<?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-5189220906598565217</id><updated>2011-07-07T23:41:03.017+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Take it and run with it.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jasmine Nicolette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16467956681413735987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/TAZzK3Fs2iI/AAAAAAAAAB4/E-tCKWreDrI/S220/30048_813158965845_9427011_45294082_8028384_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>19</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220906598565217.post-8833007418232144604</id><published>2010-01-21T11:53:00.002Z</published><updated>2010-01-21T11:55:24.074Z</updated><title type='text'>From the book Bless Me, Ultima</title><content type='html'>"Love life, and if despair enters your heart, look for me in the evenings&lt;br /&gt;when the wind is gentle and the owls sing in the hills.&lt;br /&gt;I shall be with you." -Ultima&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5189220906598565217-8833007418232144604?l=nikkicrane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/feeds/8833007418232144604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5189220906598565217&amp;postID=8833007418232144604' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/8833007418232144604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/8833007418232144604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/2010/01/from-book-bless-me-ultima.html' title='From the book Bless Me, Ultima'/><author><name>Jasmine Nicolette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16467956681413735987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/TAZzK3Fs2iI/AAAAAAAAAB4/E-tCKWreDrI/S220/30048_813158965845_9427011_45294082_8028384_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220906598565217.post-1889620725025199978</id><published>2010-01-08T23:08:00.003Z</published><updated>2010-01-08T23:27:21.199Z</updated><title type='text'>Lessons From Oprah</title><content type='html'>There is something to be said for Oprah being one of the most influential women in the world.&lt;br /&gt;Today on and episode about women finding out their spouses have secrets, she&lt;br /&gt;references a lesson by Maya Angelou in which she says,&lt;br /&gt;"The first time someone shows you who they are, believe them."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oprah elaborates by saying that once someone lies, accept them as a liar. Once someone cheats, accept them as someone with the capability to cheat again, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only more women could accept that, I feel like everyone would be a little bit stronger and a little bit happier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5189220906598565217-1889620725025199978?l=nikkicrane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/feeds/1889620725025199978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5189220906598565217&amp;postID=1889620725025199978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/1889620725025199978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/1889620725025199978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/2010/01/lessons-from-oprah.html' title='Lessons From Oprah'/><author><name>Jasmine Nicolette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16467956681413735987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/TAZzK3Fs2iI/AAAAAAAAAB4/E-tCKWreDrI/S220/30048_813158965845_9427011_45294082_8028384_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220906598565217.post-3063103549713678656</id><published>2010-01-08T01:29:00.001Z</published><updated>2010-01-08T01:31:32.869Z</updated><title type='text'>Parents do not have it figured out.</title><content type='html'>Unsupportive, condescending, and discouraging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rage.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5189220906598565217-3063103549713678656?l=nikkicrane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/feeds/3063103549713678656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5189220906598565217&amp;postID=3063103549713678656' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/3063103549713678656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/3063103549713678656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/2010/01/parents-do-not-have-it-figured-out.html' title='Parents do not have it figured out.'/><author><name>Jasmine Nicolette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16467956681413735987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/TAZzK3Fs2iI/AAAAAAAAAB4/E-tCKWreDrI/S220/30048_813158965845_9427011_45294082_8028384_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220906598565217.post-4461787494069546054</id><published>2010-01-07T17:44:00.000Z</published><updated>2010-01-07T17:44:46.404Z</updated><title type='text'>A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-dream-within-a-dream/"&gt;A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Take this kiss upon the brow!&lt;br /&gt;And, in parting from you now,&lt;br /&gt;Thus much let me avow-&lt;br /&gt;You are not wrong, who deem&lt;br /&gt;That my days have been a dream;&lt;br /&gt;Yet if hope has flown away&lt;br /&gt;In a night, or in a day,&lt;br /&gt;In a vision, or in none,&lt;br /&gt;Is it therefore the less gone?&lt;br /&gt;All that we see or seem&lt;br /&gt;Is but a dream within a dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stand amid the roar&lt;br /&gt;Of a surf-tormented shore,&lt;br /&gt;And I hold within my hand&lt;br /&gt;Grains of the golden sand-&lt;br /&gt;How few! yet how they creep&lt;br /&gt;Through my fingers to the deep,&lt;br /&gt;While I weep- while I weep!&lt;br /&gt;O God! can I not grasp&lt;br /&gt;Them with a tighter clasp?&lt;br /&gt;O God! can I not save&lt;br /&gt;One from the pitiless wave?&lt;br /&gt;Is all that we see or seem&lt;br /&gt;But a dream within a dream?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5189220906598565217-4461787494069546054?l=nikkicrane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-dream-within-a-dream/' title='A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/feeds/4461787494069546054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5189220906598565217&amp;postID=4461787494069546054' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/4461787494069546054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/4461787494069546054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/2010/01/dream-within-dream-by-edgar-allan-poe.html' title='A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe'/><author><name>Jasmine Nicolette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16467956681413735987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/TAZzK3Fs2iI/AAAAAAAAAB4/E-tCKWreDrI/S220/30048_813158965845_9427011_45294082_8028384_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220906598565217.post-4538455969908612597</id><published>2010-01-06T13:35:00.004Z</published><updated>2010-01-06T13:55:55.825Z</updated><title type='text'>Nothing Gold Can Stay</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Job interview today, Knoxville on Monday, School on Wednesday, turning the big 2-2 on the 16th...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a lump in my throat, and I'm overwhelmed with fear and pessimism that I've got it all wrong. I need new music and a long drive so that I can just get out there and confront myself with all of these feelings that I nonchalantly cast aside month ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From my experience, there are two kinds of boys: boys that break your heart and boys that break your faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, I don't know what to do about the latter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These days I'm in a constant state of inadequacy...feeling like no matter where I am or who I am with, I'm lacking something to contribute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm the "Ms. Right Now" to every guy I meet, but I have this fear that I will never gain what I need to evolve into "Ms. Right."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get anxious in social situations, and every time I meet a new guy I want to run away. I'm having such a hard time breaking down these barriers that I built...