<?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-657187729897951781</id><updated>2011-07-08T06:35:28.925-04:00</updated><category term='recession'/><category term='triathlon'/><category term='movies'/><category term='repost'/><category term='Atlanta'/><category term='family'/><category term='gas'/><category term='scooters'/><category term='internet'/><category term='poetry'/><category term='cycling'/><category term='music'/><category term='self'/><category term='marriage'/><category term='Chattanooga'/><category term='blogging'/><category term='musings'/><category term='work'/><category term='band'/><category term='friends'/><title type='text'>Served to Rock</title><subtitle type='html'>Thoughts you may or may not know are going on my head.  Some of them escape here.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>35</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-1736341694712800706</id><published>2010-03-17T13:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-17T13:59:46.343-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Time Change Over; Rain Neverending</title><content type='html'>I felt it was appropriate to post now that Daylight Saving Time has started. &amp;nbsp;I much prefer this season. &amp;nbsp;Or rather, I would if it didn't rain on EVERY SINGLE day off I have. &amp;nbsp;My training is not going well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-1736341694712800706?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/1736341694712800706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=1736341694712800706' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/1736341694712800706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/1736341694712800706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2010/03/time-change-over-rain-neverending.html' title='Time Change Over; Rain Neverending'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-3449144456492267921</id><published>2009-11-07T19:41:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-07T19:48:21.754-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cycling'/><title type='text'>Time Change Blues</title><content type='html'>So I seriously hate the time change.  I go to work when it's dark, I watch the world get bright through the glass walls surrounding me, and I go home when it's dark.  It's not fun being reduced to two day of riding per week max.  I already didn't ride enough...thanks a lot, sunshine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-3449144456492267921?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/3449144456492267921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=3449144456492267921' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/3449144456492267921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/3449144456492267921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2009/11/time-change-blues.html' title='Time Change Blues'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-2888081581178815339</id><published>2009-10-15T11:34:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T11:34:51.528-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Oops</title><content type='html'>There I go again...meaning to write but skipping the process for several months.  Sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-2888081581178815339?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/2888081581178815339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=2888081581178815339' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/2888081581178815339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/2888081581178815339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2009/10/oops.html' title='Oops'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-1176939267870942965</id><published>2009-06-26T11:18:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T22:46:29.544-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='musings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='internet'/><title type='text'>"My very soul is on the World Wide Web!"</title><content type='html'>The title to this post is a direct quote from a college friend who used to spend three hours on a two paragraph e-mail.  After some good natured ribbing from myself and a few other friends, he's down to about 20 minutes for those e-mails now.  But he explained why it took him so long to write e-mails.  He was so concerned about the fact that, in theory, what he wrote would be a permanent piece of writing that would forever be accessible online.  He did not want even the most cursory word to diverge from his exact intention.  Most of us treat e-mails as we might a Post-It note: good for quick thoughts and designed to disappear after their usefulness is gone.  But something about the internet has turned us into "transparent" people.  I use quotes around transparent because I feel like transparency is something that can only happen when there is some sort of emotional interaction that happens between people who have some idea of each others actual identity.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-1176939267870942965?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/1176939267870942965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=1176939267870942965' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/1176939267870942965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/1176939267870942965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-very-soul-is-on-world-wide-web.html' title='&quot;My very soul is on the World Wide Web!&quot;'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-3825552688682746182</id><published>2009-06-15T00:57:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T11:50:12.676-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='self'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><title type='text'>A Followup to the Acclaimed....</title><content type='html'>Why is it that some movies just work and when the director tries to repeat that success there seems to be something missing?  My two favorite examples are Zach &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Braff's&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0333766/"&gt;Garden State&lt;/a&gt;/&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0434139/"&gt;The Last Kiss&lt;/a&gt; and Cameron &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Crowe's&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0181875/"&gt;Almost Famous&lt;/a&gt;/&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0368709/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Elizabethtown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.  