<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335</id><updated>2009-10-13T15:44:04.727-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Chronicles of the County</title><subtitle type='html'>In all things remember: one mind</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>66</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-3428149176481498729</id><published>2009-06-23T23:43:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T00:03:30.554-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Spectre of the Past</title><content type='html'>I know I've used this title for my sidebar...but it truly carries some meaning for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The past is funny. You want so vividly to remember some good thing, some redeeming factor (good or bad) that might validate the state you find yourself currently. The problem with this particular strategy is that you begin to twist the past into funny distorted versions of what actually happened. It is no doubt my past is subject to my bias. I simply refuse to admit there is no limit to my ability to twist it. I've been sifting through hundreds of pages I've saved from the last four years and I've discovered a vicious truth: the past will always change you. Every time you look back at it a little piece of you changes. With every AIM conversation I've saved, with every frantically scribbled page your perception changes from one of calm composed reflectance to truly regretful determination. The table turns now. I search desperately for a clue that I'm not the person that wrote those scribbled letters. That man who tried so hard to make the people he cared for understand that things weren't as simple as they appeared. Every solemn accusation and every word of hurt rings true as it ever did. If your not careful those words will drag you right back to the very time they were written. Those blurring moments when you walked out of an exam you know bent you over the table or even those sweaty palms that were left tightly gripping the pillow that was just thrown at you in contemptuous disgust. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite simply, if you get lost in the moments you can't do anything about then you've doomed any hope of a future where those moments aren't created. The past will change you. Every time you look back at it. Flowery moments of fleeting grace. Every blistering regret must be dealt with and sent away. Don't fear your past. It's the easiest way to drive over the same cliff you just spent the last 4 years climbing out of. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personally, I'd rather only find out what my body does when I reach the bottom once. &lt;br /&gt;So, I toss the papers that only feed the fuel of my despondence and learn from every puff of smoke as they waft away. The lessons are what you must carry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-3428149176481498729?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/3428149176481498729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=3428149176481498729' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/3428149176481498729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/3428149176481498729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2009/06/spectre-of-past.html' title='Spectre of the Past'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-7928008342976111109</id><published>2009-06-08T22:24:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T22:58:07.656-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Business Trips</title><content type='html'>Two weeks ago I encountered my first business trip. Haas sent me to Milford CT to become certified as a quality rep by Sikorsky helicopter. Rather, my official title just added "Designated Quality Representative for Sikorsky Helicopter Systems of United Technologies Corporation". What all of that foolishness actually means is I spent three days in a brand new hotel that charges 11 dollars for a bagel, sat through 24 hours of some of the most cumbersome, dry, and monstrously frustrating slides of detail after detail and thanked God for my ample imagination. I always knew the precision manufacture industry could be dry. These last few days enlightened me to a much more discouraging level. An example: Of the 150 reps in attendance, I was at least 10 years the junior of the rooms average age. I had the least complicated phone with, apparently, the least amount of desire to continually use it. Most amusingly, I was one of about ten people in the entire room I ever saw smile. In fact, my table of 8 were considered outcasts of the entire room...we laughed. During one project in which we had to decipher complicated spec drawings in groups, my table was stared at by every person in the room at least twice. A great feeling...really. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In short, I was sent to gain a title so I could be taught to do something completely unrelated. Bizarre I know. Just move on. What I gained from this experience was interestingly valuable. Firstly, I learned how you write down the instructions to assemble ultra precise flying machines. Levels upon levels of redundant instructions encumbered with often 6 separated quality checks or more come together in the thousands to build one section of a helicopter. Secondly, business trips are fun. Your shoved in a room full of people who'd rather be texting or managing and be given the privilege of watching them squirm as they try to make everyone think they already know this stuff. Positively entertaining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, I learned that I enjoy learning. I enjoy creating knowledge. Making connections between multiple pieces of information that build together to make something completely different. This business trip freed me up to do just that. I was in attendance for the simple purpose to be given a title...not to retain any significant process or requirement. From this perspective, I was able to approach the subject and presentations my own way with my own questions. I didn't feel pressured to remember everything. Don't get me wrong. I now have rather good assembly of knowledge regarding industry and Sikorsky standards. I simply achieved that end result differently. I went in looking for ways to utilize the classes in my career, at Haas and beyond. A lesson I really wish I had picked up before college. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to looking forward to more business trips full of golden bagels and unhappy manufacturers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-7928008342976111109?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/7928008342976111109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=7928008342976111109' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/7928008342976111109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/7928008342976111109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2009/06/business-trips.html' title='Business Trips'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-1637061315702889813</id><published>2009-04-14T12:31:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T12:35:40.053-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Travian Skills: Diplomacy</title><content type='html'>So, here might be an example of a skill that Travian facilitates. This is a message I sent a player dictating terms to him. I sincerely doubt I would have been able to put this together quite as effectively before I started Travian. I might be fooling myself...but who knows. Experience, training, and useful knowledge comes from the oddest of places. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;----------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;XXXXXXXX,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would be happy to offer you a personal non-aggression pact under the following terms:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&gt;&lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(1) One hour's total resource production (as allowable by travian policies) be delivered to 0.0 Nexus ( 158|92 ) Reinforcement Send resources once per day indefinitely. Significant cessation of this delivering will suspend the NAP and result in armed retaliation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(2) I shall be notified of any further village settlements or village conquering within the 21x21 of 0.0 Nexus before said action occurs. Said actions will be subject to my approval.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(3) No overt or covert action of any kind shall be allowed against myself or my declared allies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(4) Maintain the ability to reinforce any of my villages with defensive troops if so needed. Commitment need not be your total force anvil, but some resonable commitment made. If desired, this term may be morphed into a "gradual stationing" of defensive troops in my villages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any violation of the above terms without reasonable, competent and timely explanation shall be treated as an act of war.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the above terms are adhered to you are officially my protectorate and subject to the benefits therein. Please post a note in your profile " Under Protection of Reclaimer" if you agree to these terms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would not be an unreasonable hope to forsee this tentative aggreement forming into a full alliance in the weeks to come. Keep this eventuality in mind. If the terms of this agreement are fulfilled and adhered to it may be decided to remove such requirements in light of an alliance action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I welcome any further communication.