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched Nights in Rodanthe with the girls last night, and I appreciate that love can exist in movies and books. I also just finished reading Love the One You're With by Emily Giffin which was a quick read and guilty pleasure, and both of these have recently sparked some sense of emotion that gives me hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423624966273031858" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/S0SWK9Wk3rI/AAAAAAAAABs/mGsKdnpPhEc/s400/mumbles.bmp" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still dream of lighthouses and sailboats,&lt;br /&gt;so maybe not all is lost.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5189220906598565217-4538455969908612597?l=nikkicrane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/feeds/4538455969908612597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5189220906598565217&amp;postID=4538455969908612597' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/4538455969908612597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/4538455969908612597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/2010/01/nothing-gold-can-stay.html' title='Nothing Gold Can Stay'/><author><name>Jasmine Nicolette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16467956681413735987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/TAZzK3Fs2iI/AAAAAAAAAB4/E-tCKWreDrI/S220/30048_813158965845_9427011_45294082_8028384_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/S0SWK9Wk3rI/AAAAAAAAABs/mGsKdnpPhEc/s72-c/mumbles.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220906598565217.post-6907645660807219149</id><published>2009-12-28T05:49:00.003Z</published><updated>2009-12-28T05:51:00.881Z</updated><title type='text'>Some days I fall apart.</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420160342757574530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 145px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/SzhHHU-5h4I/AAAAAAAAABU/8R7fUOKE90U/s400/livefree.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5189220906598565217-6907645660807219149?l=nikkicrane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/feeds/6907645660807219149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5189220906598565217&amp;postID=6907645660807219149' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/6907645660807219149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/6907645660807219149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/2009/12/some-days-i-fall-apart.html' title='Some days I fall apart.'/><author><name>Jasmine Nicolette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16467956681413735987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/TAZzK3Fs2iI/AAAAAAAAAB4/E-tCKWreDrI/S220/30048_813158965845_9427011_45294082_8028384_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/SzhHHU-5h4I/AAAAAAAAABU/8R7fUOKE90U/s72-c/livefree.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220906598565217.post-3600293953422140231</id><published>2009-07-04T13:44:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-04T14:08:16.565+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Ramblings and scribbles.</title><content type='html'>I'm a pretty nostalgic person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm halfway through the book 47 Roses which was written by an Irish author and takes place in Dublin.&lt;br /&gt;Having been there, it's such an awesome experience to just read and remember the streets&lt;br /&gt;and the pubs and to sympathize with the author over the high cost of beer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Studying abroad helped develop my passion for travel, but it also made me appreciate the things at home more. Appropriate to the date (July 4&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;), it made me realize that despite the bad &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;international&lt;/span&gt; stereotypes, I love living here. I love the luxuries that our country has to offer, and I love being driven by the one and only "American Dream."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That may sound really silly, but I remember &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jensina&lt;/span&gt; and I talking about the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;sadness&lt;/span&gt; that surrounded the people in Wales. Well, maybe &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;sadness&lt;/span&gt; isn't the right word.&lt;br /&gt;It was as if they were just more in tune and accepting of their realities. Complacent. To us, this was devastating to experience.&lt;br /&gt;Here you can strike up a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;conversation&lt;/span&gt; with a stranger and learn about their dreams and aspirations. Where they came from. Where the long to go. Who they long to be.&lt;br /&gt;In Britain the attitude was more: This is what my life is, and I accept it. Not to say that the British don't have hopes and aspirations, they are just more &lt;em&gt;realistic.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess in some aspects that's good, and it's what holds the stereotypes of the talkative American to be true. I mean, we're always talking, tweeting, or blogging about something, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I long to settle down in the States. Fall in love. Raise a family.&lt;br /&gt;All of these things one distant day in the future...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, however, I'm nostalgic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to hope on a plane with Katie and travel back in time to spend another day in &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kilvey&lt;/span&gt;, our Welsh dorm. I want to wake up and open my window and smell the ocean. It was always so bright in my room.&lt;br /&gt;The sun would rise and keep the light in all day, and at night I loved to watch the blinking of the lighthouse in the distance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But semesters abroad are a unique and meant to be kept only in their allotted time frames.&lt;br /&gt;It is a time when it's not about the classes you take or the grades you make.&lt;br /&gt;All of a sudden the world opens up, and you have this unwritten agenda. No &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;appointments&lt;/span&gt; or obligations. It's just you and what you decide to do to get you through the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was lovely and all kinds of wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was 4 months that I will never get back.&lt;br /&gt;Four months that I don't need back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it was lovely and all kinds of &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;wonderful&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5189220906598565217-3600293953422140231?l=nikkicrane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/feeds/3600293953422140231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5189220906598565217&amp;postID=3600293953422140231' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/3600293953422140231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/3600293953422140231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/2009/07/ramblings-and-scribbles.html' title='Ramblings and scribbles.'/><author><name>Jasmine Nicolette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16467956681413735987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/TAZzK3Fs2iI/AAAAAAAAAB4/E-tCKWreDrI/S220/30048_813158965845_9427011_45294082_8028384_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220906598565217.post-5481152745007872742</id><published>2009-06-25T15:11:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T15:27:08.680+01:00</updated><title type='text'>So long, Astoria.</title><content type='html'>I don't think anything can rival the feeling of sitting on the bow of a boat,&lt;br /&gt;beer in hand, good music and company,&lt;br /&gt;and a perfectly sunny, breezy day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting in the library yesterday after my class working on&lt;br /&gt;my Wall Street Journal assignments when I got a call&lt;br /&gt;saying, "Let's go out on the lake."