I think part of it relates to the fact that both sets of movies appeal to certain age groups.  The first movie of the two pairs was the hit movie.  The second movie of the pairs tries to recreate the same feelings for an older demographic.  Would the second movies have been as big a hit if they'd been released first?  I don't know if anyone who's seen The Last Kiss before Garden State, but I do know a few who saw &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Elizabethtown&lt;/span&gt; before Almost Famous.  My guess is that the first movies were hits because they focus on the creation of an identity for the main character.  The leads  grow throughout the movies into self-awareness about their upbringings and their desires.  The second set of movies also tries to have that same self-aware realization, but when brought to an older generation seems odd, since as one grows older, identity becomes based on outside influences and relationships.  Family and work become as equally important as self.  My reaction to the leads in the first set was sympathy. In the second, disappointment that the leads were forsaking their other commitments for the pursuit of self-realization that should have happened years previous.  I don't know, I've been trying to finish this post or about a month now and might be rambling towards the end.  Tell me your thoughts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-3825552688682746182?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/3825552688682746182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=3825552688682746182' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/3825552688682746182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/3825552688682746182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-is-it-that-some-movies-just-work.html' title='A Followup to the Acclaimed....'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-5773117655821240474</id><published>2009-06-11T15:03:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T15:12:08.072-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Getting Old</title><content type='html'>My &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LMO9YrW8T08"&gt;absolute, all-time favorite song&lt;/a&gt; is being covered by a band in a "90s album."  At least the &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/fouryearstrong"&gt;first song&lt;/a&gt; they've released sounds promising.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-5773117655821240474?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/5773117655821240474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=5773117655821240474' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/5773117655821240474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/5773117655821240474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2009/06/im-getting-old.html' title='I&apos;m Getting Old'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-4175570329662169931</id><published>2009-06-04T23:59:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T00:11:46.977-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Practice Makes "Perfect"</title><content type='html'>So the old aphorism isn't always right.  I have heard a variation "perfect practice makes perfect" which certainly makes more sense, but doesn't sound nearly as good.  When I read a lot, I've found my reading get faster.  When I swim more, my lap times get shorter.  When I'm consistently on a bike, I get stronger.  After college, I've found that the same is true of my writing.  I feel like I struggle to come up with words (not creating new ones, just picking the most appropriate/applicable one...ha, case in point - this thought process) that I feel should be no problem with my B.A. in English.  Hopefully reading more will help, even if it is just Science Fiction and Fantasy novels during my diner break.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-4175570329662169931?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/4175570329662169931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=4175570329662169931' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/4175570329662169931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/4175570329662169931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2009/06/practice-makes-perfect.html' title='Practice Makes &quot;Perfect&quot;'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-7719141877061752629</id><published>2009-05-27T00:06:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T23:59:49.128-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blogging'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cycling'/><title type='text'>Blogging</title><content type='html'>Is a blog a journal?  Or more like self-published short stories?  I want to write more but often feel like there's not much to say.  I think the reason I keep this up is because of people like &lt;a href="http://www.masiguy.com/"&gt;Masiguy&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.mtbtrailreview.com/blog/"&gt;198&lt;/a&gt;, and &lt;a href="http://www.fatcyclist.com/"&gt;Fat Cyclist&lt;/a&gt;.  Or &lt;a href="http://roundwound.blogspot.com/"&gt;Zeroboy&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://madmuz.blogspot.com/"&gt;Madcapper&lt;/a&gt;.  But I think if I'm going to keep this up, I need to be a little more purposeful about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-7719141877061752629?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/7719141877061752629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=7719141877061752629' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/7719141877061752629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/7719141877061752629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2009/05/blogging.html' title='Blogging'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-6793928547556088360</id><published>2009-05-18T17:51:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T17:58:41.280-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Atlanta'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cycling'/><title type='text'>Time for a New Job</title><content type='html'>I need a new job.  