &lt;em&gt;(I'm allergic)&lt;/em&gt; He was tending a dog. &lt;em&gt;(I'm allergic)&lt;/em&gt; He didn't take charge in bed. &lt;em&gt;(He needed to.)&lt;/em&gt; I just wasn't feeling it. &lt;em&gt;(It wasn't the size of the ocean OR the motion of the ocean.)&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'll chalk it up to experience and blame it on the drunkeness. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2664911005151263622-7660727151262849805?l=veraciously.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/feeds/7660727151262849805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/2009/06/doing-ward.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2664911005151263622/posts/default/7660727151262849805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2664911005151263622/posts/default/7660727151262849805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/2009/06/doing-ward.html' title='Doing Ward'/><author><name>Vera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07694564264009161513</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C_iw-WD0VmI/Sj83ncp0YaI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KFoaBoTGRgw/S220/Cats+Eye+Nebula.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2664911005151263622.post-8616849888128339818</id><published>2009-06-23T02:22:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T02:27:52.995-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Lawrence and Anna</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I met Lawrence and Anna through Topher, however, I consider them friends independent of Topher. Does that make sense?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I actually went to jr. high with Lawrence... he voted for me when I ran for 8th grade class president. I can't say that I remember him from way back then though. Anyway, we all link back to Jean who was Anna's roommate after high school. She introduced Lawrence and Anna. It took awhile, but Lawrence and Anna got together, and have been a couple for years and years now. They are good people, and fun people, and I like them a lot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We hang out at a little dive of a bar called Chuck's. They have beer and beer light on tap, and they serve shots of the hard stuff- not much else. We are the customers, and although other people show up every now and then, I'm sure we single-handedly keep Chuck's in business. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I like Lawerence and Anna because they're not afraid to make fun of me. They each have a unique, punny, and sarcastic sense of humor. I can be honest with them, because they are honest with me. We share a friendship with Topher and a sense of responsibility for his well being because of that friendship. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Lately, I've found myself alone at Lawrence and Anna's house. We usually spend the early part of the night at Chuck's drinking and video bowling, then we walk a couple blocks to Lawrence and Anna's house and drink some more, talk, and get high. So, it's not just me that walks back to their house. Usually Topher and Bell come with. Lately Topher has been getting mad at me and taking off before I consider the night to be over. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When Topher leaves, it generally leads to a specific conversation between Lawrence, Anna and me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"You've been discussed." they say, "We consider you your own entity aside from Topher. You're good people and our friend independent of Topher." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I love them for that, and the fact that they take the time to let it be known that they like me for me. I let them know that I appreciate them, and feel much the same about their friendship. Most of the time this makes me feel good, and accepted, and loved. I don't know if it's because of the pot, but recently it all gets to be too much for me after the first round of the conversation. What else can we say? There has to be some new ground, something to talk about other than my independence from Topher. So now I vow, I'll take the lead and discuss politics or work or religion... maybe even start a game. Lawrence and Anna are worth that, independent of Topher, I think. ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2664911005151263622-8616849888128339818?l=veraciously.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/feeds/8616849888128339818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/2009/06/lawrence-and-anna.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2664911005151263622/posts/default/8616849888128339818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2664911005151263622/posts/default/8616849888128339818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/2009/06/lawrence-and-anna.html' title='Lawrence and Anna'/><author><name>Vera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07694564264009161513</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C_iw-WD0VmI/Sj83ncp0YaI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KFoaBoTGRgw/S220/Cats+Eye+Nebula.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2664911005151263622.post-1360750969910150168</id><published>2009-06-22T12:42:00.009-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T12:14:13.224-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Topher</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;In my life there have been three eras of Topher. Topher is neurotic, depressed, melodramatic, and self centered. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I first met Topher through my best friend Jean. Topher is Jean's step brother. He was kind to her when she needed a friend, and that appealed to me. (I knew Jean well before she ever had a step brother) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I don't remember how we met or even why we started hanging out. I do know that I met Topher when I had decided to live adventurously. I wanted to make sure that I lived my life to the fullest, and I'd decided to take opportunities as they developed and participate whole heartedly. This was all during my senior year of high school.