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And let me just say that I have become disgustingly responsible.&lt;br /&gt;I go out of my way to maintain order in my apartment even when we have no visitors,&lt;br /&gt;and, despite it being summer, I still try to get my assignments done early enough&lt;br /&gt;so that I can spend my evenings doing some leisurely reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So at this moment when I &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;received&lt;/span&gt; that call, I thought:&lt;br /&gt;Fuck it. I need to be a kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I tore up my daily to-do list and went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I really sit and think about it, it's so blatantly obvious&lt;br /&gt;that I am crossing the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;threshold into &lt;em&gt;real &lt;/em&gt;adulthood without even realizing it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;I mean, I guess this is something that needs to happen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;But I have &lt;em&gt;plans.&lt;/em&gt; Wtf?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;I'm graduating in May. Moving to Maine until December.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Coming home for Christmas. And then leaving for Costa Rica for four months.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;These plans I'm pretty proud of, but &lt;em&gt;daily to-do lists?! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Who is this painfully boring person? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Everyone made fun of me for taking my planner with me out to the lake yesterday, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;but I never leave home without it. It's filled top to bottom with every due date, lunch date,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;and play date. And I can't even find the time to go home until August.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;I need more lake days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;I need more days of driving around singing to the Ataris and the Starting Line and all those other silly bands that scream "this is who you were when you allowed yourself to be carefree."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Hell, I just need to step out of my apartment more. Allow spontaneity back into my life. Let myself enjoy my freakin &lt;strong&gt;last summer.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Work and class and memos and assignments.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;I can't wait until Farmer's Market Saturday with Gabby. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5189220906598565217-5481152745007872742?l=nikkicrane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/feeds/5481152745007872742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5189220906598565217&amp;postID=5481152745007872742' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/5481152745007872742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/5481152745007872742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/2009/06/so-long-astoria.html' title='So long, Astoria.'/><author><name>Jasmine Nicolette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16467956681413735987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/TAZzK3Fs2iI/AAAAAAAAAB4/E-tCKWreDrI/S220/30048_813158965845_9427011_45294082_8028384_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220906598565217.post-7468795085517325726</id><published>2009-06-23T00:47:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T01:12:20.516+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Come with me. Together, we can take the long way home.</title><content type='html'>My life right now is similar to my drive home. I hit every yellow light but kept on cruising.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't, however, get pulled over for racing the reds; so I guess in a metaphorical sense this can be considered good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny to think how, at this moment, I am every hopeless cliche that I ever hoped to be in high school. Dream job on a yacht, good group of friends...going to class and working out during the day and sitting in coffee shops at night.&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit that these things are much more romantic on paper than in actual life.&lt;br /&gt;I feel caught somewhere between alive and pathetic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My fingers have been buring to write lately, and the fews things that I've scribbled have been horrible at best. But I got an unexpected message from an old friend asking how I was doing and if I still wrote. Alas! A reminder of who I used to be and who I used to like being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This summer has been shakey and unfamiliar, and I've found myself feeling completely disoriented. That message was exactly what I needed to remind me that I used to be someone before I was this empty shell of a person. So I took it and ran with it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My semester was all work. 9-4 classes, followed by an unpaid internship that often required unpaid overtime, and my weekends were entirely devoted to the responsibilites that a newly 21 year old shouldn't be so overly concerned with. I've become dreadfully responsible, and I almost convinced myself that I enjoyed becoming another clone in the hustle and bustle of our work driven society. The main tragedy is that I wasn't enjoying any part of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then my relationship came to a crashing (burning) end, and I began to question everything I knew about life and love and God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't say that I've found any answers at all...but then again it's only June.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This summer has been far from ideal.&lt;br /&gt;I don't go out, and I'm burdened by my adult limitations. (I have to work for my money? I can't go anywhere I want, whenever I want, with any friend of my chosing?)&lt;br /&gt;I'm too broke to go out, and even if that weren't true Knoxville is a ghost town by night and full of work driven zombies (like myself) during the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, as if God himself had given it to me, a friend recommended: Here, read this book.&lt;br /&gt;And handed me a copy of Eat Pray Love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This small work has begun the transformation of my summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To keep it terse, it was as if Elizabeth Gilbert had crept inside my head and caputured my silliest emotions and then articulated and developed them in a much wiser and more poetic way. I fell in love and will continue to reread this book throughout my life as a devotional and a spiritual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most wonderful thing I've gained from this book is a vow to myself to make this summer one of beautiful simplicity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm writing again, and I'm working my way back to the positive aspects of my younger self.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be hopelessly romantic to a fault because that means I believe in love.&lt;br /&gt;I want to go for walks and watch sunrises because that means I can make the most of my surroundings.&lt;br /&gt;And I want to sit and enjoy the newly painted walls of my apartment because that means I can enjoy simplicity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gabby and I don't have cable, but we have wonderful movies and a coffee maker.&lt;br /&gt;There is a fantastic half priced book store not 10 minutes from here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I just bought two new books to occupy my time: The Old Man and the Sea and 47 Roses&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the start of a very happy beginning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5189220906598565217-7468795085517325726?l=nikkicrane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/feeds/7468795085517325726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5189220906598565217&amp;postID=7468795085517325726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/7468795085517325726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/7468795085517325726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/2009/06/come-with-me-together-we-can-take-long.html' title='Come with me. Together, we can take the long way home.'