I've found an industry that I can be passionate about and that has a ton of diversity within itself.  But I have a feeling that my time on the retail side of things is getting shorter every day.  Especially in the area I work, there is a an expectation on the part of our customers that our store will roll over and play dead any time they come in for a confrontation or that we ought to stock 100% of the items that they could ever possibly dream of.  Not to mention some of the expectations internally are getting ridiculous.  I feel like there's a big difference between working relaxed yet industriously and working as though my job security depends on out-performing the previous years sales numbers every single night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-6793928547556088360?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/6793928547556088360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=6793928547556088360' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/6793928547556088360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/6793928547556088360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2009/05/time-for-new-job.html' title='Time for a New Job'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-9060012049729952587</id><published>2009-05-04T00:52:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T00:54:21.310-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cycling'/><title type='text'>Wow!</title><content type='html'>Watch...be amazed.  I've worked in the cycling industry for a year now and what people can two with two wheels and two legs amazes me every day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Z19zFlPah-o&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Z19zFlPah-o&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-9060012049729952587?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/9060012049729952587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=9060012049729952587' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/9060012049729952587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/9060012049729952587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2009/05/wow.html' title='Wow!'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-5337471068057231480</id><published>2009-04-03T01:13:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T01:15:54.198-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Little Part of Me Died Today</title><content type='html'>I discovered a &lt;a href="http://www.steaknshake.com"&gt;Steak'n'Shake&lt;/a&gt; near my house that is not open 24-hours.  It made me cry a little on the inside.  After I shook my fist in rage, of course.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-5337471068057231480?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/5337471068057231480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=5337471068057231480' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/5337471068057231480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/5337471068057231480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2009/04/little-part-of-me-died-today.html' title='A Little Part of Me Died Today'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-4047835810988522145</id><published>2009-03-27T00:24:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T01:12:59.273-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='musings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chattanooga'/><title type='text'>Old Friends, New Lives</title><content type='html'>How odd is it when you go back to where you've lived for nearly eight years and you're being introduced to your old friend's new friends?  I've know these people for so much longer, but I have to feel like the outsider because I'm not around them as much any more.  Or hosting old friends.  I would imagine it's like leaving a space at the table for someone who's overseas.  You know they're not going to show up, but not leaving a space for them is like cutting them off from your life.  But when they do show up, you've not cooked enough food for the extra person, so they're still left out.  That, or everyone has to make do with less than they anticipated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love visiting Chattanooga, but it is so obvious now that I'm no longer a part of that world.  The friends I have there have their own lives and I'm not a part of it any more.  Some of them aren't even friends with each other any more, though maybe some never really were to begin with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-4047835810988522145?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/4047835810988522145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=4047835810988522145' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/4047835810988522145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/4047835810988522145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2009/03/old-friends-new-lives.html' title='Old Friends, New Lives'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-811868216532258659</id><published>2009-03-06T00:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T00:20:48.253-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='triathlon'/><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Cry</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Movies - Occasionally&lt;br /&gt;Onions - Sometimes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ironman Coverage - Always&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-811868216532258659?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/811868216532258659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=811868216532258659' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/811868216532258659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/811868216532258659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2009/03/things-that-make-me-cry.html' title='Things That Make Me Cry'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-4045522047116029473</id><published>2009-02-17T09:26:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T11:08:49.729-05:00</updated><title type='text'>So My Resolution...</title><content type='html'>Is to write more often. (I know I waited a whole month and then some to post this.)  