<?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-167869203691464967</id><updated>2012-02-16T22:02:54.239-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Whirlpools, Undertow, and Tidal Waves</title><subtitle type='html'>After being consummed by the gaping maw of Charybdis herself, I will almost certainly be ceremoniously, gloriously belched onto the deck of a passing ship, to while away my remaining days as a bonified Wench of the Sea.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>61</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-5395221040997451394</id><published>2008-09-03T13:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T13:42:42.401-06:00</updated><title type='text'>New Blog</title><content type='html'>http://insearchofgertrudespast.blogspot.com/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-5395221040997451394?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/5395221040997451394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=5395221040997451394' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/5395221040997451394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/5395221040997451394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2008/09/new-blog.html' title='New Blog'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-6884839989716189493</id><published>2008-06-19T15:12:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-19T17:00:55.423-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Long and Winding</title><content type='html'>Haven't written in a very long time, mostly because I had so much news and so many stories that I couldn't bring myself to begin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Now I will tell one story&lt;/u&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I got fired today&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;And deliver one news item&lt;/u&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I'm leaving for NYC at the end of the month, if all goes according to plan&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have any desire to see me, just gimme a call.  I have lots of free time.&lt;br /&gt;If you're in NY in the near future (or there already), look me up.  I'll be in Williamsburg, on 3rd, near the bridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LATER.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-6884839989716189493?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/6884839989716189493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=6884839989716189493' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/6884839989716189493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/6884839989716189493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2008/06/long-and-winding.html' title='Long and Winding'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-2928211926035756182</id><published>2008-04-05T14:52:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T14:54:39.161-06:00</updated><title type='text'>That Time Again</title><content type='html'>Woo woo my birthday is on Tuesday.  I will be 23, in case you were wondering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carly and I are planning to bop around the fair city of MPLS, starting at Pancho Villa on Nicolette at 7pm, followed by Palmer's and possibly Grumpy's DT.  Come to Pancho's for 2-4-1 Margheritas, or just give one of us a call at any point to join up in the festivities!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-2928211926035756182?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/2928211926035756182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=2928211926035756182' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/2928211926035756182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/2928211926035756182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2008/04/that-time-again.html' title='That Time Again'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-1249576267186525101</id><published>2008-03-24T10:45:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T13:06:21.830-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Stuff and More Stuff</title><content type='html'>I've been experiencing this new thing where if I drink &lt;i&gt;at all&lt;/i&gt;, even if I only have a couple and don't go to sleep until 3 am, I wake up between 6 and 8 am, super stoked and full of restless energy.  So I've been jumping out of bed and walking down to Spyhouse and emailing and internetting in the morning sunshine.  It's kinda nice, but weird, to me.  Today I decided to up the ante and go to Bad Waitress and have breakfast with myself and the internet.  It's been suprisingly enjoyable!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, a story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;River&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The house is long, low, and dark, resembling a slightly more menacing Frank Lloyd Wright creation.  It sat back, nestled among towering evergreen trees that tinkled delicately in the silence of the sky where it stretched over the wide, slow-moving river.  Although cloudless, the water's reflection of the ether was dark, sappharine blue, and fathomless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in care of the mansion compound, though I don't enter often.  The occupants are unknown to me.  My days are spent with a group of nomadic peoples of indeterminate race, who currently inhabit the edge of the forest near the house.  Their homes are simple structures, lean-to's with few comforts, built into a hillside where rainwater has washed away the undergrowth on it's path to the river, revealing the rich black soil characteristic of this region.  Although they don't speak to me much, I feel more comfortable around their fire than I do in the shadowy beauty of the empty house.  From what I've gathered, these 20 or so people simply felt rejected by the society into which they were born, in a village approximately 20 miles North of our current location.  There, only blue eyed first born sons were given privilige, although they had to face considerable rights of passage upon the first full moon of their 13th year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nomads were dissenters, who also disagreed with the practice of sacrificing goats during religious celebrations, which were inherent to their tribe's social organization.  I suppose I felt an affinity for these outcasts, as I myself had moved away from the urban center I previously resided in, with its crowded freeways and hardscrabble economy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around the fire, you could feel the dampness of the soil, the cool air reserved among the broad fronds of the evergreen, and the lick of flame as it cooked venison.  The smells of the camp were something that took some time to get accustomed to.  The nomads were generally clad in animal hides and fur, which retained a musky scent, derived either from the curing process or from the people themselves.  The smell of venison has an almost metallic, pungent odor, perhaps due to the adrenaline which courses through a wild animal's veins at the time it is caught.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I myself recently experienced the phenomenon of our bodies' chemical response to danger.  Crossing the bridge from the camp to the estate, one of the ancient cedar planks which created the surface of the structure gave way beneath my foot, sending me on a course for the bottom of the river.  The water was apparently as thick as it was dark, and I felt as though I was being sucked down by clear blue molasses.  I soon reached the bed of the river, which was covered by smooth gray rocks about the size of my palm.  I began to panic as my ability to hold my breath waned, and as I looked to the surface of the deep water, an enormous school of large silver fish swarmed above, as birds in the air, their long, sharp teeth peaking out from the tips of their snouts.  I could see the trees which lined the bank, lusciously green and wavering with the current, as well as the sky, like a streak of lightening cutting it's way through the forest above it's companion, the river.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fascination aroused by the fish and their journey across the sky somehow postponed my need to draw breath, and as they passed downriver, I pushed for the surface of the heavy, coursing water, fanning my arms and momentarily wishing I could co-opt the fins of the strange fish.  I reached the surface and found one of the nomads holding a pole out to me, which I used to pull myself to the shore, exhausted.  He asked if I saw the school heading downriver, and when I told him I had, he ran back to the camp.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;To Be Continued&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-1249576267186525101?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/1249576267186525101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=1249576267186525101' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/1249576267186525101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/1249576267186525101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2008/03/stuff-and-more-stuff.html' title='Stuff and More Stuff'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-9102698469206005482</id><published>2008-03-19T09:44:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T09:52:35.497-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ramblin' Rose</title><content type='html'>Had a fun silly day yester.  Caffetto, MOA with Jocie to prepare for her trip to NYC, got food stoned on mall chow and went to work.  Went by fast, as I was the DJ for the night.  Laura Fulk picked me up and we went to the T Rock, where much running-into ensued.  Nick came and met us and was in a decidedly improved mood.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had a very interesting conversation with him and Zach Pearl about perception of self and projection and intentions.  It's so wonderful when one of your friend's genius highlights the other's, thereby causing you to appreciate each all the more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nick and I are going to Bemidji tomorrow morning.  I am very excited.  It should be extremely interesting.  I'm sure he will get on very well with Ma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I have a new 'thing.'  Going to Barbette after work on Mondays (at like 5 -- happy hour!) when Joc gets off work and drinking Champagne and eating nice things.  Any and all should join (I'm looking at you James)!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bye!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-9102698469206005482?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/9102698469206005482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=9102698469206005482' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/9102698469206005482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/9102698469206005482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2008/03/ramblin-rose.html' title='Ramblin&apos; Rose'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-4695538437300457950</id><published>2008-03-13T16:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-13T16:34:18.563-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Conversation</title><content type='html'>me: yes.  we have bigger fish to fry.&lt;br /&gt;i will meet someone in a salvatore ferragamo suit.&lt;br /&gt;Maureen: he says shit like this every week. and i'm like, "Perry get a grip. Do your homework, go to class, and we'll see when summer comes, ok?"&lt;br /&gt;me: or ermenegildo zegna.&lt;br /&gt;Maureen: perry will give us the hook up&lt;br /&gt;me: dude.&lt;br /&gt;Maureen: hell every fucker i know at princeton will give us the hookup&lt;br /&gt;these kids are crazy&lt;br /&gt;me: this is what i'm taling about.&lt;br /&gt;DOUBLE TROUBLE.&lt;br /&gt;DYNAMIC DUO&lt;br /&gt;Maureen: [nose smile]&lt;br /&gt;me: WE WILL SLAY&lt;br /&gt;with our midwestern good sense.&lt;br /&gt;Maureen: the funny thing is, i think they think i am one of them?&lt;br /&gt;bcs perry's dad knew my dad at princeton&lt;br /&gt;me: OOHHHHHHHHHH&lt;br /&gt;Maureen: and i'm like, his princeton was NOT the same as your dad's princeton&lt;br /&gt;me: that changes everythign.&lt;br /&gt;Maureen: all the same&lt;br /&gt;me: yeah.&lt;br /&gt;Maureen: minnesota = no man's land&lt;br /&gt;me: tevs.  i am no man of the land.&lt;br /&gt;i am all and nothing.&lt;br /&gt;Maureen: you will be the exotic girl from hippie world who grew up on a res&lt;br /&gt;i told your story&lt;br /&gt;everyone was dazzled&lt;br /&gt;me: uh oh.&lt;br /&gt;oh man.&lt;br /&gt;Maureen: who randomly learned ancient greek&lt;br /&gt;me: now i have rep.&lt;br /&gt;hahaha&lt;br /&gt;Maureen: girl you have a MYTH built around you&lt;br /&gt;in my head at least&lt;br /&gt;me: it does sound pretty wild in bullet point format.&lt;br /&gt;i'll have to really rub it all in.&lt;br /&gt;lol&lt;br /&gt;[smile]&lt;br /&gt;I'M SO EXCITED I'M JUMPING OUT OF MY SKIN BUT IT MIGHT ALSO BE THE ESPRESSO&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-4695538437300457950?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/4695538437300457950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=4695538437300457950' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/4695538437300457950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/4695538437300457950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2008/03/conversation.html' title='Conversation'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-711201405082898730</id><published>2008-03-12T13:19:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-12T13:19:45.506-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hey Jaws, Think This Was Us?</title><content type='html'>gorgeous brunette at the CC club tuesday night - m4w&lt;br /&gt;Reply to: pers-603486817@craigslist.org&lt;br /&gt;Date: 2008-03-11, 11:59PM CDT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi there,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were with a female blonde friend. you were in jeans and a black shirt....I have seen you there one other time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sketching in the booth across from you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wanted to say that i think you are absolutely gorgeous.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-711201405082898730?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/711201405082898730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=711201405082898730' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/711201405082898730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/711201405082898730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2008/03/hey-jaws-think-this-was-us.html' title='Hey Jaws, Think This Was Us?'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-2553177478764244265</id><published>2008-03-09T14:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T14:02:02.999-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Also...</title><content type='html'>Part II of the Virgin may be found below, with Part I.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-2553177478764244265?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/2553177478764244265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=2553177478764244265' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/2553177478764244265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/2553177478764244265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2008/03/also.html' title='Also...'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-5383380429123290705</id><published>2008-03-07T14:45:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T10:31:31.995-06:00</updated><title type='text'>News of The Me</title><content type='html'>Man, it's been a tough month.  After the endless broke-ness of unemployment, and my dad's heart surgery dramas, I finally feel like I'm coming through the other side.  Comfortable, kind of assured.  Haven't had that in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring's around the corner, which always has a dual effect, it seems.  People get filled with the Fever, excited about the prospect of approaching summer and everything that connotes.  The flip side is that everybody also seems to start FREAKING OUT.  I've always noticed this.  I usually just have a week long meltdown, which I think I've gotten over early this year (hopefully).  Things seem to smooth out by the time my birthday comes, so hopefully that'll be the case this year as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of my bday, which is in April, there are some big changes shakin.  I might move into the house Dick Donovan lives in next month, right on Lyndale.  Much cheaper rent, much less pressure.  This is what I'm looking for.  