<?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-4905514910602624850</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:42:04.624-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LIFE IN THE FIRST TRY</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4905514910602624850/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Parker Kennedy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11437224909503676441</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>5</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4905514910602624850.post-2570315925410585726</id><published>2009-05-24T17:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T17:53:14.147-07:00</updated><title type='text'>holidays and weekends</title><content type='html'>Its that feeling like when you have to much &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;wasabi&lt;/span&gt;, that rush of pain that shoots up through your nose and sense, stings your eyes and you struggle to catch your breath. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;That's&lt;/span&gt; what it is like every time I look at something you touched. I seem fine, and then the rush of blood and pain and loss of breath as I run my hand along the pillow on the couch that I know you touched, I know you were right there, your breath your life, so simple, and its all gone now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Sometimes&lt;/span&gt; I feel that space, where you once were, and I want to shout out to the whole world how much I love you, how much you mean to me. I want to explain what its like to crawl into one of your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;tshirts&lt;/span&gt; and try to climb into time, where you were here, I am never going to get over this. Ever.&lt;br /&gt;No one understands me anymore. All my close friends are gone, I wonder if they were ever there in to begin with.&lt;br /&gt;Every minute without you is that pain, that sting, that sad part of the movie that you used to laugh when you saw me crying.&lt;br /&gt;I miss you so much, I want you here so bad. I cant even describe how bad its been since you left.&lt;br /&gt;I cant even throw away your tooth brush three months later. I want you to be back here, I want to tell you that there never is anything but you, and life without you sucks. That I have nothing anymore but all these memories and I can still taste you on my lips.&lt;br /&gt;I open the chap stick and its still shaped to your lips. I find your hair in my coats, Your wet suit is hanging in the bathroom and it looks just like you could get right back into it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come Back, please. Whatever I have, I would trade my life for yours. I would die, just to get you back. Just come back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4905514910602624850-2570315925410585726?l=lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com/feeds/2570315925410585726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com/2009/05/holidays-and-weekends.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4905514910602624850/posts/default/2570315925410585726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4905514910602624850/posts/default/2570315925410585726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com/2009/05/holidays-and-weekends.html' title='holidays and weekends'/><author><name>Parker Kennedy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11437224909503676441</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-4905514910602624850.post-3741231634276766824</id><published>2009-05-16T22:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T22:41:41.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Adrift At Sea At Staircase</title><content type='html'>I am not sure how I found the strength to get in the water today. Maybe its because I keep surrounding myself with people, because when I have people around I feel like I have to keep it together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up again, like every other day. In our bed, alone. For those few moments before I turn over, I pretend again, that when I do, there you will be. And then it all floods in again, every day the same thing. Every day I miss you more, rather than less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I climbed out of bed. Gathered all my things, dragged my friend off the couch and after a comedy hour of trying to get the surfboards tied on to the car, we headed up to Staircase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so beautiful and sad all at once. I could feel you everywhere, and In my mind I could see us here, the last time we came. God I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seemed to surreal, to climb on top of your surf board. Glide out through the water, that I have been so afraid of, for so long, suddenly with no fear at all. Just wanting to get your remains to your final resting place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we all sat there, me, and your closest friends, we said some things, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;didnt&lt;/span&gt; even know what to say. I am so sick of saying goodbye to you. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;dont&lt;/span&gt; want to say goodbye anymore. I just want you to be here. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;dont&lt;/span&gt; want to be a widow anymore. I just want to be Mrs. Your Wife, forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surfs up buddy, your friend said. And then they surfed, and I floated. Hugging your board, thinking of you and how beautiful you were, you are. I floated out there for over an hour. I wish I was still floating out there.