Actually I think that it's not really a resolution.  I think it's more of a theme: More.  I always complain that I don't have enough time to do things, but I know it's because I have horrible time management skills.  I don't like resolutions because they're too easily broken and that causes discouragement.  So I'm sticking with my theme.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More writing.&lt;br /&gt;More reading.&lt;br /&gt;More exercise.&lt;br /&gt;More chores.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More.  Goes well with STRIVE, don't you think?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-4045522047116029473?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/4045522047116029473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=4045522047116029473' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/4045522047116029473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/4045522047116029473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2009/02/so-my-resolution.html' title='So My Resolution...'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-4920276191553473498</id><published>2008-12-23T21:28:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T23:39:20.154-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Atlanta'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='recession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='musings'/><title type='text'>Retail at Christmas</title><content type='html'>So I guess this could be considered a continuation of my last post.  As it gets closer to Christmas I have become more frustrated with the retail industry.  This is the first time I've been on both sides of the retail equation as both provider and consumer.  And now I'm beginning to treat anyone working retail the same way I've treated food-service workers since I started working for my college's food provider several years ago.  I have little to no sympathy for people who think they are entitled to anything and everything and perhaps way to much for the workers catering to these individuals.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My company has survived and profited for over thirty years, in part because of their 100% Customer Satisfaction Guarantee.  But I feel like people have forgotten that this guarantee did not used to be the norm with most companies, certainly not in my particular industry.  The American consumer has to come to expect that not only will retailers bend over backwards to accommodate some people's ever-changing wants (which the consumer inevitably views as "needs"), but that they should be compensated for their changing ideas, new "needs," or the inconvenience of having to return something that was either not a proper fit for its intended purpose or beyond their means at the time of purchase.  One time a man approached one of my associates 25 minutes before our store opened and asked if he could browse the store.  When told "no," that our registers were not operating yet and no one was available to supervise the sales floors, he responded with (and I'm quoting here,) "Don't you know there's a recession going on? I'll take my money and go shop at [insert competing retailer]."  I'm not kidding.  Because he was not allowed to do what he wanted (we are located in an area that has issues with loss prevention) he actually threatened the financial well-being of my company.  We called his bluff and we didn't see him again.  I'm sure he spend the next hour happily shopping at another store (though knowing the traffic in the area, I'll bet it took close to 25 minutes to get to the other retailer).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I am all for a customer being compensated if an item does not perform as intended, but I've had customers return wet, soon to be moldy and maggoty, gloves...well, not me personally, but apparently one of the previous managers allowed it to happen.  I'm serious.  It looked like someone had fallen into a swamp while wearing these gloves, put them in a plastic bag and returned them.  I about puked when I opened that bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I said before, I love my job 99.8% of the time, but I want to smack that other .2% in the head and tell them to go home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is totally a side note, but I read today that Black Friday (3/4 of the way through the fiscal year) is when retailers finally begin to turn a profit for the year.  I find it interesting that my company has been profitable from the first month and continues profiting now.  Maybe there is something beneficial in that Satisfaction Guarantee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-4920276191553473498?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/4920276191553473498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=4920276191553473498' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/4920276191553473498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/4920276191553473498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/12/retail-at-christmas.html' title='Retail at Christmas'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-2942955631564289951</id><published>2008-12-11T23:22:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T13:42:42.537-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><title type='text'>Retail</title><content type='html'>Is it the nature of the retail industry to be so completely frustrating?  I love my job, but there are days it makes me want to punch myself in the face.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-2942955631564289951?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/2942955631564289951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=2942955631564289951' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/2942955631564289951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/2942955631564289951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/12/retail.html' title='Retail'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-7096220805186987397</id><published>2008-11-25T10:29:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T11:05:17.590-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='musings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>The Passage of Time</title><content type='html'>So lately I've noticed that I no longer consider Sunday-Saturday to be the way I measure time.  