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;XXXXXXXXX&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-1637061315702889813?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/1637061315702889813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=1637061315702889813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/1637061315702889813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/1637061315702889813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2009/04/travian-skills-diplomacy.html' title='Travian Skills: Diplomacy'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-6472163273279911460</id><published>2009-04-14T11:23:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T12:29:10.133-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Current Obsession: Travian</title><content type='html'>I'm prone to Obsessions. Hobbies, subjects, work...it never ends. It's one of the ways I learn. I'll pick up an interest, live and breath that interest for a while and, most often, it will eventually fall away. If it turns out to be something really worth my time and I feel I'm developing some skill or gaining some experience from this obsession I'll let it continue. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My current obsession: Travian&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Travian is best described as a real-time, large scale, text based, MMORPG (Massively Multilayer Role Playing Game). Developed originally by some Germans, this game is played on every continent. In Travian, you are a regional lord of a medieval civilization. You are in charge of managing resources, growing your cities, building and utilizing your armies. At first glance...it's quite simple to play. Most of the game is a balance of numbers. The true intricacy of Travian comes in it's necessary involvement and integration of player to player teamwork. You &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;must&lt;/span&gt; have diplomatic skills to stay alive in this game. Game servers run for a little over a year. Which means, if you play a full server, you are responsible for your cities, armies, and developing diplomatic ties that last a year. The depth that interpersonal interactions, negotiations, and extreme leadership responsibilities is almost frightening. If you take a leadership role in travian it is a full time job. You are in charge of entire alliances, alliance level diplomatic negotiations, individual players...everything. There are entire command structures in every alliance. The reality is...if your not in an alliance who is organized, well led, and your an active part of the alliance...you will get nowhere in this game. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/SeS5i3WvprI/AAAAAAAAADY/OFmxE3pmFAw/s1600-h/What+Travian+Looks+Like.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/SeS5i3WvprI/AAAAAAAAADY/OFmxE3pmFAw/s400/What+Travian+Looks+Like.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324584668084807346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it sounds silly but if you take an active part in Travian, you will develop and incredible amount of skills. Everything from resource management, military strategy, diplomatic maneuvering, negotiations, teamwork, leadership, prioritization, and humility. Believe me: if you do not engage in developing these skills you will see months of work destroyed in a week by a player with a bigger army than you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What truly intrigues me about Travian is the sheer scale of this game. Unlike World of Warcraft (another obsession that literally and regrettably took over my life for a summer) where you have a lot of places to go and a sea of people just running around completing quests and instances, Travian involves 15,000 people a server. You need to manage details from how much wheat your troops have to eat in one of your 20 cities, all the way up to whether this message your about to send to this diplomat will plunge your alliance of 400 players into a brutal war with another alliance.  The servers are always running and always live. So, you could be driving back from work without a worry in the world and a 10,000 man army could be marching towrad one of your cities. This level a stress is not for everyone. In WOW, when you log out...your player is no longer in the world. So nothing happens to your character when you not around. In Travian, your always at risk, always growing, always on your toes. My girlfriend, for example, loves the game, but could not handle having to always have the well being and status of her cities in the back of her head 24/7. Always being tied to whether she could get to a computer several times a day to keep things rolling. This is the only downside to Travian. There is no pause button. When you commit to Travian you commit to leading your cities for a year plus. In term's of games, that's huge. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've now played Travian for about a year and a half now. I've been on 4 different servers and currently manage two servers right now. At minimum, I can get away with only committing about 45 min a day to my two accounts. Tonight, I plan on sitting down with two other players and beating out a battle strategy for an offensive this week. That will take 3 or 4 hours. If I were involved in alliance leadership wholesale...I would be required to commit upwards of 4 hours a day just to keep current. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like any other game, Travian is only what you want it to be. If you let it, it will expand and fill every part of your life. (Dangerous for people wanting to mentally run away from real-life). Whoops, do I sound like I know how that works? My bad. Travian is a game and a means. A means for having fun, and developing some serious skills. For me, right now, it's a means to exact my sadistic megalomaniacal pleasure tendancies and maybe, just maybe, learn how to better organize my thoughts and interpersonal skills. I know it sounds like a stretch, but it just might work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-6472163273279911460?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/6472163273279911460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=6472163273279911460' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/6472163273279911460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/6472163273279911460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2009/04/current-obsession-travian.html' title='Current Obsession: Travian'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/SeS5i3WvprI/AAAAAAAAADY/OFmxE3pmFAw/s72-c/What+Travian+Looks+Like.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-8389437500442838698</id><published>2009-04-13T20:48:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T21:06:07.291-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Reprise: An Awkward Rebirth</title><content type='html'>I've been toying for a while whether to start this up again or not. I'm quite sure that anyone who checked the blog regularly in the past does so no longer, but it's a whimsical desire to write with the off chance it might start cogs turning in someone else's head. Maybe...just maybe a worthwhile discussion will ensue. Though mostly, this round is purely theraputic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy at your own risk.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.extension.iastate.edu/NR/rdonlyres/9F7099A3-A94D-4056-AFB9-5D3A6654A8C5/79196/CornSeedlingwithSoilCrust.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 430px; height: 285px;" src="http://www.extension.iastate.edu/NR/rdonlyres/9F7099A3-A94D-4056-AFB9-5D3A6654A8C5/79196/CornSeedlingwithSoilCrust.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time, I'm changing the rules. I'm not making apologies for anything I write here. Previously, the drama ensueing from other folks reading between the lines in places I never intented to have people do so, in addition to the,"he said! she said! you said!" phenomina is ridiculous. Grow up. If I write it here it's because I thought it important in some manner that it be included. I didn't start this blog to insult and demean people I don't like or agree with. If you want to measure your self worth by my blog...well...good luck. If your absolutely sure I blatently insulted your religon or life choices I'm sorry. I didn't intend this. The way to not pursue that gripe is a flamming email or barging into my room on a sunday afternoon guns blazing.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That said, The intended purpose here is to be a place where I can hang out some ideas, talk about some life events, current obsessions, writings, aspirations, what have you in a relaxed environment. I know the family liked to read up here in order to keep in touch. Comments, discussions, thoughts and such are welcome.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it isn't evident I've grown up a lot since I started writing here. I've sludged through many rivers full of unfortunate hazardous waste to get to where I am. I hope that development reflects in what I post here. That sounds dreary...ummm let me try again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll admit it now: I'm a self-proclaimed pragmatist, realist, cynic, pessimist, and closet masochist (see Phycial Chemistry). If I missed any "ist" descriptors here let me know. I still deceive myself everyone in a while by describing my outlook on life as optimistic. In fact, I'm more of a back-door optimist. -As soon as I figure out exactly what that means I'll let you know- My outlook has gone from depressed defeatist, in general, to a sultry mix of passive aggressive, back-woods cynisism with a hint of new day enthusiasm. Big jump if you ask me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is more to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-8389437500442838698?