<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9208714</id><updated>2011-04-21T21:19:17.800-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Not gonna blog (maybe a little)</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Hizzahn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05156025800808716740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>12</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9208714.post-110283009929137947</id><published>2004-12-11T22:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-12-11T22:41:39.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Random, like a fox</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;First of all, driving between Caldwell and Boise is a new experience every time. On friday it was interesting. So while both lanes of traffic are going slow (I was behind a semi in the left lane) and this dodge truck was riding my ass. I started to get annoyed so I did a breaking then speeding up thing to keep them off. That didn't really work so I pushed my brake with my left foot just enough for my break lights to turn on even though I was still on the accelerator. So I finally gave up and wiggled into the slow right lane. The truck passed me and all three of the a-holes flipped me off. I erected my pinky and wiggled it at them. They looked confused at first then speed up for 5 seconds before they were stuck behind the semi truck I was behind. They got nothing out of riding me or passing me. WTF? Absolutely any idiot can get a driver's license. The one good side of my trip was that I was drafting that semi most of the way to Boise. I could take my hands off the wheel and it would track right behind it and it was significantly quieter from the lack of wind. My gas gauge barely even noticed that drive thanks to that. Also, 50% of  people's cars that are constantly burning oil have a 2C on thier license plate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Again, not a lot of dreams coming to me. I do remember dreaming that I could do huge combinations of cartwheel, flips, and spins. I think I was doing it to impress a girl, which is what I live for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Alright, I've forgotten most of the randamness (thought I'd make it interesting) I wanted to blog about. I'm going to write an email, play on gaia, and watch tv :) Yippee.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9208714-110283009929137947?l=hizzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/110283009929137947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9208714&amp;postID=110283009929137947' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110283009929137947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110283009929137947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/2004/12/random-like-fox.html' title='Random, like a fox'/><author><name>Hizzahn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05156025800808716740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9208714.post-110240619275951595</id><published>2004-12-07T01:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-12-07T00:56:32.760-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tired eh.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;So tonight I regressed to a child for a few minutes. I was getting ready for bed and grabbing myself a glass of water from the fridge. When I had my back turned from the fridge it made a terrible buzzing, almost growling, sound. All the sudden I was 8 years old. I was terrified that something was about to attack from behind the fridge or something. I haven't felt so irrationally afraid since grade school. I'm all shaky now and could really use the comfort of someone close. I am very unsettled by this and it only took 10 seconds to run completely through my head. The dreams I've been having are rather nightmare-ish and now I'm being randomly frightened in my conscience state. Any comments on my psychological well being are welcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I go to sleep now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW, if anyone wants to buy some sweet ACI ornaments that go to a good cause check them out &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.albertson.edu/student_pages/~ahahn/ornament.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt; and send an email to me about getting one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9208714-110240619275951595?l=hizzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/110240619275951595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9208714&amp;postID=110240619275951595' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110240619275951595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110240619275951595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/2004/12/tired-eh.html' title='Tired eh.'/><author><name>Hizzahn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05156025800808716740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9208714.post-110193839129767661</id><published>2004-12-01T14:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-12-01T15:01:36.600-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shrinkage</title><content type='html'>I kicked off December with a &lt;a href="http://www.albertson.edu/student_pages/~ahahn/hott.jpg"&gt;bang&lt;/a&gt;. How perfect is it that on the eve of the first night of December that an inch of snow should fall? As a college of tradition the first night that there is snow at midnight guys strip down to their undies and run across campus to where the girls wait, in thier undies, and chase us guys back again. Good times. Some guys/girls did strip the undies as well but I wore my Scooby-Doo boxers because I am sofisticated...and it was cold (see title). I can't wait until next year. Jared has a pair of boxers that would work well. Some girl needs to get a pair of &lt;a href="http://www.chron.com/cs/CDA/ssistory.mpl/features/2919597"&gt;these&lt;/a&gt; to run in. I would really like a pair of domo pattern boxers as well &lt;img src="http://graphics.gaiaonline.com/forum/images/smiles/icon_domokun.gif"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not any memoriable dreams recently. It might be because I finally got another blanket and I actually sleep in comfort instead of cold. Speaking of, people outside throwing snowballs at each other reminds me of grade school days when you used to get in so much trouble for even picking up snow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel like blogging right now. Wish Gaiaonline was working. Sigh. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9208714-110193839129767661?l=hizzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/110193839129767661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9208714&amp;postID=110193839129767661' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110193839129767661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110193839129767661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/2004/12/shrinkage.html' title='Shrinkage'/><author><name>Hizzahn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05156025800808716740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9208714.post-110144551484680622</id><published>2004-11-25T22:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-25T22:05:14.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gobble</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Why does it make such a difference that even if I'm not here with someone, I wish so I bad we were 'together'? I didn't expect the feelings I'm having today. I can only wish I'm not the only one feeling them.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9208714-110144551484680622?l=hizzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/110144551484680622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9208714&amp;postID=110144551484680622' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110144551484680622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110144551484680622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/2004/11/gobble.html' title='Gobble'/><author><name>Hizzahn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05156025800808716740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9208714.post-110128219171426932</id><published>2004-11-24T01:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-24T00:43:11.713-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ho hum</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No comments on my posts. Getting those gives me inspiration to write since I don't get many emails either :(&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'm in the lobby of a Best Western right now. I really want to sleep so I can get to the breakfast before the good stuff is gone but my throat is not happy this week. It tickles (not in a good way) every time I breathe which makes me cough. I figure I can wear myself out enough to fall asleep eventually. Blogging really exhausts a lot of energy.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So for turkey consumption day I will be in Troutdale Oregon, which is near Portland. An aunt, uncle, and three cousins live there. They rock and use their technologically advanced smoker to make food that is delish'. I'm going to join in the most dangerous hunting season according to the discovery channel. Crab season. I didn't catch that special on TV but I will beware.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I get the feeling my parents are thinking that I wish I could stay home and hang out with friends. However, I have needed to get as far away as often as possible recently because of the stresses of school and such. Family kinda needs me right now anyway. My dad is doing tons of traveling and my sister is going through those weird teenage years.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Not much else going on. Thinking about Meg a lot. I think about the things that we do that I like to imagine no one else is silly or loving enough to do. Keep making plans, which may or may not be a good thing. Doing that gives me something to look forward to and be hopeful for but also could end up just hurting in this stage of uncertainty. I'll be fine as long as I know she is doing well :)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Alright. Done.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Oh, wait! No dreams this time around...I blame the sick, hard to sleep thing.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9208714-110128219171426932?l=hizzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/110128219171426932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9208714&amp;postID=110128219171426932' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110128219171426932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110128219171426932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/2004/11/ho-hum.html' title='Ho hum'/><author><name>Hizzahn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05156025800808716740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9208714.post-110110389976596702</id><published>2004-11-21T22:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-22T09:51:33.150-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cornucopia of topics...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Festive title today! If this were any other blog I wouldn't bother, but since people check it so often I can spread the word about the american chopper vs trading spaces poker game. Find someone who has cable immediately and tune to the travel channel!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Next random topic.... Meg and I. So a week ago Meg wanted to break up. Like every other time we (she) decided this, we started being like our usual couple selves again. I finally realized how being like that was not going to allow us to find any sort of resolve and that we would continue on this relationship yo-yo. Me being a math/CS major thought about what a graph of the ups and downs of our relationship would be and decided that the severe contrast we display would cause my arm to break off with considerable force. I don't want my arm to break off so WE decided to split up for a while. It is very hard for me considering how many fun couple things there are to do in the next month. If there is anything I've learned from Alfie it is that you should always have someone for the time between Thanksgiving and New Years. Of course that isn't why I would get back with Meg, just the superficial things on my mind. I truly love her, there's my reasoning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;If I'm babbling it is because my ol' friend