Now I measure it by 3pm calls, days working, taking the trash to the curb and back to the garage, conference calls, early church services versus late services, setting up and taking down sale signage.  These fairly regular moments are interspersed with the occasional bike ride, run, and the all-to-rare day off with my wife.  It used to be that it would take ages to get to Friday from Monday.  Now I feel like it was just yesterday that I was taking the same garbage can to the end of the driveway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-7096220805186987397?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/7096220805186987397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=7096220805186987397' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/7096220805186987397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/7096220805186987397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/11/passage-of-time.html' title='The Passage of Time'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-4150747436325377205</id><published>2008-11-19T00:11:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T01:05:46.467-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='musings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scooters'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>College Life vs. Post-College Life vs. Married Life</title><content type='html'>So after reading my brother's &lt;a href="http://madmuz.blogspot.com/"&gt;blog&lt;/a&gt; I was thinking about the differences between my life in college and my life now almost 4 years removed.  He's living off campus (which I never did), own a scooter (which I've always wanted), and is getting way better grades than I ever did (eh...he can have that).  But at the same time he's beginning to really create an identity for himself.  Not in the sense that he's marketing himself, though he is trying to get an internship in Nashville, but in how he's becoming aware of how he perceives the world.  His temporary man-crush on Bono aside, I like what he's doing.  And I wish that my college experiences had been filled with sleepless nights careening through town on a scooter.  So I hope he continues and doesn't allow his workload with school take over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Side Note: I feel like my prose and poetic writings have suffered from my lack of substantial quality reading, so I've continued with Frank Herbert's &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Dune&lt;/span&gt; series that I began at the beginning of the summer and re-started &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Fahrenheit 451&lt;/span&gt;.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But back to the point of my post.  Four years ago I had the option to not go to class.  I could call in sick to work.  I could watch independent films until 6AM.  I could get food for free 12 hours out of the day.  I could decide to go camping for a weekend at 10PM on Friday night.   Now I don't have quite the same freedom.  Once I graduated I had all sorts of wonderful student loans to pay and expectations to fill.  So I got a job.  But I could still go climbing in the afternoon.  I could spend 4 hours watching a Mythbusters marathon.  I could buy clothes and movies whenever I wanted.  Then I got married.  I work.  I'm expected at home after work.  I empty trash and fill the dishwasher and empty the dryer.  I walk the dogs.  I pay utility bills.  I go to bed before midnight...most nights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not saying that I don't like being married.  I love being married.  I love the security I have now.  She is always waiting to see me when I get done with work.  She's got food cooking when I get home.  She wakes me up in the morning for my conference call on Tuesdays.  She (usually) ignores when I leave the toilet seat up.  She waits for me to crawl into bed before fully falling asleep.  But there is some small amount of freedom I gave up when I got married.  And not just with marriage.  I can't go on a week long road trip without substantial prior notice at work.  I can't decide not to go to work because I'd rather listen to a brand new CD I just got.  I can't wait until 5 minutes before I have to head to work to wake up or I go hungry that day.  I have yet to do that because I'm asleep, but I've had a few days where I almost procrastinated myself out of lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got married, my focus shifted.  It shifted off of me and squarely onto her.  So I make sandwiches at 12:15 instead of spending 10 more minutes online and buying lunch.  I pay off credit cards instead of charging brand new bikes to them.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'm just learning what it's like to focus on someone else.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-4150747436325377205?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/4150747436325377205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=4150747436325377205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/4150747436325377205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/4150747436325377205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/11/college-life-vs-post-college-life-vs.html' title='College Life vs. Post-College Life vs. Married Life'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-3610856904272766793</id><published>2008-11-12T21:21:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T21:59:20.871-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mythbusters and Mustaches</title><content type='html'>What is the reason why I like Mythbusters?  I mean, who wouldn't want to make rocket cars or test idioms or try to levitate little girls with balloons?  I think part of it is because they take everything they test to the extreme.  Or maybe it's just Jamie's mustache.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of mustaches, I'm almost four weeks into No-Shave November.  I started in mid-October and the beard is looking pretty good.  This is one of the few times I've grown the mustache with it and it's managing to connect on both sides of my mouth.  Though the right side still fills in a bit better than the left.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-3610856904272766793?