I just can't afford my big beautiful studio anymore, which is saaaaaaaaad, but oh well, right?  Plus, it's time to start saving for even bigger stuff, like moving to NYC in September!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's high time for me to mosey along and go do something different for a while.  I don't feel like I'm finding the opportunites I need here job-wise, and I just kinda feel like living somewhere else for a while!  Maureen has invited me to be her roommate, and she's getting a place somewhere in Broklyn this summer.  In addition, my brother is waiting to hear back from Eugene Lang, which is part of the New School, so we would both be relocating at the same time.  I really, really hope he gets in.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, I'm going to take an advanced/intensive French reading course this summer and start studying up for the GRE's.  And SAVING.  Then I'll be applying for grad school at City University New York the following winter, to start a year from this coming fall.  These are my schemes.  So we shall see!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If anyone has advice, or any kind of job connections, be sure to let me know!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over and Out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-5383380429123290705?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/5383380429123290705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=5383380429123290705' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/5383380429123290705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/5383380429123290705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2008/03/news-of-me.html' title='News of The Me'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-8671745350355621143</id><published>2008-02-01T18:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-01T18:30:52.334-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What A Day</title><content type='html'>The winds of change are a-blowin, methinks.  Started working at Dunn Bros, through a total fluke.  Was meeting up with Brian to go to the bank and get him a checking account.  He thought the Lake St. store was hiring, and had Jessi call Sanjeev and BAM, had an interview, and BADDA-BING!  Job!  That's good.  Feels good to be working, learning how to make coffee, hanging out with cool coworkers.  B got his checking account just fine, and then we met up with my parents, who were stopping through town.  Also met my retarded little sister, Sophie, my mom's Bichon Frise.  So that was eventful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day I started at Dunn Bros, MCAD called me for an interview, which I had today.  This would be an ultimate dream job, and it pays $29,000, plus benefits.  Was totally unprepared, through no fault of my own, for the fact that all four department heads would be interviewing me.  Very intense, very difficult questions.  But I think I represented myself as best I could.  So we shall see.  Fingers crossed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talked to my mom alot today, who informed me that my dad's heart condition is worse than they thought, which is causing some serious stress up north.  But there's nothing I can do, so I'm trying to stay chill about it.  She also told me that they're closing the elementary shcool in Squaw Lake, which had only 9 students.  So now my childhood home has been torn down, AND my school is closed.  I guess that's just the passing ofo time taking it's toll.  Feels kinda funny though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty stressed out about rent being due and me being broke.  Tried to file my taxes on TurboTax, which was a debacle.  Think I'm just gonna do it at H&amp;R Block to save myself the grief.  Also selling my car to the junkyard, for $100.  That's on Monday too.  Lots of stuff to take care of.  I'm sure it'll all sort itself out, as long as I stay reasonlably on top of things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, I hope I get that job.  Can't get too worked up though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time to sign off.  I am fried.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-8671745350355621143?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/8671745350355621143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=8671745350355621143' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/8671745350355621143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/8671745350355621143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2008/02/what-day.html' title='What A Day'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-8564736080352306571</id><published>2008-01-21T16:07:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T13:56:07.518-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Virgin (Part II)</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;'uulgatos taceo' dixit 'pastoris amores&lt;br /&gt;Daphnidis Idaei, quem nymphae paelicis ira&lt;br /&gt;contulit in saxum (tantus dolor urit amantes);&lt;br /&gt;nec loquor ut quondam naturae iure nouato&lt;br /&gt;ambiguus fuerit modo uir, modo femina Sithon.&lt;br /&gt;te quoque, nunc adamas, quondam fidissime paruo, &lt;br /&gt;Celmi, Ioui largoque satos Curetas ab imbri&lt;br /&gt;et Crocon in qaruos uersum cum Similace flores&lt;br /&gt;praetereo dulcique animos nouitate tenebo...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Magdalena, when she finished with the story, experienced the bizzare sensation of a heatwave, which originated in her heart and spread with a nauseating pulse through her limbs, over and over.  She wasn't too amenable to this new sensation, and suddenly began to dream again of the ocean, who's waves were cool, but awfully far away.  She thought of death, of life, and of the things which might be in between.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The feeling passed, and Magdalena got the sense that she should be having a revelation.  Rather, she realized that she had been sitting in the sun for a long time, with no water, and only a mealy mango to keep her going.  Deciding that this was the source of her recent turmoil, she headed towards the tin and leather shed, and her father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The evil ghost they both knew as boredom had enveloped Zvi as well, and Magdalena found him vacant on a rocking chair, in the shade of a makeshift porch.  Though a tender hearted and loving man, Zvi had a broken liver which caused him to have a rather taciturn nature, as he was concerned about the effects conversation could have on his health.  If he became overly excited, he reasoned, his bile might get stirred up and cause his body's toxins to intermingle in disasterous ways.  So he mostly kept to himself, in the rocking chair.  Magdalena wondered what he mused about, if anything, but didn't want to upset his liver by asking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus she was left to her own devices when contemplating this potential revelation brought on by Lizaveta's story.  She would have asked her mother Lili about it, if she weren't out looking for flowers.  Magdalena went inside her dark, almost cool home and lay down on the cot which served as her bed, in the corner.  Her mind drifted to the possibilites of miracles, and how they were granted.  She decided that they came not from Zeus or some omniscient diety, but from the force of human will to believe in them.  The ability to believe things into existance may be the only thing that has ever made anything happen.  Zvi believed in love, back when his liver worked, and he found Lili on an ice floe in the Arctic Circle.  Lili believed flowers should burst from window boxes in the arid interior of Portugal, and so they did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Magdalena believed she needed a friend.  Someone or something to love, which would be her companion and bastion from boredom in return.  She just wasn't sure where this mysterious entity would come from, although the ache in her heart and belly, felt from the time of the quasi-revelation to the present moment, was brewing a plan of its own.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-8564736080352306571?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/8564736080352306571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=8564736080352306571' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/8564736080352306571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/8564736080352306571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2008/01/virgin-part-ii.html' title='The Virgin (Part II)'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-1902738307805204170</id><published>2008-01-16T13:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T16:06:56.528-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Virgin</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;Sea-girl, Magdalena&lt;br /&gt;says, ca-caw ca-caw&lt;br /&gt;squaking a song to&lt;br /&gt;nothing at all,&lt;br /&gt;at all at all.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She lived in a funny part of Portugal, where not much went on.  There was dust, there were brambles, and some crooked, dry trees.  Her house was tin and leather, where she stayed with her parents, mostly her father; mom was very busy, out and about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Magdalena often cursed her fate, thinking she was meant for much more, as young girls will.  Although she did cool her heels when she thought of her mother's early days.  Father had found her on an island in the Arctic Ocean, off the coast of Lapland, where even less went on.  Rather than tin and leather, she was surrounded by hides and ice, in an igloo, as the Inuits call it.  Lili had neither mother nor father - just an old crone they called Lizaveta, because she was Russian and smelled of the sebum which is secreeted by seals.  Anyway, Zvi found Lili on an expedition.  He was from Israel, which was considering a national relocation.  Lapland had its appeal, what with the Reindeer and all. But when Lili was discovered, Zvi and his party were more or less on a joy ride, swirling and swooshing through glaciers and ice-floes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only they'd known they were going to find a beautiful girl and a smelly old lady.  They would have brought Champagne and soap, to be sure.  Lili had pale green eyes, ones you don't see very often, and a charming snaggle-tooth.  Her skin was smooth and tawny, despite the arctic clime.  You know the sun reflects off snow.&lt;br /&gt;Lizaveta, on the other hand, had a large hooked nose, wart and all, squinting eyes hidden behind crows feet which had turned into wings, and was wrapped in so much fur she looked like the combination of a rock, Frankenstein's monster, and a Werewolf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zvi thought this was no kind of place for Lili, and invited her and Lizaveta aboard.  He and the Israelites were travelling on an arctic schooner, which had warm quarters below deck, resembling a bear's den.  The stove burned whale blubber, and emitted an odor comparable to that of a perfume factory.  The two L's were amenable to the offer, and clambered into the bear's den, which felt more like home to them than the igloo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The long and short of it is that they ended up in Portugal.  Lili wanted to be a florist, and Zvi thought he'd convert to Islam.  There were lots of mosques around, but not many flowers, which is why Magdalena's mother was gone more often than not.  Zvi didn't seem to mind.  He was just happy to be rid of Lizaveta (died of a heat stroke), with her seal smell and her grumbles under the fur.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, Magdalena was thinking the ocean was the place for her.  She thought about swimming, and about drowning, and was fairly sure she'd be okay with either.  Then she found one of Lizaveta's old books.  In it was a story about the daughter of a God, who was born from her father's semen floating in the ocean, which was the foam of the sea.  She came to shore on a seashell, with her hair wrapped around her bare form.  This is when the gears really started turning for our Virgin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;To Be Continued&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-1902738307805204170?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/1902738307805204170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=1902738307805204170' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/1902738307805204170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/1902738307805204170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2008/01/virgin.html' title='The Virgin'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-3578714991406833158</id><published>2008-01-12T12:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-12T12:22:50.262-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Thinkin On It</title><content type='html'>Someone dear said to me last night that it would be amazing if I did all the things I spontaneously think about doing.  That the products of these ideas would be worthwhile.  I don't know if that's true, but it made me think.  Am I super lazy?  (The answer to this is 'Yes').  I think the other half of the problem is that I don't believe it would be good, as I just stated above.  What's my deal?  Why don't I think I'm good at anything besides writing essays and droning in offices?  Probably because I've never given myself a chance.  And I'm lazy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously.  I'm what I would call a 'pleasure seeker,' and I derive the most pleasure from interacting with my friends, which doesn't leave a lot of time for me to work on my personal pursuits, whatever those may be.  So far all I do is read.  But I think I've done enough reading now to start writing.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another issue is that I don't usually generate ideas in isolation.  I need to talk and ruminate and ramble with others to come to my ideas.  Like last night I was arguing about how being bored could give you a rash, because stress can give you a rash, and you can get stressed out from boredom, so boredom is the root cause of the rash.  Brian said this was like thinking you could pray yourself pregnant.  Which gave me the idea to write a story about a teenage girl named Magdalena who is so bored that she decides to knock herself up.  For entertainment.  Then I decided I would write a short story every day of my unemployment, which is what started the conversation referred to in the initial thought of this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now you see my process.  I'm blogging because of a conversation, and I got a story idea from said conversation.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But maybe I will do more writing.  I need to harness my willpower, my belief in myself, and the ability to be alone for more than an hour at a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of hanging out with yourself, I left the CC Club pretty early last night, biked home, and took a long bath.  Then I finally hooked up my tv and dvd player and watched The Last Waltz from bed.  God damn, that was awesome.  So I had a pretty great date with myself.  I also realized that I have a crush on Robbie Robertson and Rick Danko.  And I LOVE Danko's voice.  I had to watch the video to realize he sang 'It Makes No Difference,' which is an inherently sappy song, though it's so god damn sweet that you have to love it.  I had a transcendental moment because of that song.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put the record on, and wasn't really paying attention.  I think I was sitting in the windowsill smoking and thinking to myself.  Then I sort of spontaneously started crying, weeping actually, until I came to and realized it was the sound of the person's voice who was singing the song.  That's when I fell in love with The Band.&lt;br /&gt;Holy shit, what a bunch of amazing musicians.  And they all have such incredibly diverse personalities, and each equally interesting.  Also Van Morrison's performance is the bomb.  He looks like this crazy, chubby little pip squeak next to Robertson and Danko, in a purple bodysuit thing with sparkles.  Then he starts singing and you're like, 'Holy shit!  Where is that coming from?'  Then you realize it's fucking Van Morrison.  Yow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I loved Ron Wood's appearance, along with Ringo Starr, for the finale.  He looks like this big hawkish, cynical creep up there amisdt all love vibes being circulated by The Band and co.  Very interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, enough ranting.  Gotta get moving.  Lots of social obligations to distract me from myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-3578714991406833158?