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/8389437500442838698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=8389437500442838698' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/8389437500442838698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/8389437500442838698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2009/04/reprise-awkward-rebirth.html' title='Reprise: An Awkward Rebirth'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-7495029196414189945</id><published>2008-01-22T22:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-28T18:38:34.627-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Striking the "Industry"</title><content type='html'>It's glorious. One of the most auspicious and bloated industries to exist actually chose to strike for money. Now, I know that the people actually suffering in this whole deal are the make-up artists and support staff and I am truly sorry for them that they have been caught between the writer's and the production studio's greed. One thing I did notice was...I haven't heard a huge outcry from the average American for the strike to end. No riots, no anything. If doctors struck...or if police officers struck, the outcry would be painful. I'm wondering if this strike could actually serve a purpose. One, help people gain a perspective of their industry. The world likes to be entertained by the tv, but they don't need you. There are better options. Second, this might be an eye opening opportunity for people to realize that tv isn't all there is to life. Why, I heard a guy on the radio say he's been interviewing people that are saying that they have been reading books more...BOOKS. Who would have thought that BOOKS could be fun too! As elated as I am that this strike is occurring, I know that no industry which pulls in the revenue tv does can never die. A sobering truth...yes. I'd be happy if just one kid, disappointed with reruns of his favorite drama or kid's show flipped to the discovery channel, saw people trying and testing theories while learning all they can about the subject...and ran outside to walmart to give it a go. Lethargic on the couch, or learning about pressure:volume work while scaring the tar out of the neighbor's dog; you decide.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-7495029196414189945?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/7495029196414189945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=7495029196414189945' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/7495029196414189945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/7495029196414189945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2008/01/strking-industry.html' title='Striking the &quot;Industry&quot;'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-6856082047029287210</id><published>2008-01-20T21:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-20T22:13:00.308-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The only candidates I like aren't going to win</title><content type='html'>I've been thinking about the effect media has on the presidential races. The media reports and places emphasis on the candidates that are mentioned most by voters. They interview and hound those who have the best numbers in their "polls". So, if a candidate is best qualified but not known...he has to break through the media block and start making himself known. This...without stupid amounts of money is impossible. But without people knowing about you...you can't raise this much money. Your party won't help you because their interested in who is most "electable". They don't want to waste their money on a candidate who doesn't look like they are going to win. They aren't concerned about the candidate's policies or character...they are solely in the game to win. As long as the people in America are voting for our party we don't need to pour money into your campaign. This brings about an interesting phenomenon of people not wanting to "waste" their vote. People begin to realize how the party works, and strangely begin to focus on who they don't want in office. I don't think its so much "my party must win" this round...but "I don't want XXX from the other party to win". So, instead of voting for the candidate in their party that they like most they vote for the candidate of their party who is most electable...most likely the candidate that their party thinks has the best chance to win...most likely the candidate the media is whooping and hollering about. Strangely enough...this candidate is the one people then talk about the most when asked by the media; so on and so forth. Combine this phenomena with the one where people are subconsciously conditioned to vote along party lines simply because THE PARTY!! THE PARTY!! has been pounded into our society for the last 200 years and you have a multi-faceted multi-layered system for locking out candidates who don't play the game of politics. Where does this leave me? I'm an independent, which means I'm not partisan. I vote for the person I think can make the calls and perform the best under the enormous stresses our president is placed under AND the one who I think can sift through thousands of pieces of information WITH their advisors and work seamlessly together with them to make the decisions necessary for our country. This last qualification, I feel, discounts Giuliani, Romney, Obama, McCain and Clinton. Who do I like? Bill Richardson and Ron Paul. Two candidates no one knows about and who will never win. What to do? I do feel the need to make my vote "count" but what is that. Is it pride saying that I'd better vote for the candidate who will win or I'll look bad?  I’m not sure. All I know is that I had to go digging on the internet to find a list of all the candidates running. Every news station…including NPR…only lists or even mentions the first two or three candidates. I’m getting kind of fed up with the way the media is driving this election. It started out promising…multiple candidates with a huge variety of views. Though, in the end, partisan politics and media knuckle-headedness have again ruined another potential opportunity for AMERICA to choose the best suited leader. While we all know democracies don’t actually work…it be nice to have a republic that felt more like a democratic republic than a aristocratic one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other random thoughts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like electric paint shakers. I can get a whole body deep massage with just one can of paint!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I heard Hillary use the line after winning Nevada, “ So, I guess that’s how the west was one,” oye…I don’t need to president that uses lines.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-6856082047029287210?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/6856082047029287210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=6856082047029287210' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/6856082047029287210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/6856082047029287210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2008/01/only-candidates-i-like-arent-going-to.html' title='The only candidates I like aren&apos;t going to win'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-148742106414129887</id><published>2008-01-07T21:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-07T22:01:23.860-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Perception of a Realization</title><content type='html'>Incredibly, I've managed to go, yet again, an unimaginable amount of time without posting. Now, while I'm quite well aware than many of you can imagine me ignoring important aspects of communication without impunity for many weeks...I continue to impress myself with my incognizant apathy on the subject. Nothing this obviously stirring yet unsettling could go unanalyzed so I've developed a theory. I like to communicate. Communication takes significant effort to perform. Adding the overbearing weight of writing on things yet not understood on subjects that can be easily linked, at least inwardly, to happenings yet still very sore and mal-aligned it can be easily determined that the writing of these, and other, things simply does not occur at all. In short...I've determined...when I don't want to do something I either get lazy or get busy somewhere else. Sounds simple right? It's paramount that you don't lose your perception of this small discovery. I'm likely to spend the better part of the month figuring out how it has, is, and will affect my everyday decisions. Determining how this realization has effected the great big huge decisions of my life will more than likely take a great deal longer, or a room full of psychologists. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've discovered that writing on the blog is really good for me. I realize most people probably don't even check this anymore, but this form of public accountability forces me to process and admit that I don't understand something...or in fact simply admitting something occurred in the first place. That sounds mundane I know. My brain is progressive and quantized. If I talk about little things freely, my defenses are more likely to drop when the need comes to talk about something more difficult or important. This occurs in jumps though...or packets. I'll make a big decision one place only to be muddled for a good while on simpler things. Then, out of the blue, discover a solution to a struggle I've been working on for a long time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to hopefully just start putting things up here about my life, frustrations, joys, interests, ponderings and such in an attempt to both remain honest to myself and others...but to also give those people who don't have time to keep reacquainting with me all the time a glimpse into the life of a friend. I know some people read what I write, get offended, and storm into my room all guns blazing. Please, this is just a way for me to express feelings, thoughts, and events. There is no need to be up in arms. If you actually knew me you'd know that storming at me with guns blazing is the fasted way to an unpleasant and most likely concussivly maligned experience. Or, rather, the fastest way to get me to walk away. I hate walking away...because it takes me a stupid long time for my to walk back, so, please, if you have something to say...do so with mutual respect and...if its something really really important that struck you deep...bring a pizza and some beers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A ton of things have changed in the last few months. Some things, I never saw coming. Some, I never dreamed would ever come true. Still others...left me sitting there going...hmmph. I feel like my perspective is changing just a tad. Its funny how such a simple realization of communicative apathy changes ones entire outlook. Bear with me as I work out all the kinks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, I hope your Christmas and New Year went well and that your outlook on the coming year is as powerful as your regret for screwing up the last one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-148742106414129887?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/148742106414129887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=148742106414129887' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/148742106414129887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/148742106414129887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2008/01/perception-of-realization.html' title='Perception of a Realization'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-651261595012076085</id><published>2007-07-25T02:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-25T02:21:13.518-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mismanaged and Missapplied</title><content type='html'>I know I haven’t posted much lately. Why? Well, I’m not even sure. I will do my best to keep putting things up. A lot of things are changing and I figure it might be nice to write about them. Every once in a while I figure one of these thoughts in my head might actually be worth something. When those thoughts come along I’ll try to write them here. If any of you have any thoughts on my musings please feel free to post. I also have a few books to review as well. Stay tuned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sitting here dumbfounded that it is the 25rd of July. Whoa. What just happened to my summer. I know people say that about summer and vacations all the time..." oo man my vacation went sooo fast"...yadda yadda yadda. I've always just taken that as someone telling me that they did nothing productive with their time and instead filled it with mindless activities that seem to make time go faster. As they open their mouth to tell me what they did they realize that their activity of choice was not terribly exciting to recount and in the end didn't produce much. So, they tell me they don't know where the time went in an effort to convey the confusion their brain is currently muddled in. In other words, the phrase "I don't know where the time went" is a cover for their brain not allowing them accept the fact that they sat in a chair staring at a computer screen playing flash games for the past week. Generally, when people respond to the question by answering with the general terminology "I did so much it's good to be back to the normal grind" or "I could use another month at least!" means their were actual beneficial activities taking place or there was actual progress in "de-stressing" activities made.&lt;br /&gt;I mention all this to draw one of several conclusions for this post. The human brain is actually a terrible thing to be inadequately engaged for long periods. The brain will, when engaged for long periods in low level activities focused on task far far below its capability not being tasked with constantly managing heavy physical stress, will in fact start ignoring itself. This was a very interesting concept I stumbled upon the other day. The brain ignoring itself. This is not to be compared to one's ignoring of personal health or activities, but rather an activity that affects only the brain. When engaged in this way, the brain decreases in its ability to perceive non standard data, loses calibration on its musculature, and simply ignores higher functions. Flash games are a perfect example of such an activity. Unless in a competitive environment with peers, your average flash game is a simple game of either clicking a button quickly and accurately enough, gold management, or simple strategy. Some are slightly challenging yet strangely compelling and always repetitive. Once the brain has achieved a conceptual understanding of the task and learned enough to be able to produce marginal improvement...it starts placing a higher percentage on standbye which gives the brain the illusion of rest. There is no stress reduction, no education, no relaxation...just mere neutrality...nay apathy. As time goes on it will become more and more difficult to engage in activities with the same percentage of brain power. When one now moves from the flash game to higher tasks, the same amount of brain power is initially available meaning the task takes longer to complete and is perceived as more difficult. Unless the flash game is used as an element in a multitasking environment or in a highly competitive situation then the above will occur. This concept can be broadly applied and provides an argument for the following: the human brain must never be allowed to become neutral for long periods of time. Stress reduction and relaxation is gained through variations of activities rather than a complete cessation of them. Complete cessation occurs in sleep. Sleep an appropriate amount and your brain will have had enough of off time for a while. This is an argument against a great many things: wasting time on flash games, watching lots of television, dreaming of long vacations or retirement with nothing to do. So, through trial and error, I have discovered yet another key into understanding my brain. I need a task at all times. Whether the task is in itself to be relaxed, to pay attention to a certain muscle group, to complete something, to become faster at something, to work around something, to remember, to listen, to watch…my brain needs a task. Why in the world it’s taken me this long to figure out I have no idea. The consequences of letting my brain slip into neutral are, in part, allowing my head to ask and dwell on questions that need not be asked and events that best be learned from and forgotten. Problem is….my brain is really really good at slipping into neutral. A great thank you to flash games and none cognitive intensive jobs for that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you wish to test my theory here is a little something to get you started:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.freewaregames.net/towerdefense3.asp"&gt;Flash Tower Defense&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Random things learned in the past few weeks:&lt;br /&gt;-My brain wants consistency and order in everything...but I know that's not good for me. When did I start being like this….no idea.&lt;br /&gt;-I've discovered that it is rather difficult to keep the worn once clothes separate from the worn   twice clothes. These piles seem to very easily merge...the worn three times pile is absolutely impossible to keep track of.&lt;br /&gt;-My middle ears hold a ridiculous amount of water. I should find a job in the desert.&lt;br /&gt;-Somehow, I’m so at piece living in a semi-beat up apt with 5 guys. I think it’s the people…and the older gentleman that lives downstairs that swears at his tv in the middle of the night. I am perfectly fine with having small amounts of personal roomage. It sort or forces me to remember the things that are important for living. I’d like a little more space to have some more people over but hey…that’s what God made the deck for. What was I thinking living in a freaking huge house last year??? Sigh, not my brightest moment. Must have been the pillars out front….such a sucker for pillars.&lt;br /&gt;-Working on getting a job as a lobster fisherman. THAT WOULD BE SO COOL. Apparently, it's a tough field to get into. I'm talking to a few gentlemen that I can find. Hopefully something fun will come of it. &lt;br /&gt;-My camera rocks. It’s the user that’s a bit challenged.&lt;br /&gt;-The world has changed to the point where being knowledgeable about a great many things is no longer economically viable. I am so screwed. (Future Post???)&lt;br /&gt;-I’m not an idiot…just terribly mismanaged and misapplied. Maybe Kennith Lay wasn’t a good choice for a life coach.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-651261595012076085?