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/3610856904272766793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=3610856904272766793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/3610856904272766793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/3610856904272766793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/11/mythbusters-and-mustaches.html' title='Mythbusters and Mustaches'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-3724702592568864245</id><published>2008-10-16T01:10:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T01:10:32.294-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poetry'/><title type='text'>Ten/Thirteen</title><content type='html'>10/16/08&lt;br /&gt;1:19 PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ten/Thirteen”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How odd that I’d feel loss&lt;br /&gt;At something not quite given, but now wholly claimed.&lt;br /&gt;Steal this date and time;&lt;br /&gt;You’ve stolen before.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-3724702592568864245?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/3724702592568864245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=3724702592568864245' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/3724702592568864245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/3724702592568864245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/10/tenthirteen.html' title='Ten/Thirteen'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-3254815026402244444</id><published>2008-10-08T02:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T02:21:01.709-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poetry'/><title type='text'>Losing Touch (Old Soul)</title><content type='html'>10-8-08&lt;br /&gt;1:50AM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Losing Touch (Old Soul)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have come to believe &lt;br /&gt;      that losing touch with someone &lt;br /&gt;from an older generation&lt;br /&gt;might be closer to a death sentence than&lt;br /&gt;mere forgetfulness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We’re happy children—we grow up&lt;br /&gt;     —and, not knowing any better, &lt;br /&gt;our lives begin drifting,&lt;br /&gt;apart we go,&lt;br /&gt;to be lost—vanish—until &lt;br /&gt;a chance reminder brings&lt;br /&gt;back from a vague sea of circumstances and situations&lt;br /&gt;some small fish of specificity:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A stuffed animal puppy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A mask in a hospital room—tepid, thickened water&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A gruff “Thank you”—a plaintive “Dear” from the next doorway—once strong now half-blind and weakly grasping for guidance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Braves cap, covering a newly bald head—always gracious—still hungry for carrot cake, ice cream and hot tea—encouraging, humble honesty&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could hold tight to the ever-slacking line &lt;br /&gt;and not lose this fish-specific.  &lt;br /&gt;Let me catch and clean from it every bit of &lt;br /&gt;knowledge, inspiration and grace—&lt;br /&gt;      cannibalize this old soul so that my still deft fingers&lt;br /&gt;might capitalize on my potential.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-3254815026402244444?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/3254815026402244444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=3254815026402244444' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/3254815026402244444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/3254815026402244444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/10/losing-touch-old-soul.html' title='Losing Touch (Old Soul)'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-4406726128089883075</id><published>2008-10-07T10:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T23:06:53.625-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='musings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>"It's Not Your Fault..."</title><content type='html'>How to you convince someone, who is already having a bad day, that an unfortunate circumstance isn't their fault and that you're not mad at them as a result?  Aware of what happened, I was more than happy to try to fix the problem, but she didn't want to hear anything about it, positive or negative.  Guess I'm just too new to the whole marriage thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-4406726128089883075?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/4406726128089883075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=4406726128089883075' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/4406726128089883075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/4406726128089883075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/10/its-not-your-fault.html' title='&quot;It&apos;s Not Your Fault...&quot;'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-5070557153266245867</id><published>2008-09-29T23:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T23:24:31.507-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Atlanta'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='musings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>Gasoline Despression</title><content type='html'>So with this whole gas shortage in Atlanta, I've begun to get more nervous about my situation as a newlywed.  I live over 20 miles away from where I work.  I use a gallon of gas just getting to work and another on the way back.  And the shortage has been putting me in a downer type of contemplative mood.  So when Sara and I got gas for both our cars and the sense of urgency died down I was in a much better mood.  As we drove to the grocery store after filling up the second car I managed to piece together my thoughts on why I was getting so frustrated.  This was the first time that I've really felt like I had the means (money) to do something (get gas), but the situation prevented me from attaining my goal (filling my tank).  I felt like I was letting down my family by not providing what we needed.  And that was the first time I'd though of Sara and myself as a family, which was pretty cool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-5070557153266245867?