&lt;br /&gt;We drove home, in silence. And although it is was so hard, I know you are at peace in your favorite spot. And I am here, crying into this computer alone. Thinking life is cruel. But I know living is a gift, and I keep trying to live and remember that you would give anything to be alive here right now, making me watch cops on a Saturday night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you monkey.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4905514910602624850-3741231634276766824?l=lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com/feeds/3741231634276766824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com/2009/05/adrift-at-sea-at-staircase.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4905514910602624850/posts/default/3741231634276766824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4905514910602624850/posts/default/3741231634276766824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com/2009/05/adrift-at-sea-at-staircase.html' title='Adrift At Sea At Staircase'/><author><name>Parker Kennedy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11437224909503676441</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-4905514910602624850.post-5951797066410267574</id><published>2009-04-20T23:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T23:58:38.228-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Get Me</title><content type='html'>What happens now, with ten years of stuff. When I cant stop sleeping in your pajamas. Now what?&lt;br /&gt;All that crap about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;soul&lt;/span&gt; mates, who thought that was true?&lt;br /&gt;I watched March of the Penguins on blue ray 8 times today.&lt;br /&gt;Our movie, you say, you said. Now its just like torture. Makes the CIA &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;tactics&lt;/span&gt; look like face painting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only you get me. Rather inconvenient that you are not here anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4905514910602624850-5951797066410267574?l=lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com/feeds/5951797066410267574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com/2009/04/get-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4905514910602624850/posts/default/5951797066410267574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4905514910602624850/posts/default/5951797066410267574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com/2009/04/get-me.html' title='Get Me'/><author><name>Parker Kennedy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11437224909503676441</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-4905514910602624850.post-6764647242850036609</id><published>2009-04-20T23:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T23:51:10.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday April 20, 2009</title><content type='html'>For the love of god. My phone hasn't rang in what, like four days now? My new favorite thing to do is to delete numbers out of the blackberry. My new favorite thing is to for people to say they will call me back in five minutes or just a sec and then I never hear from them again. I am down to 987 contacts in my blackberry, down from 2478. Its fucking liberating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I pulled his remains out of the weird logo ed bag they came in. Its like this hot pizza bag, but it has a funeral home logo on it. Its ironic, but i have like 18 sympathy cards and 7 of them are from the funeral home, so maybe I shouldn't make fun of them. I pulled the box out and climbed into the bathtub, empty of course, and fucking cried my eyes out. Its harder for the neighbors, who have never once stopped by to say hello, to hear me if I am in the bath tub.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I found the note you stuck in my laptop that said you loved me and said I had fallen asleep and this note was to make me happy. I also found our anniversary card from last year. Four years. The best four fucking years of our lives. Of my life. And now what. Here i am again, just another reject with nothing in common with any of these people I am left behind with. all the future is gone now. We were going to have kids. We were going to go to the one and only Pamella on June 26th, we were going to be just you and me.&lt;br /&gt;And now guess what. Its just me. And no one else. My step mom told me that i shouldn't call my dad anymore because my sadness upsets him.&lt;br /&gt;So now I cant even call my only parent. My friends have all but disappeared. I swear I could write a whole book on what not to do when this happens to someone you know. And you know, screw all this bullshit. All I want is you. All I think about is you. Life fucking sucks without you. for the love of god, dont lean me for support, because brushing my teeth is a fucking chore, I am not your shoulder to cry on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bike tires are flat, and i cant figure out how to use the bike pump. And I couldn't get the sparkling water down from the top shelf in the grocery store and I cried like I was going to die. I sit on the closet floor every day, and I cry into your work shirts, and I am so fucking pissed your not here in your boxer shorts and those ugly black socks up to your knees telling me how your so excited to go to work today. I drive your car every day and its like i am being slowly stabbed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so mad your not here, and I am so mad I am here, and I am so mad in general, that all that is here is this odd house, my friends and family have all disappeared, and your in some box the size of a shoe box. All I had is you. And we were so close, 24/7, so now what, who is left? At least you would have had your mom. It would have been better had it been me that was gone. I wish it was me. I wish you were here dealing with all this crappy shit. I wish you were here with all these people. Your family would be so happy, if they had you, and they could help you get over me. You would be fine without me. But I am a fucking mess without you,. This isn't how it was supposed to be. Your my whole life. Everything now is cardboard and shitty.