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/651261595012076085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=651261595012076085' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/651261595012076085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/651261595012076085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2007/07/mismanaged-and-missapplied.html' title='Mismanaged and Missapplied'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-4389171748672002241</id><published>2007-05-13T22:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-13T22:59:06.571-04:00</updated><title type='text'>This is where I divide</title><content type='html'>This is the part where I die. Die? Perhaps divide. Divide? The part that lived. The part that lied. Burnt by countless hours. Incessant study is poor for the soul. Didn't He say that. Maybe? He said. I think. Too many minds. Can't seem to lock on in. Running like a wildefire. Burnt. Burnt? How? No real enemy this time. Just whats gone beyond. Where? Away. From here. No control like a nervous bird in a cage. Banging its wings on the frantic wire. The rythum is there. No words though. All gone. Burnt. This is the part where I die. Die? No. Divide.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-4389171748672002241?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/4389171748672002241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=4389171748672002241' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/4389171748672002241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/4389171748672002241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2007/05/this-is-where-i-divide.html' title='This is where I divide'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-4228496874603437013</id><published>2007-05-09T18:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-09T18:44:45.380-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What a Day</title><content type='html'>Today is a good day. I haven't been able to say that in a very long time and not be lying through my teeth. Today is a good day. I woke up at my buddies place, had some dd for breakfast and then proceeded to work out for an hour and a half. This was my last PE class and suprisingly...it was amazing. I was so sore by the time I got out of there. Wayne and I did upper body today and somehow we made it through all that plus the many laps of lunges and joking Father B made us do. Went to work and actually accomplished something for a change. I then went to baja fresh for lunch and sat on the beach for a bit. I went to my LAST CLASS AT GORDON COLLEGE in which I reviewed dna sequencing data cloned from my own body...actually really cool. I will have pics and info later. I then was dragged to the beach for a game a frisbee amoung the embracing sand, cold waves, good friends, and beautiful women... oopps...was I not allowed to mention that last one. I ummm, I'm not really looking...HONEST! :) I went back to gordon, chilled in the car with some toons for a bit, went to the bev farms library and got locked out with all my stuff in. O yeah, if you ever get the impression I have any personal pride left at all...well...its a huge lie. I have absolutely none. Now, I'm sitting in my back yard, under the gentle dusk light, talking with my redleaved friend here about all the birds and how excited they must be. Yes...and tonight is sushi with great friends and a semester survived of p-chem party. This all is not to say the amount of work that remains to be done is not incredibly huge and extremely oppressing and makes me sick to think about it or that most of today could have been spent doing that work, but I had a good day. A good time to &lt;em&gt;remember&lt;/em&gt;. I've been called insane by several professors and insanely stupid by many friends for the work load I've had this past year. I tell you its nearly..okay has, driven my so far into the dirt I now have met personally several species of earthworm I never knew existed. But ya know...my God is bigger. Somehow...somewhere...something good is coming out of this year. I'm just hoping it happens before the goof offs at sallie mae realize my death was a rouse :) I know this year hasn't been all lost. I was suprised that at the senior formal last weekend I could walk around the whole room and meet and greet at least one person I knew at each table. I've developed so many amazing relationships this year I can't even express them all. I've also lost touch with a few too many people too...which makes me sad. That is what this summer is for. Sleep, friends, family, bbqs, weddings, beaches, woods, guns, bikes, gres, and hopefully hopefully hopefully some woodland training courses I would die to take. And especially friends. We'll see. The first week is going to be all sleep. Well, some rather loud people have just interrupted my peaceful introspective moment in the backyard. Was great while it lasted. The squirrel in my redleafed friend agrees...it's time for sushi. I love you all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-4228496874603437013?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/4228496874603437013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=4228496874603437013' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/4228496874603437013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/4228496874603437013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2007/05/what-day.html' title='What a Day'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-5759312187694950686</id><published>2007-05-07T09:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-07T11:12:30.127-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Long day</title><content type='html'>So, the next two weeks are going to be INSANE. I just really hope I can get it all done. I don't want another year like this one...no please. While I've learned more than I could ever tell you and grown in ways that scare even me...I'd rather not try it again. I just hope I've learned everything I was supposed to cause I'm generally terrible at makeup exams. I'm really really tired. I don't even think I can express how tired I am to you, but there are some good happenings in my life. I got to play in the sand yesterday and watch videos of my nephew and niece! After that, I hung out in the crow's nest of emery working on biochem labs with a couple gentleman interspersing work with snipits of return of the king on the projector...accompanied with pizza of course. At about 5 am I went to the house, cooked some buffalo burgers, and went back to campus to have a quick late dinner/breakfast/thirdsies whatever in the gordon tower. Went back to emery, worked for another hour or too...then collapsed in the penthouse for 20 min, in the penthouse, before waking up to go work out. Yeah...work out. Sigh. I have a super busy day today and not much time to sleep because tonight begins round two of the lab write-ups. 4 in all, an average of 15 pages each of nice and exciting technical writing, statistically relevant data sets and somewhat confident intervals. Scratch that. I'm not anywhere near a 95 % confidence limit. Last week, during my senior presentation, a professor asked me if I was confident in my data. I was quite frustrated, sleep deprived and delusional at the time and was very tempted to say...sir...I have just spent the last 45 min presenting terrible, non-significant, scientifically painful data gathered from an analytical machine that hates the mere notion of me being in the same building as it, in the nicest most professional and thorough way possible and the one thing you could possibly ask me is do I (after all this) have any confidence in these numbers? I've only told you a thousand ways to china no...could I save just a little bit of my dignity or ya gonna just drive that nail in too. O well, it's only the third time I've had to defend an experiment in which a hundred hours went into it and all I can say is here...look...I can say absolutely nothing that can be backed up by statistics in any way shape or form. I can't even tell you that my error numbers are right. Basically, I spent many hours mashing things up, dumping chemicals on them, blasting them into tubes and waiting for a bump on the screen. Standard strategy for presenting horrible data. Focus on theory and big picture. Make sure you tell them what you could have done with better data or would like to do in the event more time were available to you. Sigh. That's it. I love science.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-5759312187694950686?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/5759312187694950686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=5759312187694950686' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/5759312187694950686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/5759312187694950686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2007/05/long-day.html' title='Long day'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-7139916379772005439</id><published>2007-05-04T09:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-04T10:28:32.437-04:00</updated><title type='text'>One Art</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One Art&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The art of losing isn't hard to master;&lt;br /&gt;so many things seem filled with the intent&lt;br /&gt;to be lost that their loss is no disaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lose something every day.  Accept the fluster&lt;br /&gt;of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.&lt;br /&gt;The art of losing isn't hard to master.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then practice losing farther, losing faster:&lt;br /&gt;places, and names, and where it was you meant&lt;br /&gt;to travel.  None of these will bring disaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lost my mother's watch.  And look! my last, or&lt;br /&gt;next-to-last, of three loved houses went.