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/5070557153266245867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=5070557153266245867' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/5070557153266245867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/5070557153266245867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/09/gasoline-despression.html' title='Gasoline Despression'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-8435595506275835404</id><published>2008-09-21T23:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T23:50:50.339-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Up to Speed</title><content type='html'>So, yeah, if you read through everything posted so far, you're pretty up to speed with what I felt like sharing from my old blog.  It's amazing the amount of pointless writing that I did.  Hopefully this blog will produce a few pearls among the rest of my random writings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-8435595506275835404?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/8435595506275835404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=8435595506275835404' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/8435595506275835404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/8435595506275835404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/09/up-to-speed.html' title='Up to Speed'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-4035410085992229438</id><published>2008-09-21T23:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T23:48:30.879-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='musings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='repost'/><title type='text'>Lamentations</title><content type='html'>Original post: 5/11/07&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend told me recently to add Lamentations to my list of daily Bible readings. It's a short book, only 5 chapters long, and a relatively easy read. The name of the book gives the reader a good idea of what's in the book. The friend specifically suggested chapter 3. After reading that chapter several times and finishing the book as a whole, here are the verses that struck me the most in chapter 3:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16 He has made my teeth grind on gravel,&lt;br /&gt;and made me cower in ashes;&lt;br /&gt;17 my soul is bereft of peace;&lt;br /&gt;I have forgotten what happiness is;&lt;br /&gt;18 so I say, "My endurance has perished;&lt;br /&gt;so has my hope from the LORD."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19 Remember my affliction and my wanderings,&lt;br /&gt;the wormwood and the gall!&lt;br /&gt;20 My soul continually remembers it&lt;br /&gt;and is bowed down within me.&lt;br /&gt;21 But this I call to mind,&lt;br /&gt;and therefore I have hope:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22 The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;&lt;br /&gt;his mercies never come to an end;&lt;br /&gt;23 they are new every morning;&lt;br /&gt;great is your faithfulness.&lt;br /&gt;24 "The LORD is my portion," says my soul,&lt;br /&gt;"therefore I will hope in him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25 The LORD is good to those who wait for him,&lt;br /&gt;to the soul who seeks him.&lt;br /&gt;26 It is good that one should wait quietly&lt;br /&gt;for the salvation of the LORD.&lt;br /&gt;27 It is good for a man that he bear&lt;br /&gt;the yoke in his youth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28 Let him sit alone in silence&lt;br /&gt;when it is laid on him;&lt;br /&gt;29 let him put his mouth in the dust--&lt;br /&gt;there may yet be hope;&lt;br /&gt;30 let him give his cheek to the one who strikes,&lt;br /&gt;and let him be filled with insults.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31 For the Lord will not&lt;br /&gt;cast off forever,&lt;br /&gt;32 but, though he cause grief, he will have compassion&lt;br /&gt;according to the abundance of his steadfast love;&lt;br /&gt;33 for he does not willingly afflict&lt;br /&gt;or grieve the children of men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37 Who has spoken and it came to pass,&lt;br /&gt;unless the Lord has commanded it?&lt;br /&gt;38 Is it not from the mouth of the Most High&lt;br /&gt;that good and bad come?&lt;br /&gt;39 Why should a living man complain,&lt;br /&gt;a man, about the punishment of his sins?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40 Let us test and examine our ways,&lt;br /&gt;and return to the LORD!&lt;br /&gt;41 Let us lift up our hearts and hands&lt;br /&gt;to God in heaven:&lt;br /&gt;42 "We have transgressed and rebelled,&lt;br /&gt;and you have not forgiven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After reading these verses several times, I have felt a real kinship with the writer of Lamentations. My life lately has been the best example of how God will take away anything that I might us to try and prop myself up. He is jealous and will not stand to see us not relying on Him for strength. And just like the writer, I feel that, despite anything that may be going wrong in my life at the current moment, there is still hope that God will eventually take these situations away or fix them. But not until I have learned to rely on Him for the strength I need to carry on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My faith has never been typified by emotion, but more by logic. And by "logic," I don't necessarily mean that my faith makes sense to me at all times. In fact, it is often counter to what I want. But for some reason, Christianity is what makes sense of the world and its events to me. I've often thought that, without some sort of outside governing, I probably wouldn't still be here. I think I probably would've done one too many stupid things and paid dearly for it. I know for a fact that Christianity gives me the only sensible explanation I can think of as to why deferred desire continues to be desirable and better when that desire is finally fulfilled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I have never felt filled with the Holy Spirit. I've never had a mountain-top experience that lasted more than about an hour (which usually get followed pretty immediately by a logical buckling down and taking care of the situation). That is just not my style of faith. I don't know if I will ever be fiery hot for God. But I pray that I am consistent in my faith. I pray that the people around me would see my life and notice that my faith never swayed, never faltered, never failed. I may question events in my life and wonder why they are happening, since they seem to go against what I feel is right or just, but I think when all is settled, I will be able to see God's hand driving every influence to work out every situation to His glory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your comments are most welcome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-4035410085992229438?