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/3578714991406833158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=3578714991406833158' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/3578714991406833158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/3578714991406833158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2008/01/im-thinkin-on-it.html' title='I&apos;m Thinkin On It'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-7789984229470002563</id><published>2008-01-01T16:41:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-01T16:51:06.007-06:00</updated><title type='text'>NYE Snapshots</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R3rB1IsivgI/AAAAAAAAAAg/Et5L28IlUJk/s1600-h/2155030099_95f0385931.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R3rB1IsivgI/AAAAAAAAAAg/Et5L28IlUJk/s320/2155030099_95f0385931.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150642242463120898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man being stunned by the brilliance of my golden finery!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R3rCD4sivhI/AAAAAAAAAAo/JqavMAPg3AE/s1600-h/2155029431_0968281ba6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R3rCD4sivhI/AAAAAAAAAAo/JqavMAPg3AE/s320/2155029431_0968281ba6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150642495866191378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daughters of the Sun covered Barrett-era Pink Floyd!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R3rCRYsiviI/AAAAAAAAAAw/eoHbbxvrUVw/s1600-h/2153993979_1f1885a2f7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R3rCRYsiviI/AAAAAAAAAAw/eoHbbxvrUVw/s320/2153993979_1f1885a2f7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150642727794425378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vampire Hands covering Funhouse-era Stooges, with Nate Nelson of STNNG.  I believe Colin has peanut butter on him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Photos were taken by Jason.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-7789984229470002563?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/7789984229470002563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=7789984229470002563' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/7789984229470002563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/7789984229470002563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2008/01/nye-snapshots.html' title='NYE Snapshots'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R3rB1IsivgI/AAAAAAAAAAg/Et5L28IlUJk/s72-c/2155030099_95f0385931.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-1305513242146905225</id><published>2008-01-01T16:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-01T16:32:53.976-06:00</updated><title type='text'>2008</title><content type='html'>Oh my oh my here we are.  It kept occurring to me last night that I never really conceived of the fact that I would be living in the 2000's.  It really seems kind of funny, doesn't it?&lt;br /&gt;The turning over of a new year always comes as a sort of suprise to me.  Like, '08?  Really?  It sounds so foreign.  But 8 is one of my lucky numbers, so hopefully the year ahead will be better than the year behind.  Especially since I'm starting the year completely broke.  Like Sheila said, it's only up from here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing I find funny is that the majority of people begin a new year intoxicated, and then hungover.  Not that I'm an exception.  It's just that if it really is a major event, worthy of parties and declarations and resolutions, shouldn't we embrace it with a clear and healthy mind?&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure I'm just putting way too much thought into it.  Most people have NYD off, and it's an excuse to party, so why not?  I don't know, it's just made me kinda depressed to see people drinking around the holidays.  Family Values 08!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My one resolution:  QUIT SMOKING.  &lt;br /&gt;First thoughts of the day:&lt;br /&gt;1) How did I get here?  When did Dick leave?  How did I get into my pajamas?&lt;br /&gt;2) "Ooh, I hope Maureen left her pretty dresses here so I can try them all on!"&lt;br /&gt;3) Want Cigarette!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But once I let the urge pass, and the hangover kick in, I don't really feel like smoking.  AND I don't feel at all crabby or weird!  Maybe this will just be a nice clean break.  I'm really excited to start saving money, and for my lungs to be nice and fresh in the spring!  I'm going to be a speed machine!&lt;br /&gt;I am scared of getting fat though.  Oh well, I suppose it's all just self control, which is something I'm learning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So maybe 2008 will be the year of self-control and determination.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-1305513242146905225?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/1305513242146905225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=1305513242146905225' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/1305513242146905225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/1305513242146905225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2008/01/2008.html' title='2008'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-5899579829912076578</id><published>2007-12-20T12:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T12:51:00.263-06:00</updated><title type='text'>ευγνώμων</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2q5gIsivfI/AAAAAAAAAAY/OjcW0QlAnN0/s1600-h/n36810178_31413817_351.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2q5gIsivfI/AAAAAAAAAAY/OjcW0QlAnN0/s320/n36810178_31413817_351.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146129485965475314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-5899579829912076578?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/5899579829912076578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=5899579829912076578' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/5899579829912076578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/5899579829912076578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/12/blog-post.html' title='ευγνώμων'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2q5gIsivfI/AAAAAAAAAAY/OjcW0QlAnN0/s72-c/n36810178_31413817_351.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-464906928737635892</id><published>2007-12-18T11:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-18T11:52:13.839-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Is This Existentialism?  Prolly Not.</title><content type='html'>I often ponder the fact that the choices I've made, one month ago, one year ago, or five years ago, are directly influencing my state of being at this very time and place.  Rather than feel remorseful or contemptuous, I am generally comforted by the idea of reaping what I sow.  It reduces the seeming senselessness of my life, what I am doing.  For the most part.  The other factors, unrelated to my choices, also have their cause-and-effect relationship with the goings-on in the big world, though I try not to toss too much responsibility that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My interpersonal relationships are influenced directly by my choices, while my relationship with the society in which I live is not so much within the bounds of my control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For instance, I am single because I didn't want to marry my Highschool Sweetheart (which at the time I saw as the inevitable outcome of being in that relationship), and I just have to accept that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can also see the influence of my choices in my friendships, though there is a little grain of wonder and mystery therein.  When I was almost incapable of making choices, and ran around Minneapolis like a Great Northern Wild Turkey with its head cut off, I happened upon the most wonderful group of friends a person could ask for, with whom I am still close.  I met these people by crashing parties, hosted by people I didn't know, alone.  So although I made direct choices, ie crashing parties, talking to the people I was drawn to, there is an unpredictable, fantastic element which coincides with the choice I made (or didn't make).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few years down the road, I'm thinking I got it all figured out, and start making 'informed' choices, like which bar to hang out in, what would be a cool drink to drink or a hip song to sing.  Choosing to associate with people, or sleep with them, or befriend them, based on a set of criteria only vaguely defined.  These have proved to be much poorer choices, compounding any feeling of worthlessness that may reside somewhere deep in my heart-crannies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds like I either need to get back to complete randomness, or stop trying to meet people.  The latter is much easier, and somehow lonlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for my relationship with society, as I mentioned above, its machinations effect my circumstances, indirectly and directly, and I make a continual effort to keep myself from casting all responsiblity for my fate onto the seemingly injust character of our economy and educational system.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically I feel like my generation is being royally gipped of opportunities which we've been told were guaranteed us if we fed the college machine our parents' life earnings, and our future incomes.  Totally not the  case.  The absurd unavailablity of affordable healthcare prevents the baby-boomers from retiring, keeps them clinging to their benefits packages, while recent graduates and nearly-homeless single mothers alike scramble for living-wage employment and as-needed doctor visits, all while attempting to pay student loans and/or feed children.  This is the gap between the middle/upper class and the rest of America.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In addition, our country has a standing army, which has been engaged by every single president in living memory.  Apparently there's always something that needs doing, though we all know this isn't necessarily the case.  We have made ourselves into the world's self proclaimed watchdogs in order to feed a military-industrial complex that will be the undoing of our ever so powerful nation, much like the Romans.  Our country supports the needs and interests of the top 1%, the rulers, while the rabble, aka the population, scurries around, short-changing, cheating, scrimping, and generally being miserable.  Every man for himself.  If that 1% doesn't start putting the interests of the rest of our population first, we are supremely fucked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hence, I could justify my feelings of failure and my inconsequential influence on the city I live in, the state, the country, with these lofty concepts, yet I refuse.&lt;br /&gt;I refuse because I see my friends pursuing their goals and dreams, having success, being happy with their place in life.  If they can do it I can too.  Maybe it's just a  frame of mind, rather than an action or choice.  Or maybe it is choices, directly.  I sense that most people I know are choosing to actively pursue the things that are important to them, to make life what they want it to be, while I allow myself to be buffeted and blown about by whatever socio-economic wind comes my way.  I need to start fucking the man (in more ways than one), but I don't know how.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm Katherine Peterson, I'm an emotional fuck up and a piece of social driftwood.  I'm going to change this, as soon as I figure out what to do about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-464906928737635892?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/464906928737635892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=464906928737635892' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/464906928737635892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/464906928737635892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/12/is-this-existentialism-prolly-not.html' title='Is This Existentialism?  Prolly Not.'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-7277358361618075865</id><published>2007-12-15T12:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T13:01:09.083-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Am Growing Young.</title><content type='html'>This dawned on me last night talking to Brian.  I feel that the more I know, the more experiences I have, the more I realize how limitless the possiblities of the world are.  Things can be so very, very, bad, and there is so much potential for good.  Everything spans out in both directions infinitely.  This makes me feel that I really know and understand nothing, much like a naieve child.  I feel like a lost virgin, like a blank slate with nothing to put forth, because I know and understand nothing.  This is in complete contrast to how I've felt my entire life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing I can compare it to is childhood.  Wide-eyed wonder and a complete lack of comprehension or ability to think critically about the things around me.  I simply do not understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus, I'm beginning to sense a sort of nameless fear and anxiety building within me.  I don't know what's out there, or what effect it will have on me, so I have cut myself off.  The idea of drunkeness, revelry, debauchery, bars, one night stands, puking, fighting...all these things are so repulsive to me that I fear them.  Once again, this is a total 180.  My lust for life has imploded on itself, and I don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a result, I'm completely closed off from the people who mean so much to me.  I feel like I don't know how to interact anymore.  Like everthing is cumbersome and awkward, and potentially...evil, somehow.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel completely adrift, alone, with nothing to cling to, rushing down a rapids, no raft, no bearings, no rock or branch to reach out for.  I don't feel close, or connected with anyone.  Not my mom, not Beau, not even the one person I see every day, as of late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This makes me completely miserable.  And I have no idea how to change it.  Even if I spent every minute with my friends, with people I do genuinely love, the same awkwardness and unease fills me, though it may not appear that way.  If someone reached out to me, tried to show me love, I don't think I would know how to accept it, at this point, and that is the one thing I always felt I was made to do, to give and receive love.  Maybe it's been so long since I've received it that I've lost the will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel deeply unloved, even though this is totally untrue.  And I feel sorry that I can't accept any love that might be offered, that that offering wouldn't change anything at this juncture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'll have to wait it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This too shall pass.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-7277358361618075865?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/7277358361618075865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=7277358361618075865' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/7277358361618075865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/7277358361618075865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-am-growing-young.html' title='I Am Growing Young.'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-5873644098376085758</id><published>2007-12-05T14:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-05T14:31:37.046-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I Fear</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/gertrudegetrude/061222-giant-squid.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/gertrudegetrude/stdv_907_4.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/gertrudegetrude/plague03-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/gertrudegetrude/rreaper4.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-5873644098376085758?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/5873644098376085758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=5873644098376085758' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/5873644098376085758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/5873644098376085758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/12/things-i-fear.html' title='Things I Fear'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-4697797077171535189</id><published>2007-12-01T18:40:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T18:44:50.281-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Night (Sort Of)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/gertrudegetrude/JohnsonACarCrashSomewhere.