&lt;br /&gt;The art of losing isn't hard to master.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lost two cities, lovely ones.  And, vaster,&lt;br /&gt;some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.&lt;br /&gt;I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture&lt;br /&gt;I love) I shan't have lied.  It's evident&lt;br /&gt;the art of losing's not too hard to master&lt;br /&gt;though it may look like (&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;WRITE IT !&lt;/span&gt;) like disaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    -- Elizabeth Bishop&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time I read this it becomes a little more intriguing and powerful. I have no idea why. I mean, I can resonate with so much of it (especially this year)...but I'm not exactly sure that's why I like it so much. I'm not sure. I think a couple of the things that attract me to this is her practical almost sarcastic approach to a difficult subject; loss. She works through the poem and begins to discover that the things she is losing do actually mean something to her...especially when she starts losing things that are a huge part of her life. She can't act or pretend it away anymore. It is so powerful she has to write it...&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;write it&lt;/span&gt;. One of the hardest things to do when thoughts hurt a lot. Taking the time to stay stationary &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;in silence&lt;/span&gt; (hardest part right there) and fight the little lingering voices of depression and doubt that incessantly rain blows upon your mind and try to write down the things that hurt, you know, the ones you don't understand is very difficult. Seeing them on paper is two fold. It gives you a certain power over them. Look!, there they are on the paper...I wrote you. I kennen "know" you. I can call you by name. On the other hand, now they are there as a reminder. What you do with that reminder is your game. The written word is powerful. The spoken word is holy. Do both. Marilyn Hacker wrote a poem in response to this one. It's called " Going Back to the River". Read it...took my brain to a crazy place.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-7139916379772005439?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/7139916379772005439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=7139916379772005439' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/7139916379772005439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/7139916379772005439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2007/05/one-art.html' title='One Art'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-7745060267135480755</id><published>2007-04-25T06:43:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-25T06:43:51.744-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Disclaimer</title><content type='html'>Disclaimer: May be too intense for some viewers. Do not stamp. Use other side for additional listings. For recreational use only. Do not disturb. All models over 18 years of age. If condition persists, consult your physician. No user-serviceable parts inside. Freshest if eaten before date on carton. Subject to change without notice. Times approximate. Simulated picture. No postage necessary if mailed in the United States. Breaking seal constitutes acceptance of agreement. For off-road use only. As seen on TV. One size fits all. Many suitcases look alike. Contains a substantial amount of non-tobacco ingredients. Colors may, in time, fade. We have sent the forms which seem to be right for you. Slippery when wet. For office use only. Not affiliated with the American Red Cross. Drop in any mailbox. Edited for television. Keep cool; process promptly. Post office will not deliver without postage. List was current at time of printing. Return to sender, no forwarding order on file, unable to forward. 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Sanitized for your protection.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-7745060267135480755?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/7745060267135480755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=7745060267135480755' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/7745060267135480755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/7745060267135480755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2007/04/disclaimer.html' title='Disclaimer'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-2888000974541397951</id><published>2007-04-23T06:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-23T07:01:52.937-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Up Before God Is</title><content type='html'>I got up at 4:30 this morning; partially because my body doesn't exactly like to sleep anymore and partially because I have this exam thing today...amongst many other things. I determined that if I sat down and tried to study right then I'd be in trouble so I went for  walk around pre-dawn beverly-farms.  I like bev farms. The only people who were up was the garage owner throwing papers around the office, the paper delivery guys, the gerneral store owner and the dunkin donuts lady. Dunkin donuts opens at 5:00. Needless to say, I was quite pleased by this. Besides the opportunity to have a long needed chat with God, this morning showed me one thing: the pre dawn day is reserved for those who have the biggest hearts, the smallest wallets, and those who truly want to know God. I finally have a glimpse as to why my father has gotten up at 3:45 every day for the past who knows how many centuries (oops years) :) The pre-dawn morning is filled with birds letting loose their cries and squirrels...none too pleased that I was awake and moving about THEIR street. But amongst all this racquet and shouting...I could hear myself and God so much clearer. As the sun came up and the coffee bubbled I knew...that maybe, just maybe through all the crap that has gone on this year and all my wonderful failures and short comings as a student and more importantly a person...I just might learn something. And maybe...just maybe God might pull me through this. I sure won't be winning any awards or getting an all expense paid vacation to grad school, but then again...that's not how my family rolls. Isn't a bad thing...just who we are. We're the people who get up in the morning and pay more attention to the birds than the news. We fight a thousand battles for every step we take.&lt;br /&gt;Everything we're given is straight from God. Not because we're that much better than everyone else, but because we need so much help...it's easier for God to give it to us himself than make us ride around the mountain ridge to get the point. I love my family. And if I keep having mornings like this...I might just understand them eventually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/RiyQ3I1pCaI/AAAAAAAAABs/66HtZKFgCEk/s1600-h/early+morning.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/RiyQ3I1pCaI/AAAAAAAAABs/66HtZKFgCEk/s400/early+morning.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056575758569900450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, this isn't a picture of beverly farms ( i wish). It's a picture of a lake in Shady Shores, Texas. I was looking around and found it...was awed...and posted it. Thought it to be semi-appropriate. Maybe you will too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-2888000974541397951?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/2888000974541397951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=2888000974541397951' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/2888000974541397951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/2888000974541397951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2007/04/up-before-god-is.html' title='Up Before God Is'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/RiyQ3I1pCaI/AAAAAAAAABs/66HtZKFgCEk/s72-c/early+morning.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-235464744368855573</id><published>2007-04-17T14:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T07:43:58.718-04:00</updated><title type='text'>From Yesterday</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He’s a stranger to some&lt;br /&gt;And a vision to none&lt;br /&gt;He can never get enough,&lt;br /&gt;Get enough of the one&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a fortune he'd quit&lt;br /&gt;But it’s hard to admit&lt;br /&gt;How it ends and begins&lt;br /&gt;On his face is a map of the world&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/RiURZh1mskI/AAAAAAAAABc/HMo57rnXZw0/s1600-h/hat-me.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/RiURZh1mskI/AAAAAAAAABc/HMo57rnXZw0/s200/hat-me.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5054465287070855746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From yesterday, it’s coming!&lt;br /&gt;From yesterday, the fear!&lt;br /&gt;From yesterday, it calls him&lt;br /&gt;But he doesn't want to read the message here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a mountain he sits, not of gold but of shit&lt;br /&gt;through the blood he can learn, see the lifes that he took&lt;br /&gt;From a council of one&lt;br /&gt;He'll decide when he's done with the innocent&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On his face is a map of the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-30 seconds to mars (From Yesterday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-235464744368855573?