Reiman called today. He crams so much crap into my head that after listening to him for a freaking hour my head feels heavier on the side I was holding my phone. I try to be nice but he doesn't call to talk...just regurgitate his life and meaningless observations. Why am I so lucky as to be his ventilation outlet? Maybe I'll ask him next time he calls when I can answer (after 9 M-F and during the weekend). T-Mobile ain't so bad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Dreamblog, right! Last night brought a lot of dreams, most of which I remembered in the morning but was without internet and motivation to just write them down. What I do remember is driving along the weekend stretch (Boise &lt;--&gt; Caldwell via I-84) when all the sudden skydivers are landing everywhere. They were of all ages. Some 10 year old landed near my car in the road so I had to get him out of the 2C kill zone. After I saved him from almost certain peril I helped him get out of his parachute then enjoyed the company of other jumpers. It made me think about how fun jumping out of airplanes is and I will probably do it again despite the person dying a week after I took the plunge.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Whew, a good half of all my readers should receive this in time to watch the Teutuls beat those designer pansies!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9208714-110110389976596702?l=hizzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/110110389976596702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9208714&amp;postID=110110389976596702' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110110389976596702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110110389976596702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/2004/11/cornucopia-of-topics.html' title='Cornucopia of topics...'/><author><name>Hizzahn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05156025800808716740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9208714.post-110098241117751431</id><published>2004-11-20T13:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-20T13:26:51.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams update</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Well weird times bring weird dreams I'd say :)&lt;br /&gt;I was playing this online role playing game thing... gaiaonline.com yesterday where you can fish. Nevermind the details. Had a dream that I was doing that for a while. That somehow segwayed into a dream about being at a club where people were masicistically giving each other rope burns. Dreams like this remind me of why I was weary to start this blog. Not a lot to either dream. I just remember the main events. I didn't do any of the rope weirdness but I do recall meeting some nice ladies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ya, you're totally freaked out right now. You're like, running for the door. It's okay, you can leave. I don't mind. (Garden State(great movie)).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9208714-110098241117751431?l=hizzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/110098241117751431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9208714&amp;postID=110098241117751431' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110098241117751431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110098241117751431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/2004/11/dreams-update.html' title='Dreams update'/><author><name>Hizzahn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05156025800808716740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9208714.post-110094772136442067</id><published>2004-11-20T03:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-20T03:48:41.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I drank...I drunk</title><content type='html'>shh... don't tell :)&lt;br /&gt;Had lots of fun! Thanks to my great friend Stef I became quite intoxicated and enjoyed a lot of activities I would not normally partake in. Turns out dancing is fun when everyone (including myself) is too tipsy to notice that I don't have a lot of moves. Wow, way too late to be posting a lot. The drinks did a number on my throut and it burns. Worth it mind you. Maybe some dreams to post tomorrows. 'Night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9208714-110094772136442067?l=hizzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/110094772136442067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9208714&amp;postID=110094772136442067' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110094772136442067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110094772136442067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/2004/11/i-dranki-drunk.html' title='I drank...I drunk'/><author><name>Hizzahn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05156025800808716740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9208714.post-110082988603604235</id><published>2004-11-18T18:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T19:04:46.036-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Loads of homework...better blog.</title><content type='html'>Random dream while taking a nap today. It was a 4 hour nap because my sinuses hit me like a ton of bricks. Really would have liked someone to be here for me... I could hardly walk the pressure was so intense. So yeah, on to the dream (not the greatest but it has a random element). So I'm in the garage with my family and we are packing for a small trip, I assume to Hells Canyon. My dad tosses me dough, cheese, and ham. Stay with me here, it doesn't make much sense. I mixed the dough and cheese, flattening it into a tortilla of sorts. Then I spread the ham over it. This seems insignificant but it was a prominent part of my dream. We did that, ate them, and it was good. We bought a whole bunch of new storage bins for the trip (I think this was randomly spawned because Max got some milk crate storage rack things yesterday). That's about it. Oh, and Lance Armstrong was chilling with us. I asked him if he would help me fund the x-mas gift I want to give Meg. He said something about giving all of his money to that lame livestrong foundation. Puh-lease.