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was certainly more of a convergence than a wreck, but wow.  Life takes you where it may.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got confirmation that Ed is returning in February.  YAAAAAAAAY!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aubry will be back in a few weeks, as will Maureen.  Woman love ahoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom had her interview for one of her potential positions down here (this was part of the aforementioned pile-up).  It went really well and I am pining and hoping and praying for her to get called back for the 3rd and final round.  If not, she still has a second interview for a job in St. Paul on the 12th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas is going to be INTENSE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I am feeling cryptic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-4697797077171535189?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/4697797077171535189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=4697797077171535189' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/4697797077171535189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/4697797077171535189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/12/last-night-sort-of.html' title='Last Night (Sort Of)'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-1233860585603743307</id><published>2007-11-28T15:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T15:48:03.903-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Impressions of Our Modern Society</title><content type='html'>Here are a few things I've heard/received at work lately:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm never gonna get married because I'm BLACK!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A catalogue really would have helped me with my holiday shopping for all my little friends back on the mainland."  (MAJOR WTF).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And at the tail-end of an apology from an employee for stealing from (our) employer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"P.S. PLEASE let a sister keep her (store issued credit card)!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-1233860585603743307?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/1233860585603743307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=1233860585603743307' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/1233860585603743307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/1233860585603743307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/11/impressions-of-our-modern-society.html' title='Impressions of Our Modern Society'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-6493958952374989323</id><published>2007-11-26T08:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T09:16:35.490-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Imaginary Life</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I wish, or maybe wonder, that my biography will open with these lines:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;God grant that the reader, emboldened and having become at present as fierce as what he is reading, find, without loss of bearings, his way, his wild and treacherous passage through the desolate swamps of these sombre, poison-soaked pages; for, unless he should bring to his reading a rigorous logic and a sustained mental effort at least as strong as his distrust, the lethal fumes of this book shall dissolve his soul as water does sugar.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Comte de Lautreamont, &lt;u&gt;Les Chants du Maldoror&lt;/u&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been on a surrealistic/symbolist French poetry rampage.  Feeling bummed that I can't read in French.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something about winter makes me want to sit at home in pajamas and glasses and read about evil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do highly recommend the above, in addition to:&lt;br /&gt;Baudelaire, Les Fleurs du mal&lt;br /&gt;Rimbaud, Collected Works&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Special thanks to James for contributing to the beginnings of my collection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week, when I picked up the Rimbaud, my sort-of-buddy Rich who works there told me how Rimbaud, by way of Dragnet, got him in to literature, and acid.&lt;br /&gt;Apparently he was watching the show, when the detectives or whatever were called to 'a nightmarish scene'at a house where a teenage boy was dipping a paintbrush into the can and licking it.  On the floor were copies of Les Fleurs du mal and Une Saison en Enfer.  Rich thought this was pretty cool.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-6493958952374989323?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/6493958952374989323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=6493958952374989323' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/6493958952374989323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/6493958952374989323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/11/imaginary-life.html' title='Imaginary Life'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-6876462808936619902</id><published>2007-11-24T16:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-24T16:14:18.047-06:00</updated><title type='text'>RAAAR</title><content type='html'>Okay, I'm officially losing my marbles at work.  They did buy us pizza today, which was pretty cool, but man.  It was Pizza Hut, so we all felt pretty sick after.&lt;br /&gt;Then I asked Tena what "word to your mother" meant.  She burst out laughing and I belched.&lt;br /&gt;That's the extent of cube entertainment.&lt;br /&gt;Now I'll post some pictures in case you haven't seen these elsewheres:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/gertrudegetrude/Katies159.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shooting Guns on the Rez&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/gertrudegetrude/Katies142.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are the people I spent Highschool with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/gertrudegetrude/Katies134.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are  my parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/gertrudegetrude/Katies118.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are my brothers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/gertrudegetrude/Katies121.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is me and one of my favorite ladies, Edwina Margaret Kelly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a snapshot of my summer existance.  Ah, for the days of yore!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-6876462808936619902?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/6876462808936619902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=6876462808936619902' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/6876462808936619902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/6876462808936619902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/11/raaar.html' title='RAAAR'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-3149074262654741295</id><published>2007-11-21T10:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T11:26:43.165-06:00</updated><title type='text'>HERE I AM!</title><content type='html'>Okay, I'm actually going to start blogging again.  I was on a real rampage for a while there, and then I just randomly tapered off.  I will now offer a brief synopsis as to why this tapering occurred, and then I will return to your regularly scheduled content (as if I have any readers at this point), which includes mostly the mothballs which roll around in my brainial crevices, and random shit I find on the internet (even though I suck at the Internet).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here's the order of operations as pertains to the world of KtP:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Remember when I got that awesome art-dealer-assistant job, and as a result, that awesome apartment all to myself?  Well, I got laid off.  To this situation there were both pros and cons.&lt;br /&gt;-Pros:  I got paid to do jack shit at the gallery for about a month, as a sort of severance.&lt;br /&gt;-Cons:  The above is actually a pro &lt;i&gt;and&lt;/i&gt; a con. This lay-off flung me into the pit of despair, and the resulting lack of duties at the gallery gave me no 'pupose.'  So, I went on a crazed drinking escapade that lasted much longer than it should have, culminating in an unintended flight down a stairwell and almost-broken-hand.&lt;br /&gt;-Back to the Pros:  The combination of these aforementioned elements lead to forging two wonderful/pretty cool new friendships.  Numero Uno would be &lt;b&gt;Aubry&lt;/b&gt;, a Guamanian Princess of surpassing beauty and intelligence, and the kindest of hearts.  She is now counted among my BFFs.  Thank god for her.  She almost single-handedly made life bearable, and made me love Karaoke more than my left pinkie.&lt;br /&gt;Numero Dos is &lt;b&gt;Mr. Nicholas Pichet&lt;/b&gt;, who has been one of the more entertaining acquaintences I've made to date.  He is a very clever man, with many talents and many gadgets, which I love to tinker with, or just to watch him tinker with.  He also has a gorgeous singing voice, which augmented my already feverish enjoyment of Karaoke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Then Aubry moved to LA.  ULTIMATE SAD FACE.  SADSADSAD.  Why do all the good ones flee away?  Tell me!  Anna and Maureen in New York, Shelby in Madison, Aubry out West.  Sons of bitches!  But I still have Jocelyn and Sheila.  The girl tally, which must be consciously maintained lest I return to my less-than-satisfying tendancy to only associate with men, is less than 50/50 as pertains to MPLS.  Damn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Now I'm working for the Target Corporation, sitting in my little cubicle with my awesome cube-mate Tena, and writing blogs cause I have nothing better to do at the moment.  Hence, my return to the blogosphere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was pretty boring.  This probably will be too:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have, yet again, a &lt;b&gt;NEW LIFE PLAN&lt;/b&gt;.  This one is for real, motherfuckers.  I'm going to be a teacher!  A Highschool Lit Teacher, to be more precise.  Here are the steps I am taking towards this end:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I'm going to start Substitute and/or assistant teaching for the Minneapolis Public School system, or perhaps at a Charter or Alternative school.  As you can see, this stage is still in formation, as I am currently employed and only researching/preparing at the moment.  BUT I'M REALLY SERIOUS I SWEAR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Grad school.  I'm going to get an M.A. in Comparative Lit!  This is very very exciting, because it means I have an excuse to go study whatever I want, and get to move to New York for a spell.  My fear of grad school is gone, for it has now been bestowed with purpose.  FUCK YES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Teacher's Licence.  Teaching Job.  Maybe here, maybe elsewhere, we'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, you may ask, why do you choose such a career, Ms. Peterson?  Well, allow me to further ellucidate:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Teachers can be themselves.  There is no cookie-cutter expectation for the personality or lifestyle of a teacher.  As in,  you may choose to relate to  your students on your own terms, and you can teach anywhere.  Out on the plains, in a big city, in a small town.  The options are really (somewhat) endless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) You know your job is contributing to society in a way which can only be positive.  I firmly believe that education is the most important foundation of society, and if I can make it better, then I will die happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) It's the right level of challenge for me.  I'm not a ladder-climbing careerist.  It just doesn't interest me.  I've given up on glamour.  I want peace of mind and personal fufillment.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) I'd be good at it!  My biggest strengh is my ability to relate to people, to convey my views and feelings in an honest way, and to be open and receptive to the people around me.  And I like kids.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) Overall, being a teacher is an excuse to spend a lifetime learning, interacting, and doing good things, without all the bullshit of University Academia, which, in my opinion, sux.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there's my update.  As I said, I'll soon return to my usual drivel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;KtP&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-3149074262654741295?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/3149074262654741295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=3149074262654741295' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/3149074262654741295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/3149074262654741295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/11/here-i-am.html' title='HERE I AM!'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-4070910358963066123</id><published>2007-08-22T09:13:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-22T09:15:48.349-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Got Mis-Connection-ed (By a Girl)!</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;They call you Katie P - w4w - 22&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reply to: pers-402883997@craigslist.org&lt;br /&gt;Date: 2007-08-21, 10:12PM CDT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see you at Caffetto all the time; cute punky hairdo, loud laugh, you look like you love life. You're beautiful, and I hope you know that the world is noticing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Location: Caffetto, Mpls&lt;br /&gt;it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;////////////////////////11111111111111111\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOOM!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-4070910358963066123?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/4070910358963066123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=4070910358963066123' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/4070910358963066123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/4070910358963066123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-got-mis-connection-ed-by-girl.html' title='I Got Mis-Connection-ed (By a Girl)!'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-3088844545149126723</id><published>2007-08-08T11:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-08T11:47:18.209-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother Eff!</title><content type='html'>I'm in a sailor-moufed mood today.  Hope I can keep that in line round the old bossman.  But he drops the bomb a lot more than I do, I'll have you know.&lt;br /&gt;I am also in an expressive mood today, and I like it.  Oh, the wonders of strong coffee, that thick, dark magic potion that rouses me from the false realities of my sleep.&lt;br /&gt;Shelby drew a picture of herself as an octopus-mermaid, with a triton and an army of water-babies.  This is funny, first because the drawing is ingenious, and rather beautiful, but also because I was just musing about how I will spawn an army of minions.  Yes, this is my plan.&lt;br /&gt;Today I took an accidental step in that direction (no, I didn't get knocked up -- sorry mom, not quitting smoking yet).  I got a cat!!!  He is friendly, cuddly, and playful, and 1 year old.  He's on the chubby side (YES), he's &lt;i&gt;black&lt;/i&gt; (DOUBLE YES), and he's going to be named &lt;u&gt;BEAUREGARD&lt;/u&gt; (Beau for short)!!!!!!!!!!!!  I will be picking him up in a little more than a week, with litter-box, scratchy post, food and bowls included.&lt;br /&gt;This will be good.  I will have something to love, so I don't take to the streets and the bars in search of it.  I will stay home with my Beau and my movies and my tiny mansion.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-3088844545149126723?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/3088844545149126723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=3088844545149126723' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/3088844545149126723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/3088844545149126723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/08/mother-eff.html' title='Mother Eff!'