/><author><name>Jasmine Nicolette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16467956681413735987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/TAZzK3Fs2iI/AAAAAAAAAB4/E-tCKWreDrI/S220/30048_813158965845_9427011_45294082_8028384_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220906598565217.post-1522381761295343160</id><published>2008-11-28T16:01:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-11-28T16:11:55.450Z</updated><title type='text'>Elvis isn't dead cause I heard him on the radio.</title><content type='html'>I can't believe it is almost December.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm leaving for the weekend to go to Northern England with my flatmate,&lt;br /&gt;and when I get back here I'll have to start packing my bags.&lt;br /&gt;This is proof that life really isn't going to slow down...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have done a terrible job with scribing an account of my time here,&lt;br /&gt;but I feel like the things that I value the most from this experience&lt;br /&gt;are the things that are hardest to write about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to bring back the smell of the ocean&lt;br /&gt;and the view of the raging waves around the pier from the window&lt;br /&gt;of my favorite cafe during a storm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to bring back the memories of my friends that no one will understand&lt;br /&gt;unless they spent a semester abroad with them.&lt;br /&gt;(Amy the tourist nazi, Melissa the quiet hippy, and Katie the clumsy ballerina...&lt;br /&gt;all of us little kids)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what I can take back with me is this new perspective I have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some days I used to look in the mirror and wonder where my life was going.&lt;br /&gt;I still do that, but I don't have as heavy a heart about growing up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is absolutely nothing I regret about this experience,&lt;br /&gt;and I am so thankful for the time to breath.&lt;br /&gt;To read and learn.&lt;br /&gt;To socialize and party.&lt;br /&gt;To reflect and find myself&lt;br /&gt;(as I was getting too overwhelmed with the hustle and bustle of transitioning to an adult)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so exited to feel humbly alive as I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't have very good stories to tell when I get home&lt;br /&gt;because I don't know what I can say to do this semester justice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Less than three weeks away from being home and back to the way everything was,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but everything has changed&lt;br /&gt;and I look forward to what lies ahead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For once,&lt;br /&gt;I'm not afraid of the future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5189220906598565217-1522381761295343160?l=nikkicrane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/feeds/1522381761295343160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5189220906598565217&amp;postID=1522381761295343160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/1522381761295343160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/1522381761295343160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/2008/11/elvis-isnt-dead-cause-i-heard-him-on.html' title='Elvis isn&apos;t dead cause I heard him on the radio.'/><author><name>Jasmine Nicolette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16467956681413735987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/TAZzK3Fs2iI/AAAAAAAAAB4/E-tCKWreDrI/S220/30048_813158965845_9427011_45294082_8028384_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220906598565217.post-9179398016013444992</id><published>2008-10-27T11:12:00.003Z</published><updated>2008-10-27T11:24:32.520Z</updated><title type='text'>Six too short weeks.</title><content type='html'>So I am really terrible at keeping up with this,&lt;br /&gt;but there came a point when I realized I could waste time&lt;br /&gt;writing banal entries or I could go out and make the most of Europe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hardest thing is knowing that this trip will never be captured&lt;br /&gt;in a way that does it justice,&lt;br /&gt;and it can never be reproduced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to miss the ocean, the pier, and the lighthouse&lt;br /&gt;so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now,&lt;br /&gt;I'm procrastinating a paper (nothing new)&lt;br /&gt;and getting super excited to spend Halloween in Amsterdam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then after that: Barcelona!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5189220906598565217-9179398016013444992?l=nikkicrane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/feeds/9179398016013444992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5189220906598565217&amp;postID=9179398016013444992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/9179398016013444992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/9179398016013444992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/2008/10/six-too-short-weeks.html' title='Six too short weeks.'/><author><name>Jasmine Nicolette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16467956681413735987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/TAZzK3Fs2iI/AAAAAAAAAB4/E-tCKWreDrI/S220/30048_813158965845_9427011_45294082_8028384_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220906598565217.post-3693526552602500731</id><published>2008-09-15T09:17:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T16:01:23.140+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Six pints does not equal six beers.</title><content type='html'>So Katie and I are probably the most awkward people ever,&lt;br /&gt;and we have had the most awkward couple of days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's start off with our day trip to London.&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday we planned to shop in London, find a hostel, go out, and then return to Swansea on Sunday. Well...Katie had a free train ticket so she took the train while the rest of us took the buses that were cheaper. Long story short, lost Katie, had no phones, couldn't find a hostel, etc. etc.&lt;br /&gt;The good part of that day was the fact that we found a four story Top Shop and spent way too much money on ridiculously cute clothes. Oh well...&lt;br /&gt;You win some, you lose some.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now yesterday was the truly most awkward of awkward days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone had to be out of the building from 9-7 because they were checking everything out since all the students start arriving on Friday. Angela, the American student coordinator over here, arranged an all day field trip that left that morning so that we would all have something to do, but Katie, Will, and I opted to spend the day working on our papers instead.&lt;br /&gt;So Katie and I decided to leave around twenty til nine to meet Will downstairs, and the second we get in the elevator to go down, the doors close and the power goes out. Alas! They had cut the power early so we were stuck in the elevator.&lt;br /&gt;It was probably one of the scariest things that's ever happened to me because everyone on the elevator was freaking out, and we kept pressing the alarm button for someone to come help us.&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, we hadn't moved from the 8th floor, so the two guys that were on the elevator with us were able to pry the door open after a while, and we got out.&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, the people on the other elevator were not quite as lucky and were stuck in between floors.&lt;br /&gt;It took calling the fire brigade and another hour to get the other people out.