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should also mention how understanding my professors have been this week. I haven't really told them what is going on with me but I know they are there for me. Mad props teach'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9208714-110082988603604235?l=hizzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/110082988603604235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9208714&amp;postID=110082988603604235' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110082988603604235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110082988603604235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/2004/11/loads-of-homeworkbetter-blog.html' title='Loads of homework...better blog.'/><author><name>Hizzahn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05156025800808716740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9208714.post-110074335981040648</id><published>2004-11-17T18:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-17T19:02:39.810-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream blog?</title><content type='html'>I can't help myself. Meg was right, I would enjoy doing a dream blog. I was in that weird 3rd person dream state this morning. I was kind of watching myself dream. I was getting such random collages of images in my mind and I really wanted to take snapshots of my mind. I remember telling myself, "Get up! These are really cool, take to photoshop like water to a sponge!". Didn't happen. I can't remember any of the crazy collaborations in my head. Stupid head. When I have been dreaming lately I have noticed that Megan is in them with me as if we are sharing the dream. We both stand there and observe what is going on or are flying through toast hula-hoops together...like ya do. BTW Eddie Izzard was on conan last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been remembering dreams rather vividly as of late so maybe I will give this dream blog thing a shot. However, I will probably only take the time to do it when I should be doing mass amounts of homework. Yell at me every time I post...it's for the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao,&lt;br /&gt;Hahn&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9208714-110074335981040648?l=hizzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/110074335981040648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9208714&amp;postID=110074335981040648' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110074335981040648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110074335981040648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/2004/11/dream-blog.html' title='Dream blog?'/><author><name>Hizzahn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05156025800808716740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9208714.post-110071721268602862</id><published>2004-11-17T11:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-17T17:29:04.806-07:00</updated><title type='text'>contrast</title><content type='html'>I remember about two years ago I wanted to surprise Meg with an advent calendar and mistltoe. I snuck off to walmart for 15 minutes and came back empty handed. When I got back a couple people mentioned that Meg was looking for me. When I found her she was crying! I couldn't believe how much I meant to her then. I've always looked back at that moment and found strength in it. Now I feel a terrible coldness when I 'talk' to her. How can this be? I keep thinking this is some dream that will end soon but I'm feeling more pain than a pinch so what is going to wake me up?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9208714-110071721268602862?l=hizzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/110071721268602862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9208714&amp;postID=110071721268602862' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110071721268602862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110071721268602862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/2004/11/contrast.html' title='contrast'/><author><name>Hizzahn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05156025800808716740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9208714.post-110071532477501749</id><published>2004-11-17T10:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-17T11:16:11.360-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Denial approaching despair</title><content type='html'>I created this blog just so I can post comments on other people's rants. If I did start writing stuff down it would just depress people. Misery loves ...... (it's from scrubs last night)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after Megan had been warming my heart for the past week or so and I thought things were looking up, she ripped out my heart, dipped it liquid nitrogen, then hit it with a tiny flick of the finger, causing it to shatter. I've never been so devistated in my life. I worry that I've been thinking too much about how I want to get out of college asap so that Meg and I can take our relationship to the next level. I now don't remember why I'm here at all. I'm not terribly passionate about any of my classes... I'm very quickly laying the f-bomb down on my school work and my professors are soon to lay an F-- bomb on my transcript. Why doesn't that concern me? My plans for the future always involved someone besides myself. I don't see the point of a lot of things if I don't have companionship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well...too much work just so I can type a random little comment on someone's (that special someone's) blog. If you see me....kick my ass and tell me it will be okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.albertson.edu/student_pages/~ahahn/lunch.jpg" width="400"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9208714-110071532477501749?l=hizzahn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/feeds/110071532477501749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9208714&amp;postID=110071532477501749' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110071532477501749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9208714/posts/default/110071532477501749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hizzahn.blogspot.com/2004/11/denial-approaching-despair.html' title='Denial approaching despair'/><author><name>Hizzahn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05156025800808716740</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