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-2577374261118854765</id><published>2007-08-06T12:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T12:30:28.476-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mind of Ed</title><content type='html'>&lt;u&gt;Important Topics&lt;/u&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;1) 'Invisible Dog Fence'&lt;br /&gt;2) Made-up Welsh/not speaking&lt;br /&gt;3) Beans being good, feet being bad&lt;br /&gt;4) Kate's potential life as a woodshop mistress&lt;br /&gt;5) Ed's potential life as an American&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Important Discoveries&lt;/u&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;1) Minnesota is really hot&lt;br /&gt;2) American beer is good&lt;br /&gt;3) It's okay to have tattoos here&lt;br /&gt;4) In Minnesota, the boys are more like men, and have social skills.&lt;br /&gt;5) Burritos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what it has come down to.  This is good.&lt;br /&gt;Photographic record is pending final weekend of revelry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;///////////////////////////////*\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, preparing for the wedding of Emily Hagge and Scott Lukken; Kate, Connor, and Ed's Great Northwoods Voyage.&lt;br /&gt;My important discovery:&lt;br /&gt;Fastest beer-bong record at Jenny &amp; Ryan's housewarming party.  In heels.  First time for everything.  Yeah college!&lt;br /&gt;I might need a vacation from my vacation.  Next weekend I do nothing but cook, watch movies, and clean things.  Maybe I'll make something.  Anyone who cares to join me is welcome.  &lt;br /&gt;I am a lonely spinster.  I need a TV.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-2577374261118854765?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/2577374261118854765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=2577374261118854765' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/2577374261118854765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/2577374261118854765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/08/mind-of-ed.html' title='The Mind of Ed'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-1315549138094218760</id><published>2007-07-26T17:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T18:23:58.878-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Squid Vs. Unicorn</title><content type='html'>Edwina is here, and I am a happy camper, except for the times I have to rip myself away from her to go work.  I have new eyes towards everything in my life, and everyone has been so amazing to her (naturally, as she is amazing and my friends are wonderful).  The only bad thing is the fact that my car is exploding.  I described it to my dad, who diagnosed it as a clogged PCV valve, which is causing my engine to burn oil and evaporate it all over itself.  This sucks.  Oh well, Dick Donovan will fix it.  I have faith.&lt;br /&gt;I was initially worried about her being left to her own devices while I was at work, as she'll be here for 3 weeks, but, naturally, she's making friends and is very good at entertaining herself.  Also, with the length of her stay, having time apart will be a benefit to both of us in the long run.&lt;br /&gt;I have to stop writing now because Eric Carlson is fucking it up.&lt;br /&gt;Bye!&lt;br /&gt;Addendum: Dear Gertrudex2... Your life is worthless, as is life in general. May these moments of woe be engrained painfully into the depths of your shallow soul. Remember the anguish that is everyday, and pray that you will someday have the courage to bless our earth by cleansing away the wretched stain of life your life truly is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxo&lt;br /&gt;etc&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EXCUSE ME, MR., my horoscope says you are wrong:&lt;br /&gt;"the sublime can only be glimpsed by pressing through fear's boundary, beyond one's previous conceptions of the beautiful.  That's a good theme for you to experiment with right now, Aries.  According to my reading of the astrological omens, you're very close to making contact with splendor you'll remember all your life.  (And I don't use the fancy word splendor lightly).  You'll need a lot of playful courage to make the boundary-crossing.  But I know you can do it if you keep heading in the direction of what's scarily meaningful."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that pretty much sums it up.  &lt;br /&gt;KtP&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;Ummm. your faith and hope is inspired by the back of the City Pages? Case n Point. End that shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;........&lt;br /&gt;I, however, prefer to think that I can find joy in a crappy scrap of paper I found in the bin.  There's meaning in everything and I am on a mission to find it ALL.  It's mine!  My burning life force will overtake your gloomy cafe pirating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;Isn't that cute. Life force and star maps and a gleaming sphere of epic bullshit. Its nice being happy isnt it... until you realize your smile is a frail mask and a continuously failing attempt to imagine that things are all right. You'll soon awake to a beatiful day. Birds will sing as they sit upon a golden rainbow unicorn. A smile will split your face in two and you'll finally understand. The .45 is in the closet. Fully Loaded. You stand upon the random so and so you woke up next to. He wakes up to the barrel of your salvation. You save his life by ending it. You then save yours.&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..........&lt;br /&gt;Random so and so?  I don't think so.  I am the last bastion of true love.  My heart is swollen with the unabated will to make someone else's life as beautiful as mine, and that so and so will be nothing but lucky to make the most meager contact with me and my untainted soul.&lt;br /&gt;How is this going to end?  I think we've reached an impasse.  You're just too dark.    Don't talk to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...........&lt;br /&gt;You lie to yourself to postpone the inevitable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...........&lt;br /&gt;Oh right, dying alone in the woods, brambles in my hair.  The return to nature.  I forgot about that part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...........&lt;br /&gt;Suicide bomb. Mall of America.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;peace.&lt;br /&gt;I'm out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-1315549138094218760?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/1315549138094218760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=1315549138094218760' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/1315549138094218760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/1315549138094218760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/07/squid-vs-unicorn.html' title='Squid Vs. Unicorn'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-1674131594119286976</id><published>2007-07-16T11:27:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T11:38:06.066-06:00</updated><title type='text'>To Bemidji and Beyond!</title><content type='html'>Went up to the ancestral manse with my Grandma and Jesse Russell in tow.  Drive made me tired after long, stressful day at work.  Crashed on the couch immediately upon arrival.  I'd lost the keys to my boss' house Thursday, which more or less gave me an anxiety attack, then had to spend the whole day with him, feeling like a total delinquent.  As a result I am on a mission to be home by 11 every weeknight, and to imbibe on weekends only, and in moderation.  Yes yes I will be a real adult.  Also, as a result of this real-adult-ness, I am now a thousand-aire.  That feels pretty sweet.&lt;br /&gt;Went shopping with my tri-generational crew (Ma, Gma), and attended Emily Hagge's bridal shower.  Holy crap so much estrogen, fueled by champagne.  Lots of 'so are you dating anyone?  Who are you bringing to the wedding?' and the dreaded 'Are you and Jesse going to get back together?'  Alas.  I told them I was bringing a bum I found on the street.  And this is just the beginning.&lt;br /&gt;Saturday night Jesse and I went to the outer reaches of civilization, Puposky, to revel with Alex and Genevieve.  Bought beer on credit, simply by stating that I was Lisa Peterson's daughter.  'If we can't trust Lisa Peterson we might as well just shut down.'  Good to know my ma is held in high regard at such highly esteemed establishments as Noelle's Bottle Shop.  Out in Puposky went tearing around on backwoods trails in the dark in a Geo Tracker with a grill and chains on the tires.  Ramming down dead trees and rolling around in the back, which is sans-seats, while going over every type of bump and fallen tree imaginable.  I love the Belleveau manor more than anything.  Sat on a haybale in a field after a brief stop at a friendly Rez Bar known as Dale's.  Back to MPLS next day, ready for another week.  This time I'm getting serious.  SERIOUS.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-1674131594119286976?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/1674131594119286976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=1674131594119286976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/1674131594119286976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/1674131594119286976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/07/to-bemidji-and-beyond.html' title='To Bemidji and Beyond!'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-3711519937940833932</id><published>2007-07-08T15:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-07-08T15:39:40.655-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Multilayered Overview</title><content type='html'>Stuck at the shop, with rain pouring down.&lt;br /&gt;The thought of soggy shoes makes this vaguely tolerable.&lt;br /&gt;We all hold out here together, and my weekends are mine,&lt;br /&gt;though my body insists on thwarting me.  &lt;br /&gt;That could be my fault.&lt;br /&gt;At the moment, trapped in a feeling I'm sure many have felt before me,&lt;br /&gt;not wanting to feel, but wanting much more to &lt;i&gt;experience&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;It's like the hangman's noose.&lt;br /&gt;I could just slip out and walk away,&lt;br /&gt;but I like the roughness and weight around my neck,&lt;br /&gt;I want to give in to it's obligation,&lt;br /&gt;Spinster Death, holding out for the possiblity of&lt;br /&gt;someone coming to cut me down.&lt;br /&gt;But for now I'll stand on tip-toe, with the stool&lt;br /&gt;wobbling below.&lt;br /&gt;All the while making merry, smiling and throwing things.&lt;br /&gt;Working hard or hardly working?  Eh buddy?&lt;br /&gt;Dipping my toe down from the stool into the murky but&lt;br /&gt;somehow promising waters of adulthood.&lt;br /&gt;And what will be will be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-3711519937940833932?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/3711519937940833932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=3711519937940833932' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/3711519937940833932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/3711519937940833932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/07/multilayered-overview.html' title='Multilayered Overview'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-1375185992845170571</id><published>2007-07-06T08:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-07-06T08:58:02.723-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Suck at Blogging Lately</title><content type='html'>But my brother doesn't.  Check him out at his myspace page, 'Chief Wandering Echo.'  It's on my profile.&lt;br /&gt;Dude blows my mind.  Jambone Slamhammer, the one, the only, etc etc.&lt;br /&gt;As for Me (because that's what this is all about, right?), I am doing very well, by all accounts, though I've been feeling a little irritable during the last few days.  Maybe it's mom withdrawal.  Or the two week stint of drunkeness/not sleeping.  Just maybe.  But I'm getting shit back in order, starting right now.  I didn't go out last night.  Yes, I know.  Thank you, thank you.&lt;br /&gt;New job is good.  I'm at it right now.  Chris is talking to some big client who has $2 mil of art for sale, that we apparently want to buy.  I don't know, I'm not really filled in on that biz yet.  I mostly just file things and make orders for toner cartridges and stuff.  But we have been doing some inventory stuff and putting together a 100th anniversary collection of Curtis' photography, mostly portfolio photograveurs.  They're pretty.  &lt;br /&gt;AND I'm all moved into my new apartment, contrary to my previous report about August.  Fuck that, I'm out!  It rules.  Although I did lock myself out on the 4th of July.  It was an adventure.  Actually this whole last week has been an adventure.  Went to 4 parties with Anna, capped it all off with skinny dippin in Lake Calhoun in the full moon night.  'Like swimming in God's piss.'  Got up and moved my life the next day.  Went to work.  Hung out with my mom all day monday.  She is a trooper and a half.  1/2 way through our Ikea rampage, 'My beer meter is going off.  We gotta get out of here!'  Mommy.  Got Chang Mai takeout and gossiped about skanks.  Drank High Life and got dolled up to go out.  Went to Memory Lanes.  &lt;br /&gt;'Hey Katie.'  &lt;br /&gt;'Who are you?'  &lt;br /&gt;'Jeff.  We made out?'&lt;br /&gt;'Oh.  This is my mom.'&lt;br /&gt;That was a good start to our night.  Ma mingled like the pro she is and dissected my friend's relationships with Anna, although the catch is that she did it right in front of them.  That was funny.  Hung out with Bennett, Sheila, et al at the Hex, went back to Mem. Lanes where she was romanced by Matty Torbinson.  On and on.  In short, it was fun.&lt;br /&gt;Planning another rib fest for August.&lt;br /&gt;Hm, what else?  Tuesday night I went out for my first ever drink with a coworker, Ulises, the masseuse.  Hilarious.  2 double Jameson's deep, talkin bout life and bitching out co-workers.  Wtf.&lt;br /&gt;What else?  Ran into pretty much all of my friends from high school, totally randomly, at the Soap Box Factory after the fireworks.  Completely insane.  Genevieve won one of the categories in the 10 second film festival, which caused me to start freaking out, which Dory heard.  He found me, I found Gen and Alex, we went to Grumpy's, where we ran into yet another former comrade, Heather Boyer, who's boyfriend knows my friend Brooks, who was also there with my close homie Michael, who was Anna's first kiss.  INSANE.&lt;br /&gt;Now I am the spentest of the spent.  But Emily Hagge is coming down tonite, and we are going to take it easy and hang out all weekend.  Yessir.&lt;br /&gt;There, I blogged.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-1375185992845170571?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/1375185992845170571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=1375185992845170571' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/1375185992845170571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/1375185992845170571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-suck-at-blogging-lately.html' title='I Suck at Blogging Lately'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-3202234247325485898</id><published>2007-06-18T22:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-06-18T22:10:36.656-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I read, and I listened.</title><content type='html'>As I read this sentence,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"In a short time he filled not only his own house, but all of those in the village with troupials, canaries, bee eaters, and redbreasts.  The concert of so many different birds became so disturbing that Ursula would plug her ears with beeswax so as not to lose her sense of reality."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the sound of birds issued from the speakers of my record player, on an album I had never listened to.&lt;br /&gt;The song was Paris 1919 by John Cale.  The book was 100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.&lt;br /&gt;Life is beautiful. Mostly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-3202234247325485898?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/3202234247325485898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=3202234247325485898' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/3202234247325485898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/3202234247325485898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/06/i-read-and-i-listened.html' title='I read, and I listened.'