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Topher is three years older than I. We hiked, biked, roller bladed, and made out as often as possible. He used to roller blade to my house because he didn't have a car. I remember that he had the WORST B.O. on those days! Hehehe... Anyway, we had some good times: swam in the winter run off in the canyon, laid down at night in the cemetery under a blanket and watched the snow fall rapidly toward our eyes, and made out all night in his hotel room (courtesy of the college he was attending)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I was immature and neither of us were willing to commit to anything more than making out... so our relationship ended quickly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Seven years down the road, we met again. Topher was a newly divorced, alcoholic, sex offender. I didn't find out about all of this at once, but he was busted for child porn which caused his divorce. He turned to drinking to deal. I had already invested emotion, care, and love when I found out everything about Topher. I was able to easily overlook the bad, because of the love we already shared.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Again... we had a relationship of adventure, but this time we talked. We talked about everything under the sun and more. I discovered a depth of communication I'd never experienced before. We counselled each other. I loved him then. I wanted romance and a relationship, but he wasn't ready. We drank, we camped, we drank, we hiked, we went off roading, we sang and he played the guitar, we drank, we went to concerts and were the best of friends. Eventually, his alcoholism and self-centeredness got in the way of our friendship. He was an ass hole. (simply put) We stopped talking. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Three years later, and quite recently Topher contacted me again. He was interested in meeting for drinks... I've matured, and I've grown, and I no longer desire his acceptance. I wanted to hang out again because the good memories I have of him are great ones- good times that are at the top of the good time list. I met him for drinks a few months ago. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Topher has wasted away. He is scrawney and sickly and indigent. He was completely honest right up front when we met again. He had fallen asleep with a gun in his hand. He was drunk, high on cocaine and ready to die... only he hadn't the guts to pull the trigger. He fell asleep and woke to a gunshot through his neck. He knew then that he didn't want to die and dialed 9-1-1 before he passed out from the loss of blood. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So this was a year ago, he tells me, and he's been through major physical therapy since. He's on major pain meds, and I'm sure he's addicted to those as well. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This brings you to date on the three eras of Topher... well almost.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Topher says that he loves me now, all for selfish reasons of course. I don't love him. I like to hang out, and we have some great mutual friends, but that's all that I want and/or need. Too bad he wants more. I can't bring myself to invest more, to feel more, to care. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2664911005151263622-1360750969910150168?l=veraciously.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/feeds/1360750969910150168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/2009/06/topher.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2664911005151263622/posts/default/1360750969910150168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2664911005151263622/posts/default/1360750969910150168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/2009/06/topher.html' title='Topher'/><author><name>Vera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07694564264009161513</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C_iw-WD0VmI/Sj83ncp0YaI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KFoaBoTGRgw/S220/Cats+Eye+Nebula.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2664911005151263622.post-5754353079114954618</id><published>2009-06-22T01:55:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T01:54:05.083-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Take Me As I Am</title><content type='html'>Acceptance is a powerful act. I have decided to accept myself. By accepting myself I am freeing my mind, releasing guilt, and allowing all that I feel to be valid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Veracious&lt;/strong&gt; adj.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Honest; truthful.&lt;br /&gt;Accurate; precise.&lt;br /&gt;[From Latin vērāx, vērāc-, truthful, from vērus, true.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;veraciously ve·ra'cious·ly adv.&lt;br /&gt;veraciousness ve·ra'cious·ness n.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;"veracious." Antonyms. Answers Corporation, 2008. Answers.com 22 Jun. 2009. &lt;a href="http://www.answers.com/topic/veracious"&gt;http://www.answers.com/topic/veracious&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;Take me as I am. I will write veraciously.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2664911005151263622-5754353079114954618?l=veraciously.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/feeds/5754353079114954618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/2009/06/take-me-as-i-am.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2664911005151263622/posts/default/5754353079114954618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2664911005151263622/posts/default/5754353079114954618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://veraciously.blogspot.com/2009/06/take-me-as-i-am.html' title='Take Me As I Am'/><author><name>Vera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07694564264009161513</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C_iw-WD0VmI/Sj83ncp0YaI/AAAAAAAAAA0/KFoaBoTGRgw/S220/Cats+Eye+Nebula.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