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/235464744368855573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=235464744368855573' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/235464744368855573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/235464744368855573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2007/04/from-yesterday.html' title='From Yesterday'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/RiURZh1mskI/AAAAAAAAABc/HMo57rnXZw0/s72-c/hat-me.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-8432842890321040011</id><published>2007-04-12T16:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-12T16:29:56.314-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My DNA</title><content type='html'>The past few weeks I have been working on cloning my cheek cell DNA using PCR. Today, we ran a few gels to determine if we were successful. We sort of were. In this gel you can see "the ladder" well used in quantifying DNA bands. The next five wells contain my DNA. I can't tell you how weird it is to look at that picture and be able to say wow....that's me. That's what makes me. I'm a little suprised that I got as much PCR product as I did. The primers we were using in PCR are linked to the X chromosome...so the female in the group (last five wells) should have 2 to 3 times as many fragments. All in all its not a great gel. Most of the important bands are very faint with poor resolution. We are going to run the gel on a machine made by Li-COR which allows for very long gels to be run with excellent detection. Kind of excited. Tomorrow I have a killer Quantum chemistry exam. If I survive that...well...maybe I'll take a nap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/Rh6WocNUuvI/AAAAAAAAABE/KWGfph7yrW4/s1600-h/Tcjssm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/Rh6WocNUuvI/AAAAAAAAABE/KWGfph7yrW4/s400/Tcjssm.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052641453467286258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-8432842890321040011?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/8432842890321040011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=8432842890321040011' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/8432842890321040011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/8432842890321040011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2007/04/my-dna.html' title='My DNA'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/Rh6WocNUuvI/AAAAAAAAABE/KWGfph7yrW4/s72-c/Tcjssm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-4254476453423080435</id><published>2007-04-10T16:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-10T16:25:16.506-04:00</updated><title type='text'>There will Come Soft Rains</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;And frogs in the pool singing at night,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;And wild plum trees in tremulous white;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;Robins will wear their feathery fire,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;And not one will know of the war, not one&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;Will care at last when it is done.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;If mankind perished utterly;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And Spring herself when she woke at dawn&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;Would scarcely know that we were gone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;Found this poem by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;Sara Teasdale&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt; today and really liked it. The focus on the little things of nature that are often missed and the emphasis that humans are not the be all and end all of things are appealing to me. So often I hear people describing an event or an aspect human or even natural activity as if they completely and fully understand and all its implications...history has told us otherwise. I like that this poem forced me to slow down and remember that with everything thing that is going on God has given me a gift, painted me an ever-shifting masterpiece and seen to it that my appreciation for it stays strong. Why do I so often lose sight of the simple things God has given?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-4254476453423080435?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/4254476453423080435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=4254476453423080435' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/4254476453423080435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/4254476453423080435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2007/04/there-will-come-soft-rains.html' title='There will Come Soft Rains'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-1843583064472141719</id><published>2007-04-04T19:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-04T19:15:00.046-04:00</updated><title type='text'>New Logo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/RhQxLHfp2kI/AAAAAAAAAA4/xwPiidPNPWQ/s1600-h/caffeine+jpeg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/RhQxLHfp2kI/AAAAAAAAAA4/xwPiidPNPWQ/s400/caffeine+jpeg.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049715149249305154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend and I worked to put this together the other day. I like it. Says volumes about what my life has been for the past 8 months.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-1843583064472141719?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/1843583064472141719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=1843583064472141719' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/1843583064472141719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/1843583064472141719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2007/04/new-logo.html' title='New Logo'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/RhQxLHfp2kI/AAAAAAAAAA4/xwPiidPNPWQ/s72-c/caffeine+jpeg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-6282087189756415427</id><published>2007-04-02T10:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-02T11:08:18.211-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Google TISP</title><content type='html'>I know it has been waaay too long since I've last posted. My life is so crazy right now there isn't much time for...anything really. I am going to start posting again hopefully. It's a great distraction from anything school related.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll start with Google's april fools joke. I thought this was amazing. Check it out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;A href="http://www.google.com/tisp/press.html"&gt;Google Press Release&lt;/A&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;A href="http://www.google.com/tisp/install.html"&gt;How TISP Works&lt;/A&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really appreciate the trouble they go through just to give people a laugh. Made my day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-6282087189756415427?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/6282087189756415427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=6282087189756415427' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/6282087189756415427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/6282087189756415427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2007/04/google-tisp.html' title='Google TISP'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-7552100739293646963</id><published>2007-02-14T00:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-14T01:10:07.615-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SNOW: WARNING...may cover roads...no...really?</title><content type='html'>We're supposed to get a caboshee of snow tonight.  Despite this news, I remain skeptical. It is most definately coming to the middle of February and we have very little snow. Pathetic. My snowshoes have been sitting idle for far too long. They need to feel the white powder beneath their wax laden straps soon. If they don't they might start walking around on there own...this would be interesting to say the least. Anyway, I'm content at the moment. Snow is coming. Got a haircut from a friend. I just had a really good game of racquet ball which made my legs just about fall off, as well as, a great dinner with close friend that put a smile on my face that I didn't see coming. Now I'm sitting at a buds place on an amazingly comfortable couch writing a lab on protein spectrophotometry. On my right, my lab partner. Further right, a brother relaxing with some WoW. To my left another bud pluckin' some soul inspiring tunes on the larrive'e. So what if I'm behind in my work, have no idea what I'm doing with my life, and can't get my life in any semblance of order. I'm with people who care. Learning and living. I may fail out of gordon...but right now the only thing that hurts is my back. Let the snow fall. Danielle is ready and waiting for a chance to fly through snow again. Been far too long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ponderism for the Day:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of us could take a lesson from the weather. It pays no attention to criticism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-size: 24pt;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-7552100739293646963?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/7552100739293646963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=7552100739293646963' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/7552100739293646963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/7552100739293646963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2007/02/snow-warningmay-cover-roadsnoreally.html' title='SNOW: WARNING...may cover roads...no...really?'