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-7281241035146232745</id><published>2007-06-12T20:12:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-06-12T20:14:51.423-06:00</updated><title type='text'>GUESS WHAT WORLD</title><content type='html'>I got my dream job.  Pretty amazing.  I am very happy now - everything is going to change for me.  Like, everything.  I will make it so.&lt;br /&gt;I'm also going to get a single apartment in August.  Kind of exciting.  It's sort of a big step towards independence in a way, and I'm really looking forward to it.  &lt;br /&gt;I'm rich!  Let's party!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-7281241035146232745?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/7281241035146232745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=7281241035146232745' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/7281241035146232745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/7281241035146232745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/06/guess-what-world.html' title='GUESS WHAT WORLD'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-718306817650204042</id><published>2007-06-06T13:25:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-06-06T13:28:37.241-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Edwina Margaret Kelly</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/gertrudegetrude/n36803995_31943163_2770.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Pigs in Blankets - Christmas in Oxford'&lt;br /&gt;This woman is touching down stateside for the first time in her wild life, T Minus approximately 1 month.  I can barely stand the anticipation.&lt;br /&gt;MPLS, prepare yourself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-718306817650204042?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/718306817650204042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=718306817650204042' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/718306817650204042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/718306817650204042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/06/edwina-margaret-kelly.html' title='Edwina Margaret Kelly'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-1742058709912764507</id><published>2007-05-15T20:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-05-15T20:32:51.078-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Now I Am Freeeeeee</title><content type='html'>Submitted the final draft of my thesis last night.  Today my professor/advisor emailed me back -- I got an A!  That felt good.  I did a victory dance and jumped on my bed and called my Ma.  Now my free time is mine, to do as I wish.  Which pretty much means reading a million books (but only those that &lt;i&gt;I&lt;/i&gt; want to read) at Caffetto and teaching myself languages.  And lots of partying.  Summer is upon us!  Beaches, barbecues, road trips and other forms of glory.  Lay it on me baby.  I'm waiting.  And when I get bored of waiting I'll resort to the phone.  And the bike.  The new bike, which is coming soon!  Prepare for an onslaught of awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/gertrudegetrude/getcrazy.jpg"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-1742058709912764507?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/1742058709912764507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=1742058709912764507' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/1742058709912764507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/1742058709912764507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/05/now-i-am-freeeeeee.html' title='Now I Am Freeeeeee'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-4947764244650509059</id><published>2007-05-13T15:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-05-13T15:21:19.385-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Do The Strand!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/gertrudegetrude/jennygrad010.jpg"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-4947764244650509059?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/4947764244650509059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=4947764244650509059' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/4947764244650509059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/4947764244650509059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/05/do-strand.html' title='Do The Strand!'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-2254169492990265249</id><published>2007-05-08T23:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-05-08T23:03:18.123-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Owie</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/gertrudegetrude/n048.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart is beating so hard my ears are hot and red.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-2254169492990265249?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/2254169492990265249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=2254169492990265249' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/2254169492990265249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/2254169492990265249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/05/owie.html' title='Owie'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-6307108160778119365</id><published>2007-04-27T15:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-27T15:25:32.746-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Today is Yes</title><content type='html'>I finished my Thesis.&lt;br /&gt;The SA attendant lady told me I was pretty.&lt;br /&gt;I ran into friends.&lt;br /&gt;I love my mom.&lt;br /&gt;I'm rich.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Gert&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-6307108160778119365?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/6307108160778119365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=6307108160778119365' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/6307108160778119365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/6307108160778119365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/04/today-is-yes.html' title='Today is Yes'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-6281370887584225380</id><published>2007-04-25T16:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-25T16:09:47.294-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Renewed Faith in the Population of MPLS</title><content type='html'>From overheardinminneapolis.com:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Human nature is powerless to resist. It's a bridge. It's a spoon bridge, with a bright red cherry on the other end. The subliminal message is, climb over the bridge and touch the cherry. Everyone wants to.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-6281370887584225380?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/6281370887584225380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=6281370887584225380' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/6281370887584225380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/6281370887584225380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/04/renewed-faith-in-population-of-mpls.html' title='Renewed Faith in the Population of MPLS'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-7572745368788641468</id><published>2007-04-25T14:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-25T14:20:57.722-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mehhhhhzap!</title><content type='html'>Not feeling particularly motivated today.  Very scattered and all over the place.  I guess these things happen.  My diet and sleep have been so fucked lately that there isn't much hope for my brain.  Yesterday was bizzare -- my loss of appetite situation reached a new peak.  Food absolutely sucked.  I had half a bowl of cereal and half a bowl of soup and a slim fast, because it was the only thing with vitamins that I could stomach.  Work was absolutely absurd, and triggered a fainting spell which I managed to pull myself out of before keeling over behind the desk.  Afterwards I was completely drained.  Yet didn't go to sleep until 4 in the morning, which has become kind of a pattern as of late.  But I suppose not being able to sleep because you don't want to is better than having insomnia!  I feel like I'm rolling down a hill.  Exhilirating decline.  But not decline in the adult 'my life is in ruins' sense; it's the child-like abandon sense.  Which I suppose is my modus-operandi.  So all is well!  Mmm, problem solving via blog.  Love it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-7572745368788641468?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/7572745368788641468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=7572745368788641468' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/7572745368788641468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/7572745368788641468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/04/mehhhhhzap.html' title='Mehhhhhzap!'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-7540410269749675296</id><published>2007-04-18T15:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T15:51:44.148-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Check It!</title><content type='html'>I made another blog, BRAINSKILLZ.  There's a link down there on the right.&lt;br /&gt;Feedback, pleez!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-7540410269749675296?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/7540410269749675296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=7540410269749675296' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/7540410269749675296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/7540410269749675296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/04/check-it.html' title='Check It!'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-4471358417161952328</id><published>2007-04-18T13:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T14:02:01.978-06:00</updated><title type='text'>μέγασ ελληνικόσ !</title><content type='html'>Today at the U one of the Archaeology undergrads is giving a symposium on the O μηχανισμός των Αντικυθήρων (the Antikythera Mechanism), which was more or less the world's first computer, though it was analogue instead of digital.  Basically it's an astrological calculator, but the amazing thing is how advanced the mechanisms were.  It's comparable to 18th century clock-making.  A sponge diver found it off the Greek island Antikythera, and Jacques Cousteau was one of the divers who helped recover it.  It was on a Roman cargo ship, so there's lots of debate as to what they were doing with it.  The best guess is that it was being brought to Rome for one of Julius Caesar's triuphal processions, having been made at Rhodes (another Greek island), which was a center for engineering and mechanics, as there was an academy there founded by the Stoic philosopher Posidonius.  The craziest part is that the principles behind it's function are based on heliocentrism, rather than geocentrism, which was Aristotle's deal.  Heliocentrism was not popular.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't explain how it works, so here's what Wiki says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mechanism has 3 main dials, one on the front, and two on the back.&lt;br /&gt;The front dial is marked with the divisions of the Egyptian calendar, or the Sothic year, based on the Sothic cycle. Inside this there is a second dial marked with the Greek signs of the Zodiac. This second dial can be moved to adjust, with respect to the Sothic dial, to compensate for leap years.&lt;br /&gt;The front dial probably carried at least three hands, one showing the date, and two others showing the positions of the Sun and the Moon. The Moon indicator is ingeniously adjusted to show the first anomaly of the Moon's orbit. It is reasonable to suppose the Sun indicator had a similar adjustment, but any gearing for this mechanism (if it existed) has been lost. The front dial also includes a second mechanism with a spherical model of the Moon that displays the Lunar phase.&lt;br /&gt;Finally, the front dial includes a parapegma (a precursor to the modern day Almanac) used to mark the rising and setting of specific stars. Each star is thought to be identified by Greek characters which cross reference details inscribed on the mechanism.&lt;br /&gt;The upper back dial, is in the form of a spiral, with 47 divisions per turn, displaying the 235 months of the 19 year Metonic cycle. This dial contains a smaller subsidiary dial which displays the 76 year Callippic cycle. (There are 4 Metonic cycles within 1 Callippic cycle.) Both of these cycles are important in fixing calendars.&lt;br /&gt;The lower back dial is also in the form of a spiral, with 223 divisions showing the Saros cycle. It also has a smaller subsidiary dial which displays the 54 year Exeligmos cycle. (There are 3 Saros cycles within 1 Exeligmos cycle.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOLY SHIT!&lt;br /&gt;All this in a 33x17x9cm bronze case.  It was tiny for what it did, and the time it was made.&lt;br /&gt;BEHOLD THE GREEK BRAIN POWERS.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-4471358417161952328?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/4471358417161952328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=4471358417161952328' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/4471358417161952328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/4471358417161952328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/04/blog-post.html' title='μέγασ ελληνικόσ !'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-1376942169258841143</id><published>2007-04-17T10:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-17T10:33:37.448-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Poetry &amp; Science</title><content type='html'>"In most poems I am going back and forth from the microscopic to the visible, from the exploding stars to human tenderness and fear, from the objective to the subjective, in order to get some temporary assurance."&lt;br /&gt;-Czech immunologist and poet Miroslav Holub&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/gertrudegetrude/2005-0610casa-full.jpg"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-1376942169258841143?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/1376942169258841143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=1376942169258841143' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/1376942169258841143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/1376942169258841143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/04/poetry-science.html' title='&lt;i&gt;Poetry &amp; Science&lt;/i&gt;'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-717904642606679512</id><published>2007-04-16T22:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-16T22:55:09.607-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Season's Best</title><content type='html'>Best bike ride since I've been back, possibly.  Sheila pumped my tires up (couldn't find the apt. pump), and the ride home was pure glory.  I was like a midnight speed-racer, whipping between the lanes, unseen by all but the scrawny black cats which scrambled out of my way (I wasn't phased).  The wind was whipping all around, trying to blow me over, but I could've cared less.  I was the embodiment of the storm's eye.  I guess my powder blue baby isn't so bad after all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-717904642606679512?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/717904642606679512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=717904642606679512' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/717904642606679512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/717904642606679512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/04/seasons-best.html' title='Season&apos;s Best'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-8005187803168154802</id><published>2007-04-12T20:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-12T20:52:46.808-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Result</title><content type='html'>So, the conclusion of my last post...WORST DECISION EVER.  But I guess I know now.....&lt;br /&gt;Apologies to everyone I scared the shit out of.  I'm alive.  Kendra has been taking amazing care of me all night &amp; day.&lt;br /&gt;I'm so lucky to have an amazing friend to force me to drink water and to spoon me.  Work tomorrow should be interesting.  I need to go to bed soon.  Lesson learned!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-8005187803168154802?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/8005187803168154802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=8005187803168154802' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/8005187803168154802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/8005187803168154802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/04/result.html' title='The Result'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-1799754535149759627</id><published>2007-04-11T12:59:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-11T13:07:16.216-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Owie!