&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, Angela was livid that they cut the power early and failed to check and see that the elevators were empty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that drama, Katie, Will, and I found that the library was closed so we weren't able to do research, so we decided to go to a bookstore and see if we could at least get an idea of what to write our papers on. Another long story short: we were kicked out because you're not allowed to look through books unless you buy them, and the lady was really mad at us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day proceeded as follows:&lt;br /&gt;-Katie and I decided to shop, and Will ran away from us. Literally ran away... We turned around for 8 seconds to ask where a bathroom was, and we turned around and saw his bandanna halfway out of the bus station.&lt;br /&gt;-Katie and I were kicked out of a store in the mall for trying on hair extensions.&lt;br /&gt;-Katie and I decide to hop on a random bus for a quick 10 min. adventure which turned into an hour and a half through the ghetto and hillsides of Swansea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we finally got back we decided that we seriously needed a bottle of wine, so we went to Tesco which is the 24 hour grocery store here...except they are not 24 hours on the weekend and were closed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After feeling completely defeated and rejected by the world we retired to the campus pub&lt;br /&gt;where we proceeded to drink ciders all night which apparently is the drink of choice for old fat blokes.&lt;br /&gt;We just can't win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I write this now, it is 48 hours later because I suck at updating this, but last night we went out on the town&lt;br /&gt;and had way too much fun. Just ask me about it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day I'll learn.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5189220906598565217-3693526552602500731?l=nikkicrane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/feeds/3693526552602500731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5189220906598565217&amp;postID=3693526552602500731' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/3693526552602500731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/3693526552602500731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/2008/09/six-pints-does-not-equal-six-beers.html' title='Six pints does not equal six beers.'/><author><name>Jasmine Nicolette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16467956681413735987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/TAZzK3Fs2iI/AAAAAAAAAB4/E-tCKWreDrI/S220/30048_813158965845_9427011_45294082_8028384_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220906598565217.post-217599602156680926</id><published>2008-09-10T18:14:00.007+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T18:34:58.518+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A day in the life of a third grader.</title><content type='html'>So today was our second field trip which we prepared for by drinking lots of wine&lt;br /&gt;and going to see Batman the night before, and waking up has never felt so wonderful and refreshing.&lt;br /&gt;As I write this, I'm quite delusional and in desperate need of a nap, but, with my rigorous night&lt;br /&gt;schedule, I was unsure that I would get around to writing any other time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, after greeting the morning, Katie and I decided that this was one field trip we wanted to look cute for, so we put on decent clothes and groomed ourselves accordingly. In fact, I think it even went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;Katie: Are you going to wear your tennis shoes?&lt;br /&gt;Me: No. I'm going to wear my boots, but that is probably going to be a poor decision.&lt;br /&gt;Katie: Ok. I'll probably change my shoes then. Are you going to bring a jacket?&lt;br /&gt;Me: No, I figure you haven't worn a jacket in a while so long sleeves will probably be fine.&lt;br /&gt;Katie: Ok. I'll leave my jacket behind, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, as luck would have it, Katie and I were one of the few (...or the only ones) who missed the memo that today's field trip would take place in a dirty, muddy, wet coal mine that was super cold and would require jackets. Go figure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It ended up looking a little something like this: (And this is sadly the best picture we got...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/SMgCpxkI-2I/AAAAAAAAAA8/glONajj9auw/s1600-h/P7110073.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/SMgCpxkI-2I/AAAAAAAAAA8/glONajj9auw/s400/P7110073.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244444682775755618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tour itself was interesting, but we preferred being outside where the hills seemed to stretch on forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/SMgEH2VGRUI/AAAAAAAAABE/F5TlxX1uHl0/s1600-h/P7110078.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/SMgEH2VGRUI/AAAAAAAAABE/F5TlxX1uHl0/s400/P7110078.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244446298962543938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second half of the field trip was to a museum, but it was a real bore and nothing worth mentioning beyond the pretty gardens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than the ridiculous field trips, the our class on British politics and culture is pretty interesting, but I think we're all ready to move to the student village and start our real classes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I digress tremendously and cannot seem to put my thoughts into words,&lt;br /&gt;so a nap it is, and a better, less ridiculous post soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5189220906598565217-217599602156680926?l=nikkicrane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/feeds/217599602156680926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5189220906598565217&amp;postID=217599602156680926' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/217599602156680926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/217599602156680926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/2008/09/day-in-life-of-third-grader.html' title='A day in the life of a third grader.'/><author><name>Jasmine Nicolette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16467956681413735987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/TAZzK3Fs2iI/AAAAAAAAAB4/E-tCKWreDrI/S220/30048_813158965845_9427011_45294082_8028384_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/SMgCpxkI-2I/AAAAAAAAAA8/glONajj9auw/s72-c/P7110073.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220906598565217.post-34682505075727070</id><published>2008-09-06T10:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T10:56:39.322+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting to know you, getting to know all about you...</title><content type='html'>So yesterday we took our first field trip which was kind of put off by the weather.&lt;br /&gt;On the bus they handed us a map that looked like they were directing us around the shire,&lt;br /&gt;and we toured a place called the Mumbles which apparently is not too far down the road&lt;br /&gt;from where Catherine Zeta Jones resides.&lt;br /&gt;It was really beautiful with a pier on the ocean and that lighthouse that I can see from my window, and apparently there is a place there that has the most delicious ice cream you've ever tasted.