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-1361522524580494787</id><published>2007-01-30T15:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-30T16:12:36.954-05:00</updated><title type='text'>∆H-T∆S=blaaaaah</title><content type='html'>The past few days I've just been trying to get on with the business of living whilst trying to process a lot of things in my head. Surprisingly, this is a difficult task. It's like taking all your regrets, hopes, wishes, dreams, fears, ambitions, and insecurities...stacking them up on a platter...then putting them in a chamber of reality gas at pressure P(i). Letting that stew for time(t) and measuring P(f). Life is over if ∆P is &gt; P(int) [pressure internal] of the substance on the platter. A final measurement of ∆G is made. Where ∆G = ∆H - T∆S. If ∆G is positive nothing gets done spontaneously. If ∆G is negative...life just might proceed in a forward general direction with a positive general demeanor. Sigh...taking over my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O, I found a this on the beach sunday. I'm not sure if its illegal to take a washed up this and put it on your back yard lawn table or not...but until I can find someone that can tell me one way or another...my backyard is under construction.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/Rb-z8suAe5I/AAAAAAAAAAY/FcRh2kdG-_E/s1600-h/ist2_1014834_road_construction_barrel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/Rb-z8suAe5I/AAAAAAAAAAY/FcRh2kdG-_E/s320/ist2_1014834_road_construction_barrel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025933564546415506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-1361522524580494787?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/1361522524580494787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=1361522524580494787' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/1361522524580494787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/1361522524580494787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2007/01/h-tsblaaaaah.html' title='∆H-T∆S=blaaaaah'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/Rb-z8suAe5I/AAAAAAAAAAY/FcRh2kdG-_E/s72-c/ist2_1014834_road_construction_barrel.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-2289898872126315775</id><published>2007-01-27T09:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-27T09:53:37.458-05:00</updated><title type='text'>HA! Victory Is Mine</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/RbtnO8uAe4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/uXyU5dzJxOU/s1600-h/victory-1280x960.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/RbtnO8uAe4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/uXyU5dzJxOU/s400/victory-1280x960.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5024723315776846722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am now a fully certified Massachusetts emt. I am so happy I could run around in circles singing the Russian national anthem...but for know I'll go play racket ball.  Today is  racket ball, work on car, quantum, p-chem, and party. Today could actually be a good day. I've forgotten what those were like. Maybe I can learn again. I might need some help...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-2289898872126315775?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/2289898872126315775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=2289898872126315775' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/2289898872126315775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/2289898872126315775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2007/01/ha-victory-is-mine.html' title='HA! Victory Is Mine'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FenVKA0F2rI/RbtnO8uAe4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/uXyU5dzJxOU/s72-c/victory-1280x960.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-116967354110851075</id><published>2007-01-24T16:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-24T18:00:07.696-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day - 24 {Battle of Redbull vs. The Iced Coffee}</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Today have been a very long day...and with a two hour lecture, two more hours of work, then as many hours as I can stay awake of homework after that...it's bound to get longer. I guess my general mood is disappointed. I've lost a lot of respect for a couple people this week which hurts in an odd way. I guess the whole adult thing is too hard for some people. On the other hand I've had several friends really encourage me, call me their brother, and tell me its okay. Those words mean a lot. On sunday, I hung out with a group of friends at a diner and...was able to just have a good time, drop the active defenses and smile. That doesn't happen too often. Then one of them accosted me later as I was walking back to my car and threw me in the cruiser. Some friend huh :) The house rent situation is a mess. The money is coming in late or not at all. I'm gonna chat with the power guys and see what they were told and if I can forestall their cutting my power. Not that I care deeply...my computer has moved from the foremost dependency of my life, the food I eat is often cold anyway, I have plenty of blankets, and rather enjoy having to stop work because I can't see anymore.  Sigh...I'm just gonna scrounge up enough money to pay off the rent till the end of the may and go sleep on a buddies couch, or in emery, or somewhere. Maybe not emery...who knows what is floating around in the air in there. Never know what chemical compounds hapless undergrads have let loose. I'm just coming to really appreciate my friends yet again, really missing seeing and hearing others, and just generally ready for someone to drop a nuke into the middle of my so called existence. I guess you could call me prepared...or something. One thing that shocked my pants off this past week is the relationship I have with many of the science professors. Save Dr. David Lee, the new physics prof., I can have rather delightful conversations with a just about all of them. I even got a few of them excited to see me. I'm not entirely sure how I managed this.  I'm most definitely not the star student of the class nor the most dynamic. I just sort of realized that many of them tend to smile and stop and talk even when their late for class. Who knows...maybe I just look funny. Off to a lecture, then maybe a quick run to the gym, some homework, then work, then more homework and then...o my favorite time may it come quickly...the sleep...she comes.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-116967354110851075?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/116967354110851075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=116967354110851075' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/116967354110851075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/116967354110851075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2007/01/day-24-battle-of-redbull-vs-iced.html' title='Day - 24 {Battle of Redbull vs. The Iced Coffee}'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29866335.post-116949995199571588</id><published>2007-01-22T15:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-22T16:09:33.310-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Divide &amp;  Conquer: EMT</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3456/3192/1600/760438/IMG_4565.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3456/3192/320/371519/IMG_4565.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just recieved authorization from the all acclaimed Massachusette Office of Emergency Medical Services to proceed to the second phase of testing. This means that I passed the first phase of testing (the practical exam I had on the 6th) and am one step closer to being certified to practice ems skills in ma. I was so excited when I got it. It actually looked like a peice of junk mail just like my instructor said it would. It reminds me of one of those credit card checks the credit companies always sends you. It took me a second when I saw it to grasp the significance. I noted that it looked like junkmail...but there was something familiar about my getting an important peice of mail that was supposed to look like junkmail. I also recognized something familiar about the company name, Promissor, I'd seen it somewhere. When my eyes dropped to the "IMPORTANT" line I almost decided it was junkmail. Every peice of junkmail I get is IMPORTANT, DATE SENSITIVE, GREAT OPPORTUNITY, YOUR LAST CHANCE. This time they weren't kidding. I just about let a whoop'n hollar out right there by the mailroom. My day got a little better in the 5 or so seconds it took for me to realize the significance of the letter. Now I just have to schedule and take the written exam. There are those times when its okay to feel like a little boy with a new bb-gun that can take down all sorts of backyard vermin...this is one of them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29866335-116949995199571588?l=chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/feeds/116949995199571588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29866335&amp;postID=116949995199571588' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/116949995199571588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29866335/posts/default/116949995199571588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofthecounty.blogspot.com/2007/01/divide-conquer-emt.html' title='Divide &amp;  Conquer: EMT'/><author><name>North Mainer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13754720496403938114</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09736703327185636941'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry></feed>