</title><content type='html'>My throat is a raging battle zone of illness.  I hurt.&lt;br /&gt;LIfe plan is in progress.  Had my interview at Calhoun Cycle today...really hope it works out. I'm supposed to find out beginning of next week.  &lt;br /&gt;Connor and I went out to celebrate his birthday last night and came to the conclusion that we're going to move in together.  There're a lot of cool 1 bedrooms around Whittier/Stevens for really cheap.  I'm shooting for the under $600/month range.&lt;br /&gt;(BTW, the bedroom will not be shared.  I'll most likely be relegated to the living room space, as Connor hasn't had a bedroom for like 2 years).  I personally think there should be a ladies first rule, but whatever.  I can deal.  Last night we were a little buzzed up and making crazy plans to learn French together and go to Paris next year.  That would be intense/amazing, depending on how well we end up getting along, cooped up together.&lt;br /&gt;So my summer of self-improvement and biking and living cheap is becoming a real possibility.  This is good.&lt;br /&gt;God, I'm so sick.  I hope I can make it through Voltage.  Might have to take some of the oxycodone I've hoarded.  Maybe starting now.  Anchors aweigh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-1799754535149759627?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/1799754535149759627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=1799754535149759627' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/1799754535149759627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/1799754535149759627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/04/owie.html' title='Owie!'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-2599987945152781062</id><published>2007-04-08T20:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-08T20:12:11.765-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Exhausdead</title><content type='html'>Woah.  That was a whirlwind week/end.  Went up to Bemidji Wednesday to get my car fixed, which turned into what should have been an episode of the Amazing Race.  Me and the '89 Dodge Colt versus fucking adverse road conditions for 2 hours, with semi trucks blasting by my wiper-less car in the 2" slush and ice.  Got to mom's house, cracked open a beer, felt better.  Got some life-plan shit under control.  Things are working, hopefully.  The car took longer to fix than expected, so I was layed over in Bemidji and soon to be late for work.  Ma and I went to pick up my car Thursday morning, and &lt;b&gt;WHAM&lt;/b&gt; we get rear-ended by a big red truck, which more or less takes the back end off mom's car.  Great!  Drove back to MPLS, worked for 6 hrs, then came home and fucking crashed.  Friday at work was long and painful.  Show at the Turf was stellar.  Skoal Kodiak is the music of my soul.  Saw some peeps, had some beers, the usual.  Then Saturday I got my hair did, went shopping and generally hung out with Kendee, including a pit stop in Golden Valley to hang out with her ma and the 'little things.'  Birthday party was bitchin, now I'm wiped.&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully gonna get a call from Calhoun Cycle this week for an interview.  Car is fixed, first goal is completed, second goal in progress.  Now I need to find a new place.  Yeah!  LET'S DO IT.&lt;br /&gt;Don't have too many plans for the week, other than working full time and takin care of business.  Still haven't done my taxes....this is boring.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-2599987945152781062?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/2599987945152781062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=2599987945152781062' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/2599987945152781062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/2599987945152781062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/04/exhausdead.html' title='Exhausdead'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-3182365228475333594</id><published>2007-04-03T18:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T18:12:47.579-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How'd That Happen?</title><content type='html'>At this particular point in time I am more or less disgusted, disappointed, bored, and sick of everthing.  Except Kendra Grant Malone.  I can't think of anything I want to do, or anyone I want to see, except for her, sitting on my bed, sharing ciggarettes and Tisdale and stories with me.&lt;br /&gt;Things need to change.  &lt;b&gt;Everything&lt;/b&gt; needs to change.  Job.  Living situation.  Car.  Mainly my complete and utter lack of motivation to accomplish any of these alterations.&lt;br /&gt;Goal:  get through this week by going through the motions.  Then its BIRTHDAY TIME.  Then I will see some light in all the faces I do adore, despite my aforementioned predilection for one person in particualr.  After this fucking hideous car shit is taken care of, then I will start on the other things.  I Will.  Really.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-3182365228475333594?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/3182365228475333594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=3182365228475333594' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/3182365228475333594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/3182365228475333594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/04/howd-that-happen.html' title='How&apos;d &lt;i&gt;That&lt;/i&gt; Happen?'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-7336714417493888099</id><published>2007-03-30T17:28:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-30T17:28:56.737-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Today</title><content type='html'>I am weary.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-7336714417493888099?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/7336714417493888099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=7336714417493888099' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/7336714417493888099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/7336714417493888099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/03/today.html' title='Today'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-2042920038462095422</id><published>2007-03-28T14:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-28T14:42:53.150-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Missed Connections Find</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;O how life would be so sweet. If my face was your bicycle seat.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking tons about my new bike.  Very, very excited.  The same day Jake told me our party was a go, my momma gave me the thumbs up to start building.  I didn't sleep that night.  Too busy dreaming about aluminum frames, mud wrestling, and Jameson punch bowls.  &lt;br /&gt;Still deciding between the Hub and Behind Bars.  If I'd be happy with the Masi Speciale Fixed as-is (at BB), that might be cheaper and faster than building something at the Hub.  Nick's warnings about Chuck going completely crazy made me wary, though.  Seems like Bennett and others have had very positive experiences at the Hub on Minnehaha, so I think I'll check that out first.  Plus, I might learn something.&lt;br /&gt;Here's what I want, tentatively:&lt;br /&gt;Aluminum frame and carbon fork&lt;br /&gt;Mustache bars&lt;br /&gt;Single speed&lt;br /&gt;-I hate hand brakes, so now I'm having this debate about if I can make a freewheel with coaster brakes, or if it would be easier and cheaper to just make it a fixie.  The Masi has a flip-flop fixed cog/freewheel, but that would require a hand brake on the front.  Poo to that.&lt;br /&gt;-It might also be easier to just get a Bianchi Pista, cause it's pretty much what I want, but we'll see.&lt;br /&gt;This baby's gonna be sleek, beautiful, and fast-as-hellllllllllllll.  I will cut through Minneapolis like a knife!  Feel my tailwind, eat spokes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some pictures:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/gertrudegetrude/speciale_fixed-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/gertrudegetrude/cca7ec8fbc-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beauty!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-2042920038462095422?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/2042920038462095422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=2042920038462095422' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/2042920038462095422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/2042920038462095422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/03/missed-connections-find.html' title='Missed Connections Find'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-8777407996664631056</id><published>2007-03-24T11:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-24T12:29:25.970-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Schemeing/Dreaming</title><content type='html'>I've been wanting to try nanny-ing for a while, but didn't really know how one 'breaks into the market.'  Boom-kapowie, Charmaine, a stylist at work, has lost her daycare man, and has asked me to fill in next month, after I offered my services.  She has an infant and a 6 year old, both girls.&lt;br /&gt;I'm really excited!  I get to play mommy.  Don't know if I'll be good at it.......but I will give it my best shot.&lt;br /&gt;In honor of this, I'll copy a poem from a children't book I found at Kendra's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rain is raining all&lt;br /&gt;   around.&lt;br /&gt;It falls on field and tree.&lt;br /&gt;It rains on the umbrellas&lt;br /&gt;   here&lt;br /&gt;And on the ships at sea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Robert Louis Stevenson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have fantasies of reading them Alice in Wonderland and writing stories and teaching them French (while I teach it to myself).&lt;br /&gt;Probably not going to happen, but hey, I can scheme.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that, I've had a very pleasant couple of days.  Yesterday I picked up a shift at Uptown from some girl who was having a meltdown.  She gave me 50 bucks for doing it, so I treated myself to Chang Mai Thai for lunch/dinner.  SO GOOOOOD.&lt;br /&gt;Then I went to an open show with Kendee and the roommates, which was pretty neat.  New scene, new peeps, lots of woman love.  Woah!  I just remembered that I ran into Terese Elhard!  Crazy shit.  (We went to highschool together and I haven't seen her since.  Now she's at MCAD evidently).&lt;br /&gt;I stayed over at the House of Wive$, and then we got up and went to the Wedge and made bisquits and gravy with yummy sweet Italian sausage.  i de-cased it, and that was weird.  But when we were buying the sausage, Kendra and I were wishing we could buy scallops, and the deli guy said: 'Scallops are very dear."  I told him he sounded like the Walrus from Alice, and he started quoting one of his monologues!  It made me jump and clap.  What a guy.&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm gonna go home and clean myself up and &lt;i&gt;maybe&lt;/i&gt; work on my thesis of doom.&lt;br /&gt;Happy days!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-8777407996664631056?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/8777407996664631056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=8777407996664631056' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/8777407996664631056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/8777407996664631056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/03/schemeingdreaming.html' title='Schemeing/Dreaming'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-2258948767855560304</id><published>2007-03-21T14:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-21T14:10:27.945-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Things Which are Impending</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;EXCITED&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*My birthday is coming!  On Easter Sunday!  I love birthdays.  One more year of worldly knowledge, like a big cushion that grows beneath me.&lt;br /&gt;*I might be getting a custom bike for bday/graduation.  I hope.&lt;br /&gt;*Carly, who was also born on the 8th, is organizing a party for us, at Ft. Awesome, on Sat. April 7th.  Mark the calendars.&lt;br /&gt;*We're gearing up for another RIBFEST.  Yes to raking, beer, and riiiiiiiibs, at Casa de la Peterson.  Sounds like it's going to be a MPLS exodus.  More info later.&lt;br /&gt;*I'm hanging out with my bro today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;NOT EXCITED&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Work sucks&lt;br /&gt;*Should I find a new job, or be a vagrant 'writer'?&lt;br /&gt;*Must finish thesis.  Fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;NOT SURE&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*New diet/excercise plan for summer&lt;br /&gt;*Smoking less, maybe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-2258948767855560304?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/2258948767855560304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=2258948767855560304' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/2258948767855560304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/2258948767855560304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/03/things-which-are-impending.html' title='Things Which are Impending'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-7213273004739984979</id><published>2007-03-19T20:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-19T20:51:02.383-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Introspection Fest!</title><content type='html'>I don't really think about myself all that much.  That's not to say I lack self-interest, for I know I can be a bit cutthroat/self-preserving in certain ways (mostly relating to food, beer, and weed, and how I can get my hands on them).  But I never really do all that much analysis.  I simply lack the predilection for obsessive pondering.&lt;br /&gt;Lately I've at least taken a passing fancy to considering what I am.  I understand how I got this way, surely, but I can't seem to grasp what 'this way' is, and if it is good.&lt;br /&gt;Being objective is extremely difficult.  I vascilate between assuming my lack of self-knowledge and restraint lends me charm, in a sort of unbridled way.  But then I wonder:  am I loud, overbearing and obnoxious?  I feel my more aggresive qualities are motivated soley towards sharing myself and drawing others out, but what if I'm just pushy?  I suppose it doesn't matter, as it's gotten me some of the best, most loving and wonderful friends a person could dream of.  Womanly women who lift me up into the outer limits of my brain, pull me down into the comfy nest of my heart and tummy, and jump headlong into untamed wilderness at my side.  Manly men who expect nothing of me, require nothing, but are just &lt;i&gt;there&lt;/i&gt;, ready to party, schmooze, cuddle, or just sit and stare.  &lt;i&gt;What is this, then?  I do not ask any more delight, I swim in it as in a sea.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should a person try to control themself?  To mold themself into the most functional person they can be?  Or should we just listen to my mom, and be what we are?  I think I prefer the latter.&lt;br /&gt;Another contradictory issue that wiggles around in the back of my mind is how my motivations are percieved.  The funny thing is that I completely lack forethought in my general interactions.  It's always seemed to me that people do certain actions in order to produce a certain response, as though they're thinking on two simultaneous plains while talking to someone or other.  I just spew.  I'm very bad at being manipulative (probably because I suck at lying), but I can be very persuasive (because I have sneaky logic).  Or because I'm pushy.&lt;br /&gt;But O please please just let me push you!  I'll take you places and do things to you and knock you down while picking you up and then I'll love you till you sleep.  All of you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-7213273004739984979?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/7213273004739984979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=7213273004739984979' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/7213273004739984979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/7213273004739984979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/03/introspection-fest.html' title='Introspection Fest!'