&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, we were not allowed off the bus for that...it was for looking purposes only,&lt;br /&gt;and then we ventured to some other place where we, in the process, clipped the side of a bus&lt;br /&gt;on a too narrow road and took out our mirror. And then were rejected our destination after finding that the road was flooded. Bummer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/SMJJPylGd2I/AAAAAAAAAAc/73XRJcxVIEc/s1600-h/P7060001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/SMJJPylGd2I/AAAAAAAAAAc/73XRJcxVIEc/s400/P7060001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242833451836929890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After that we drove through a very picturesque part of the country side which ended in Oxwhich with a coffee shop on the beach next to a castle that we did not explore. However, we walked out into the ocean and hung out until the tide started to come back in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/SMJMEqF75WI/AAAAAAAAAAk/USfhtLnRBXs/s1600-h/P7060003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/SMJMEqF75WI/AAAAAAAAAAk/USfhtLnRBXs/s400/P7060003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242836559115052386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/SMJMJXq7t2I/AAAAAAAAAAs/dfEPvtxOaYI/s1600-h/P7060005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/SMJMJXq7t2I/AAAAAAAAAAs/dfEPvtxOaYI/s400/P7060005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242836640069302114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/SMJMOCqLM6I/AAAAAAAAAA0/v52WP0iCIdY/s1600-h/P7060008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/SMJMOCqLM6I/AAAAAAAAAA0/v52WP0iCIdY/s400/P7060008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242836720328324002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that night, it was Melissa's 21st birthday so a bunch of us went out to Pub in the Pond&lt;br /&gt;which is a quaint little pub on the edge of campus, and we had a few drinks while everyone else around us was obnoxiously hammered.&lt;br /&gt;Now, I only use 'obnoxiously' to mean that this kind of hammered made random boys walk into our rooms, scream, throw things, cry, and act like complete morons.&lt;br /&gt;I guess that is what finishing an entire bottle of Grey Goose before 8pm does to guy...&lt;br /&gt;Who knew?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the obnoxiously hammered are not the ones I've been hanging out with, and I'm quite pleased to say that there is a group of us (the people on my floor and a few others) who have taken an affinity to each other.&lt;br /&gt;It's worked out quite nicely because we all click in a way that makes it feel like I've known these people for years and can talk with them about anything.&lt;br /&gt;One girl, Katie, and I seem to have a lot in common, and I knew after she said, "Wait until I go all Grandma on  you guys and start going to bed at 9 o'clock," that we shared a special bond.&lt;br /&gt;I get along really well with everyone else too, and we all are similar in the fact that we like to have fun, but we're all really spiritual, too,  so we can connect on that deeper level, as well. The guys on my floor are so sexified it isn't even funny, they love to walk around in the buff with their dangles all hangin' out.  (That last sentence was from Justin who just ambushed my computer.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, last night Teddy knocked on my door with an, "I'm bored, what are you doing?" and we sat and had a nice little chat. It's nice to know that we can connect on the "I'm in a long distance relationship and it totally blows" level, but I think it will especially be nice because I think we'll do a lot of looking out for each other. It was really interesting talking to him, too, because it sounds like him and his girlfriend are in the exact same boat that Brett and I were in when he left to study abroad. It's the whole: they were kind of not exclusive but had feelings for each other but she's on the fence and he's far away and how does he convince her that he really cares for her kind of thing.&lt;br /&gt;I think he really respects and looks up to my advice, and it's awesome to have that kind of respect from the people (or at least some of them) here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a different note, as I type this Justin is in my room trying to persuade me to introduce him to my sister...but I'm trying to convince him that she probably won't want to be his friend...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Changing subjects once again, I'm going to go start this book that we were apparently supposed to read for our politics class that starts on Monday.... Needless to say I was oblivious to this memo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then off to the Mumbles!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5189220906598565217-34682505075727070?l=nikkicrane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/feeds/34682505075727070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5189220906598565217&amp;postID=34682505075727070' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/34682505075727070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/34682505075727070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/2008/09/getting-to-know-you-getting-to-know-all.html' title='Getting to know you, getting to know all about you...'/><author><name>Jasmine Nicolette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16467956681413735987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/TAZzK3Fs2iI/AAAAAAAAAB4/E-tCKWreDrI/S220/30048_813158965845_9427011_45294082_8028384_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/SMJJPylGd2I/AAAAAAAAAAc/73XRJcxVIEc/s72-c/P7060001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220906598565217.post-7768693968157053687</id><published>2008-09-05T07:11:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T07:41:32.299+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A rival for my heart.</title><content type='html'>So I am officially in Wales, and as I write this it is a little bit rainy,&lt;br /&gt;and I'm looking out my window as the tide is rolling in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sad to say good-byes, but my dad stayed home with me on his last day to eat pizza and watch Betman begins with me, and after that everything was a little easier.&lt;br /&gt;I stayed in Nashville since my family couldn't take me to the airport, and then&lt;br /&gt;Allie dropped me off in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was really lucky with the journey and managed to get here with no delays.&lt;br /&gt;My plane left from D.C. to London, and I ended up sitting next to an English professor from the Midlands, and he was extremely helpful at calming the nerves I had.&lt;br /&gt;He waited for me after customs and helped me with my bus ticket to Wales, and on the plane&lt;br /&gt;he gave me tidbits that were pretty useful and interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time I was in London, jet lag had hit me hard, and I could hardly keep my eyes open at the bus station, so after three hours of waiting, I instantly fell asleep on the bus, missing the entire country side, and I didn't wake up until we were in Cardiff...and then I just went back to sleep again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I finally arrived in Swansea and registered, and I was the second one here, so it was nice meeting people as they trickled in. There were two other guys here early in the day so we explored campus, went out to eat, and ended up watching a movie until I passed out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the travel itself isn't really the point of this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish you could be here to see the town.&lt;br /&gt;As the sun sets there's a mist that falls over the ocean and nothing can be seen except for the blinking of the light from the lighthouse in the distance.&lt;br /&gt;During the day I can watch football matches from my window because my window overlooks the sports campus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pub is hardly a 5 minute walk from campus, and there's a club that's plays really loud American music with purple lights in the Student Union that is adjacent to our building.&lt;br /&gt;We watched it for a bit from my friend Justin's window, but I was too exhausted to actually go check it out. Perhaps tonight?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But today we have breakfast at 9, and a meeting at 10, and our advisers have talked about taking all of us on some kind of exploration outing if the weather isn't too bad.