&lt;br /&gt;Every second is spent thinking how I can get through this minute to get one step closer to where we can be together again.&lt;br /&gt;the whole world has gone on. And its just me now, alone, trying to figure out, WTF. And why the fuck.&lt;br /&gt;And all the bullshit i have to deal with every day because you told me what you wanted and expected if you were to ever leave.&lt;br /&gt;I live my life every day to try and make you proud of me, happy with the choices I am making.&lt;br /&gt;My world revolved around you. And now, well now I cant even find a light or a reason, other than you wouldn't want me to give up.&lt;br /&gt;So I am gritting my teeth, and I am dealing with it. 100% alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come back, just rewind time and come back. I have no idea how to do this without you. And even if I did, I would never want to. All that work, all that chasing you, all that effort, just for you to leave me here now. Just come back. Life sucks without you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4905514910602624850-6764647242850036609?l=lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com/feeds/6764647242850036609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com/2009/04/monday-april-20-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4905514910602624850/posts/default/6764647242850036609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4905514910602624850/posts/default/6764647242850036609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com/2009/04/monday-april-20-2009.html' title='Monday April 20, 2009'/><author><name>Parker Kennedy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11437224909503676441</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-4905514910602624850.post-3651968977546945638</id><published>2008-12-10T20:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T00:06:18.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reflection is not living in the past</title><content type='html'>Tonight I try and to remember&lt;br /&gt;how I ended up here&lt;br /&gt;try to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;remember&lt;/span&gt; how I wound up in this place so many miles from home&lt;br /&gt;Try to recall the emails, the reasons why, career became the insurance policy&lt;br /&gt;How I see it all now so clearly now, in my tiny apartment house, just me&lt;br /&gt;How we could all close our mouths, to stay wrapped in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Tiffany's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I sit reading being a grown up for dummies&lt;br /&gt;I seem to remember a time when a blackberry depended on a vine&lt;br /&gt;and the dependence on a blackberry &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;wasn't&lt;/span&gt; mine&lt;br /&gt;I can recall when it was so simple, Santa at the flagship store&lt;br /&gt;riding circular &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;escalators&lt;/span&gt;, to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;restaurant&lt;/span&gt; on our favorite floor&lt;br /&gt;Long before the deadlines, running in 4 inch through union square&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;remembering&lt;/span&gt; when i tried to impress&lt;br /&gt;all the people who are no longer there&lt;br /&gt;It &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;isn't&lt;/span&gt; about you any more, its about the budget by ten&lt;br /&gt;its not about you and me, its about revisions on life once again&lt;br /&gt;there was a time when i used to play&lt;br /&gt;once upon a time when a apple was fruit&lt;br /&gt;This &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;isn't&lt;/span&gt; my dream of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;boarding&lt;/span&gt; school l&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;uster&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the result of kicking ass and running just slightly faster&lt;br /&gt;I know why I am here&lt;br /&gt;and my desert Island is a blue tooth paradise&lt;br /&gt;wired for ultimate communication&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Ipod&lt;/span&gt; thought, no need to touch&lt;br /&gt;the digital age will be jealous this much&lt;br /&gt;I will think to speak&lt;br /&gt;I will speak when I think&lt;br /&gt;No need for message in the bottle&lt;br /&gt;I am me now in real life&lt;br /&gt;I know how I got here&lt;br /&gt;And I wouldnt trade you on this for anything ever, For you are all that ever matters. You are everything and I would leave everything, for you, without question. You have me, you always have. I would give my life, at any time, to save yours. You are the love of my life. You are my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4905514910602624850-3651968977546945638?l=lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com/feeds/3651968977546945638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com/2008/12/reflection-is-not-living-in-past.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4905514910602624850/posts/default/3651968977546945638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4905514910602624850/posts/default/3651968977546945638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifeinthefirsttry.blogspot.com/2008/12/reflection-is-not-living-in-past.html' title='Reflection is not living in the past'/><author><name>Parker Kennedy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11437224909503676441</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>