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-5557735511039639297</id><published>2007-03-18T19:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-18T19:59:23.257-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Brian Ferry is my Role Model</title><content type='html'>Also, check out Eno's pants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-F2X5Qrgo0Y"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-F2X5Qrgo0Y" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-5557735511039639297?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/5557735511039639297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=5557735511039639297' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/5557735511039639297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/5557735511039639297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/03/brian-ferry-is-my-role-model.html' title='Brian Ferry is my Role Model'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-2426906411518795068</id><published>2007-03-18T14:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-18T15:00:26.493-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bemidji/Bust</title><content type='html'>Well, had a wonderful lovely time up north with Mama.  In the immortal words of The Cars, it was Just What I Needed.  Ate, layed on the couch, got waited on and generally mothered.  Only one menopausal breakdown, due to Dad, but he left for a golf trip the next day.  Shopped, went out to eat, lots of chatting.  In the Sad But Sweet category, she had a little depression breakdown after I left.  All she could find to do was wash some towels and send me a text message.  Awww.  I hope I can take care of her someday.  Although I suppose I already do, on an emotional level.  Though I'm sure I cause an equally proportional amount of worry and strife.&lt;br /&gt;Drove home Friday and went straight to Kendra's.  So much woman love these last couple days.  Lonely Hearts Club.  But one can only be so lonely when they have a fairly constant stream of mutual adoration bouncing around.  We drank some wine (Tisdale, how I love thee) and went to a house party, which was mildly amusing.  Still mind-blown by So-and-So's DUI story.  Not sure how guilty/responsible to feel.  I suppose I'll just let it slip into my subconscious somewhere, along with lots of other slightly depressing things which I choose to block out.  I wonder if they'll all burst forth one day in some sort of watery deluge.  What would be the trigger?  I guess I can't even imagine what pain or suffering is.  Never been there.&lt;br /&gt;Last night was generally more of the same.  I'm having a hard time understanding how I can push myself to such extremes.  I almost certainly should have been in bed at about 9 o'clock.  Yet........alas.  Live while you're young, that's what I always say!  Was very nice to chat with Jake, who I haven't really talked to in a few months.  And Carly!  What a dear heart.  Wondering how to get our friendship back to the place it was before I went abroad.  There's the sentiment, but not the action.  Isn't that just the way of it?&lt;br /&gt;Going to try and have a productive week.  Apply for more jobs, WORK ON THESIS.  IthinkIcanIthinkIcan.&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, for Kendra, SS:&lt;br /&gt;Lugete, O Veneres Cupidinesque,&lt;br /&gt;et quamtumst hominum venustiorum.&lt;br /&gt;passer mortuus est meae puellae.&lt;br /&gt;passer, deliciae meae puellae,&lt;br /&gt;quem plus illa suis oculis suis amabat:&lt;br /&gt;nam mellitus erat suamque norat&lt;br /&gt;ipsam tam bene quam puella matrem;&lt;br /&gt;nec sese a gremio illius movebat, &lt;br /&gt;sed circumsiliens modo huc modo illuc&lt;br /&gt;ad solum dominam usque pipiabat. &lt;br /&gt;qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum&lt;br /&gt;illuc, unde negant redire quemquam.&lt;br /&gt;at vobis male sit, malae tenebrae&lt;br /&gt;Orci, quae omnia bella devoratis:&lt;br /&gt;tam bellam mihi passerem abstulistis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;o factum malle!  o miselle passer!&lt;br /&gt;tua nunc opera meae puellae&lt;br /&gt;flendo turgiduli rubent ocelli.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;(You can just type the first lines into google, dear, it will be found immediately).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-2426906411518795068?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/2426906411518795068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=2426906411518795068' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/2426906411518795068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/2426906411518795068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/03/bemidjibust.html' title='Bemidji/Bust'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-487576403578791219</id><published>2007-03-09T18:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-09T18:05:22.797-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Someone Gets It</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/gertrudegetrude/n69000382_30055579_2948.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;abomb posted this on Mar 09th, 2007 at 05:37:11 pm&lt;br /&gt;Oh wow, gertrude!. It looks like you are lost on some sort of ship of fools stranded in the Bermuda triangle. Was there a crazy jilted bride at your floating high school? Was it existential? Did you eat the little guy in the front row????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From a pictorial discussion concerning whether or not we got laid in highschool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-487576403578791219?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/487576403578791219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=487576403578791219' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/487576403578791219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/487576403578791219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/03/someone-gets-it.html' title='Someone Gets It'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-2774972025284854204</id><published>2007-03-08T00:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-08T00:48:03.348-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Even Try to Resist</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tDr7yPjeVqw"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tDr7yPjeVqw" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-2774972025284854204?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/2774972025284854204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=2774972025284854204' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/2774972025284854204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/2774972025284854204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/03/dont-even-try-to-resist.html' title='Don&apos;t Even Try to Resist'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-7353524990203586069</id><published>2007-03-08T00:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-08T00:36:28.099-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It Can Be a Sweet Thing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a327/gertrudegetrude/unrequitedlove111.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-7353524990203586069?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/7353524990203586069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=7353524990203586069' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/7353524990203586069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/7353524990203586069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/03/it-can-be-sweet-thing.html' title='It Can Be a Sweet Thing'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-8196874274334936786</id><published>2007-03-07T22:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-07T22:52:46.410-06:00</updated><title type='text'>For Curious Minds</title><content type='html'>I don't know that being curious about this would do you any good, or get you anywhere you need to be, but people have been asking me what my thesis is about.  I tend to stare blankly by way of response, due to the fact that I can't sum any of it up, ever.&lt;br /&gt;I'm working on it right now, and I think I can eek out a brief explanation.&lt;br /&gt;Let's begin with the basics:&lt;br /&gt;I'm writing about Ovid, a slightly lesser-known Latin poet from the Augustan era (also includes Virgil, Horace, Propertius), which was the height of Roman poetry, thanks to the patronage of Maecenas, a crony of the 1st Emperor, Augustus, formerly Octavian, adopted son of Caesar.  I'm focusing on episodes of Love and Rape within the Metamorphoses, the longest Latin poem, which was written just after Virgil completed the Aeneid.  The Aeneid was meant to represent the culmination of Latin poetry (which it was), to signify a transfer of cultural dominance from Greece to Rome, and to glorify Augustus, which was a tough job, only barely pulled off by Virgil.  In the Metamorphoses, Ovid tries to subvert the themes which drive the Aeneid, while forging a new type of poetry, merging the ideas of Epic and Elegy.  (The Aeneid is the consummate Epic).  Ovid had written several books of Elegy (love poetry), before attempting Epic in the Metamorphoses.  Therfore, the poem explores not only the transformations of its characters, but the 'morphing' of Ovid's art.  The sweet part is that Ovid contrives to present the Aeneid as a mere precursor to his own Metamorphoses.  Baaaad aaaaaaass.&lt;br /&gt;On to Love and Rape:&lt;br /&gt;There are something like 50 episodes of rape in the Met, compared to about 20 love stories.  Weird, huh?&lt;br /&gt;I'm kind of talking about how these episodes carry the major themes of the Met, while also considering the fact that they make their own statement, independent from the greater themes of the poem.&lt;br /&gt;1) Human Psychology/Emotion --- fear in particular.&lt;br /&gt;-love stories focus on fear of separation (which is inevitable), rape stories discuss fear of rejection (male) and fearing the loss of self-possession (female), which, as defined by the love stories, is necessary for reciprocal love.&lt;br /&gt;2) Change and Transgression --- this is Ovid subverting Virgil&lt;br /&gt;-examines multiple interpretations/outcomes of the same subject or theme, ie narcissistic love, jealous love, devoted love, love at different stages/levels of commitment, applies language of desire, pursuit, fear to both sexes, passive and active actions from both genders, changing perspectives.&lt;br /&gt;-inversion of classical themes, ie women pursuing men, men being raped, nymphs being chaste followers of Diana rather than sexually available playthings for the gods.&lt;br /&gt;-lots and lots of perversion, ie incest, homosexuality, torture etc etc.&lt;br /&gt;I might try to link the concept of fear within the Met. to the transformations themselves.  In the love stories, transformation is typically unifying, while in the rape episodes it dehumanizes the female, particularly due to the fact that rape victims turn into inanimate objects, while lovers turn into animals.  Good fear vs. bad fear?  Women shouldn't get so worked up about being raped?  I don't really want to portray Ovid in that light though, nor do I believe that was his motive.  However, it's impossible to say without diving into the murky waters of anachronism.&lt;br /&gt;Okay, that's all I'm going to attempt to say.  Next time someone asks, I'm referring them to my blog.  POWERDORK.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-8196874274334936786?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/8196874274334936786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=8196874274334936786' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/8196874274334936786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/8196874274334936786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/03/for-curious-minds.html' title='For Curious Minds'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-7692449599580061259</id><published>2007-03-05T23:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-05T23:53:55.835-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Big Time Excitement</title><content type='html'>Last night I was sitting around in Caffetto, working on this blog, making my new email, etc, and I decided to apply to a few law firms for receptionist/admin positions on Craigslist.  I figured, what the hell?  Why not try to get a decent paying job?  &lt;br /&gt;Today I was contacted by the HR department for one of these mysterious 'law firms,' and they invited me to submit a formal application.  Woo doggies, there's gold in them thar hills!  The job description lists the salary as $31k+.  Holy shit.  I could pay my bills and student loans and stuff!....and sell my soulllllll.  But that's a pretty small price to pay, especially when it's temporary.&lt;br /&gt;So we shall see what comes of this experiment in Real Life Employment.  Sure beats the hell out of the Nazi regime known as Juut.  Actually, law firms are probably Nazist as well.  Whatever.  Dolla$.&lt;br /&gt;I'll keep you posted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-7692449599580061259?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/7692449599580061259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=7692449599580061259' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/7692449599580061259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/7692449599580061259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/03/big-time-excitement.html' title='Big Time Excitement'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-167869203691464967.post-537444551217570150</id><published>2007-03-04T20:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-04T20:22:19.068-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Follow, But Sometimes I Do Lead</title><content type='html'>So the streamlined and attractive nature of James and Kendra's blogs have wooed me over to La Blogspot.  Maybe I will be more prolific if I compose in a lovlier environment?&lt;br /&gt;I don't hate my livejournal, but like an old diary, it needs to be cast aside when the demeanor associated with it's origin has been left in the dust of growth and change.  In other words, I'm done wit dat shit.  However, I did choose to maintain my watery theme.  (My livejournal was titled: Lost at Sea (And I Like It)).  There are still parts of me that love the more meandering elements of life, but I am now in a position of constant flux and uncertainty, making 'Lost' a pretty unwelcome word.  Unless I'm getting lost, entirely, with no responsibilities or cares.  Or getting Awesome, then I'm okay with being Lost.  I do enjoy the cable program though, even when sober.  The weird thing is that I'm a fire sign.  Not sure why I'm drawn to aquatic metaphors.  Anchor tattoo?  Maybe I have a death wish.  Destructive personality type?  I hate water, but it seems I have an urge to drown.&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to make March a fairly dry month, as far as the rivers of booze I like to swim in are concerned.  I have a tiny bit more money now, and I think it'll be much easier to keep it that way if I curtail my intake of Jameson (or rail Scotch, as it were).  I'm also going to try to eat better.  Pizza/Macncheese/sandwich diet be dammned!  So far I have failed, utterly and completely.  Oh well.  Tomorrow is a new day.  And I haven't run out of groceries yet.  And I still need lessons from Katrina.&lt;br /&gt;I love that I know someone named Katrina, and particularly this Katrina.  My dad's nickname for me was Bunny Katrina.  My mom's is Worthless Turd.  Tevs.  I also share her nickname for one of our dogs, which says alot.  But don't get the wrong idea!  My mama is the most wonderful human being in the world.  She is my mirror, and my role model in every way, and a one-woman ball of joy and support.&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm running out of crap to talk about.  But here's to Newness, and Brain-gasms, and metaphysical cliff-diving.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/167869203691464967-537444551217570150?l=rudytrude.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/feeds/537444551217570150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=167869203691464967&amp;postID=537444551217570150' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/537444551217570150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/167869203691464967/posts/default/537444551217570150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rudytrude.blogspot.com/2007/03/i-follow-but-sometimes-i-do-lead.html' title='I Follow, But Sometimes I Do Lead'/><author><name>Gertrude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00445801418010888104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_cuPtttFxCr0/R2Fk4C6cxwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/U-28-BpU7ug/S220/th_Katies090-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