&lt;br /&gt;That I'm pretty excited about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing that I'm pretty excited about too is that the majority of people here are in relationships. I was telling everyone how long distance totally blows but  is doable...being as this is the second time I'm doing this, and my friend Ted asked me if he could knock on my door on days he got discouraged since I'm a "pro". ha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, the people here seem to be really nice, and I'm already thinking about extending my plane ticket a little bit longer because I can tell that I might not want to leave as early as I had planned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the next three weeks, it's going to be lots of adventures because we're living on campus with absolutely no class or anything to do.&lt;br /&gt;A group of us have talked about travel plans, and I've already recruited some people to go to Greece and Ireland with me, so I'm pretty pumped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More posts to come as things start to get a little more exciting...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miss you all!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/SMDUH54JL5I/AAAAAAAAAAU/C634QtlQbWw/s1600-h/Swansea-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/SMDUH54JL5I/AAAAAAAAAAU/C634QtlQbWw/s400/Swansea-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242423198519734162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The view of the ocean from my window.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5189220906598565217-7768693968157053687?l=nikkicrane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/feeds/7768693968157053687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5189220906598565217&amp;postID=7768693968157053687' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/7768693968157053687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/7768693968157053687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/2008/09/rival-for-my-heart.html' title='A rival for my heart.'/><author><name>Jasmine Nicolette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16467956681413735987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/TAZzK3Fs2iI/AAAAAAAAAB4/E-tCKWreDrI/S220/30048_813158965845_9427011_45294082_8028384_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/SMDUH54JL5I/AAAAAAAAAAU/C634QtlQbWw/s72-c/Swansea-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220906598565217.post-5146643611272983274</id><published>2008-08-25T20:09:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T20:11:56.600+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Rainy days.</title><content type='html'>Our garbage man pulled up while I was leaving to take clothes to GoodWill today&lt;br /&gt;and complimented me saying that I shined brighter than the sunshine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it's raining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the kind of day I am having.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5189220906598565217-5146643611272983274?l=nikkicrane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/feeds/5146643611272983274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5189220906598565217&amp;postID=5146643611272983274' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/5146643611272983274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/5146643611272983274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/2008/08/rainy-days.html' title='Rainy days.'/><author><name>Jasmine Nicolette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16467956681413735987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/TAZzK3Fs2iI/AAAAAAAAAB4/E-tCKWreDrI/S220/30048_813158965845_9427011_45294082_8028384_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220906598565217.post-2171654001807963376</id><published>2008-08-09T17:17:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-09T17:34:30.892+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Time isn't slowing down.</title><content type='html'>I have three weeks left before I leave everything and everyone I've ever known,&lt;br /&gt;and the feeling is surreal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't know anyone.&lt;br /&gt;I won't know the places.&lt;br /&gt;I won't know the culture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that is a little exciting.&lt;br /&gt;I've been painfully drudging along on a scholarship essay that&lt;br /&gt;I probably should have written earlier in the summer,&lt;br /&gt;but the bland prompt just leaves me staring at my computer screen&lt;br /&gt;thinking..."Really?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good from that is that I ventured to the library earlier this week&lt;br /&gt;('ventured' because Franklin attractions now seem as unfamiliar as they ever have)&lt;br /&gt;and checked out a couple traveling memoirs to aid in research for my essay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a delightful surprise because they are quite mundane writings&lt;br /&gt;that capture the realness of travel...&lt;br /&gt;you know, the kind of realness that the travel channel tends to leave out.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't want the candy coated stuff...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside from my essay, my visa and money situation haunt me,&lt;br /&gt;and growing up has never seemed as real as it has now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's kind of exciting to wonder how I'm going to find a job and how I'm&lt;br /&gt;going to support myself,&lt;br /&gt;but I think it's my hopeless romantic side that tells me,&lt;br /&gt;"Struggle sucks, but your parents did it, and things will fall into place eventually."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't that the point of this awkward transition from young adult to...adult?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point I relish the little moments&lt;br /&gt;and await my biggest adventure thus far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My plane leaves in roughly three weeks, and time isn't slowing down&lt;br /&gt;for me to get everything done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope Europe is ready for me.&lt;br /&gt;(I hope I am ready for Europe...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5189220906598565217-2171654001807963376?l=nikkicrane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/feeds/2171654001807963376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5189220906598565217&amp;postID=2171654001807963376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/2171654001807963376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/2171654001807963376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/2008/08/time-isnt-slowing-down.html' title='Time isn&apos;t slowing down.'/><author><name>Jasmine Nicolette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16467956681413735987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/TAZzK3Fs2iI/AAAAAAAAAB4/E-tCKWreDrI/S220/30048_813158965845_9427011_45294082_8028384_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220906598565217.post-3366972361835213110</id><published>2008-04-02T19:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T19:50:08.542+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Re-Finding God</title><content type='html'>Life doesn't ever slow down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some days I just want to close my eyes and wish myself&lt;br /&gt;away to Neverland&lt;br /&gt;because the appeal of fantasy is that it is always&lt;br /&gt;so much better than reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've felt distanced from God for a while up until just recently&lt;br /&gt;when things seemed as if they were on the brink of crumbling down&lt;br /&gt;all at once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I thought back to parts of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Captivating &lt;/span&gt;and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wild at Heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and realized that I was needing people for the wrong reasons.&lt;br /&gt;I consider my fatal flaw to be that I have very high expectations&lt;br /&gt;for myself and for others,&lt;br /&gt;thus, allowing me to be easily disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;However, lately I've been getting disappointed in the littlest of things&lt;br /&gt;and could not for the life of me figure out why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I realized that instead of looking to myself and to God,&lt;br /&gt;I was looking to other people to validate me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was an eye opening realization;&lt;br /&gt;the kind that makes the sky seem like it's opening up to finally let&lt;br /&gt;God through after days and days of darkness and solitude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to explore this more because  I think one of the most interesting&lt;br /&gt;and important things to study in life is the self.&lt;br /&gt;However, I was cut short when I went and talked with my prayer group.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To me, it was a heartbreaking meeting, despite the inspirational  verse&lt;br /&gt;at the end, because for the first time I saw these girls open up their hearts&lt;br /&gt;to their wounds and their suffering.&lt;br /&gt;I saw that regardless of where a person is in their spiritual and life journey,&lt;br /&gt;confidence is and overbearing issue that many people struggle with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the saddest burdens to see is a person who&lt;br /&gt;devotes their lives to helping others&lt;br /&gt;but struggles internally with who they are and how the world perceives them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a strong believer that, while being selfless is a beautiful gift to learn,&lt;br /&gt;it is absolutely acceptable to be selfish in certain situations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watch these wonderful girls give and give and give,&lt;br /&gt;and never once do they demand the world to give them the respect that they deserve.&lt;br /&gt;I feel like issues like this may be minor in some situations,&lt;br /&gt;but they can ultimately lead to putting oneself in terrible situations that lead down even worse paths.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking about leading one meeting to try and resolve these issues&lt;br /&gt;because self esteem issues can be so detrimental on a person's spirit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note,&lt;br /&gt;the other night I opened up my heart and found&lt;br /&gt;that one purpose of my life is to tell the stories of others&lt;br /&gt;and help people find inspiration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope that I can find my path&lt;br /&gt;and a good medium&lt;br /&gt;to make this happen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5189220906598565217-3366972361835213110?l=nikkicrane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/feeds/3366972361835213110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5189220906598565217&amp;postID=3366972361835213110' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/3366972361835213110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/3366972361835213110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/2008/04/re-finding-god.html' title='Re-Finding God'/><author><name>Jasmine Nicolette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16467956681413735987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/TAZzK3Fs2iI/AAAAAAAAAB4/E-tCKWreDrI/S220/30048_813158965845_9427011_45294082_8028384_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220906598565217.post-5572555543663986067</id><published>2008-03-04T23:24:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-03-04T23:31:38.969Z</updated><title type='text'>You have to ride change.</title><content type='html'>I have had a random couple of day,&lt;br /&gt;and too many thoughts have been swirling through me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wish I could just turn them off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My moods have been changing with this crazy Tennessee weather&lt;br /&gt;and one moment I will feel like I have it all figured out&lt;br /&gt;while the next I feel completely lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up this morning thinking that one day&lt;br /&gt;I want a baby boy to name Carl Jaden&lt;br /&gt;which was a funny thing to feel in the morning&lt;br /&gt;because I have never really had that maternal urge&lt;br /&gt;to reproduce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a morning where I thought I might want 4 kids&lt;br /&gt;while I normally think that if I ever do reproduce&lt;br /&gt;(which is an issue constantly under debate in itself)&lt;br /&gt;I would only want 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This afternoon has been one&lt;br /&gt;completely alone&lt;br /&gt;but completely content,&lt;br /&gt;and I've enjoyed working by myself&lt;br /&gt;and not having to share anything with anyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this early evening I'm a little sad.&lt;br /&gt;Sad because I still sometimes feel that I settle for less than I should.&lt;br /&gt;I miss Lindsay, but she's in Africa.&lt;br /&gt;I miss Allie, but she's in Seattle.&lt;br /&gt;And I really just want them to come home so that I know that&lt;br /&gt;I'm not the only one in the world who enjoys those&lt;br /&gt;silly, little hopelessly romantic things&lt;br /&gt;that everyone else thinks is stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also,&lt;br /&gt;I wish boys just knew what girls wanted.&lt;br /&gt;I feel like being so demanding all the time&lt;br /&gt;almost defeats the purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it's mostly because I'm a little pmsy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also came to the realization last night&lt;br /&gt;(through one of the glassy eyed, balcony conversations with Katie that I love so much)&lt;br /&gt;that I cannot love like I wish I could.&lt;br /&gt;I'm really struggling to love the people that I know need it the most,&lt;br /&gt;and I'd rather be selfish and just cut them out of my life completely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's harsh,&lt;br /&gt;but I can't bring myself to trust the people who have lost it&lt;br /&gt;and to love the people I don't trust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's something I've been desperately praying about&lt;br /&gt;and trying to fix,&lt;br /&gt;but it's so hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would be so much easier to just make a clean break&lt;br /&gt;and run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Katie has been such a Godsend in my life, though.&lt;br /&gt;I keep deleting my words because I don't feel like&lt;br /&gt;anything I try to say will do her justice,&lt;br /&gt;but she is one of the most positive influence&lt;br /&gt;I have found in this city so far.&lt;br /&gt;(In contribution with Brett and Gabby)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that,&lt;br /&gt;this semester has been the most memorable&lt;br /&gt;and most loved thus far,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and I'm working on finding more adventures&lt;br /&gt;to make this place feel like home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm realizing that we're growing up fast,&lt;br /&gt;and Franklin may never be my home again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The realness is so scary,&lt;br /&gt;but I know there's nothing I can do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You have to ride change or change is going to ride you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So maybe I stole that from an episode of the OC,&lt;br /&gt;but it's so true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's going to be my mantra.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5189220906598565217-5572555543663986067?l=nikkicrane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/feeds/5572555543663986067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5189220906598565217&amp;postID=5572555543663986067' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/5572555543663986067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5189220906598565217/posts/default/5572555543663986067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikkicrane.blogspot.com/2008/03/you-have-to-ride-change.html' title='You have to ride change.'/><author><name>Jasmine Nicolette</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16467956681413735987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='15' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CB2K6Xw9Zr8/TAZzK3Fs2iI/AAAAAAAAAB4/E-tCKWreDrI/S220/30048_813158965845_9427011_45294082_8028384_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