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/4035410085992229438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=4035410085992229438' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/4035410085992229438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/4035410085992229438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/09/lamentations.html' title='Lamentations'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-6608281070826835033</id><published>2008-09-21T23:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T23:46:09.791-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Entry "100"</title><content type='html'>Original post: 4/21/07...obviously not my 100th post here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's taken me something like 3 or 4 years to get to entry #100, but here it is.  A few of my resent musings on the passages in the Bible that I've been reading recently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For all my intellectual friends..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11:19pm Sunday, Apr 15&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need your help. I read this the other day and am having trouble figuring out what it might mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Proverbs 14:10&lt;br /&gt;"The heart knows its own bitterness, and no stranger shares its joy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like the first half is obvious; only we truly know the depths of our own feelings, especially when the feelings aren't so happy. But what about the second half? What does it mean that "no stranger shares its joy?" Does that mean that only friends can share our joy? Or maybe that, like the first half, only we can know the heights of our joy? But what does that then mean for God? Can he not know our heights and our depths?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Riches and Sorrow"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1:44pm Wednesday, Apr 11&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was reading through Proverbs earlier today, after reading my chapter in Psalms and I can across a verse: Proverbs 10:22 "The blessing of the LORD makes rich, and He adds no sorrow with it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stopped when I read this, because my first thought was, "That's not true." Now, I know I probably ought not to doubt the Bible, but that's how I felt. All my life, I've seen sorrow in the people around me...Christians and non-Christians alike. I'm sure you've seen it too. So I had to stop and think about what this verse is saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My study bible notes point out that "rich" refers to wealth and that along with the rest of the chapter (and Proverbs in general) it is saying that wealth is a result of wisdom, despite not being the goal of wisdom. And that's great and all, but that's not how I read it. The "rich" to me had more to do with quality of life, similar to the idea of "sorrow." And of course everyone would agree that the blessings of God are good for His people. But how can Solomon say that God brings no sorrow?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was struck with an idea. What causes sorrow? More often than not it's other people and the choices they (or we, for that matter) make. Our choices can, and often, cause pain to those we hold dear. But that's just it; it's our choices. God made us with a free will to choose our own actions. I think this verse could go hand in hand with 1 Cor. 10:13. God gives us a "way out." We have more than one option in a given situation. Sin or not sin; give in or walk away. It just depends on what option we choose. And unfortunately it's all to often the former and not the latter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But despite the fact that people cause sorrow, can we really say that God does not give sorrow? I think that can only be answered in eternity. How much greater is an eternity with Him than any sort of existence on Earth, as rich or poor or homeless or materialistic or anything else that we are. Even the greatest dream I have for my life pales in comparison. The problem is constantly remembering that this immediate life we're in is not what we are destined for. The way we live our lives now, with sin and sorrow and (hopefully) repentance, may not affect the ultimate outcome of our existence (so long as we're true believers), but it certainly affects us now and all those around us presently.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-6608281070826835033?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/6608281070826835033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=6608281070826835033' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/6608281070826835033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/6608281070826835033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/09/entry-100.html' title='Entry &quot;100&quot;'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-286644509371976870</id><published>2008-09-21T23:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T23:44:20.521-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='musings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='repost'/><title type='text'>Riches and Sorrow</title><content type='html'>Original post: 4/11/07So I was reading through Proverbs earlier today, after reading my chapter in Psalms and I can across a verse: Proverbs 10:22 "The blessing of the LORD makes rich, and He adds no sorrow with it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stopped when I read this, because my first thought was, "That's not true." Now, I know I probably ought not to doubt the Bible, but that's how I felt.  All my life, I've seen sorrow in the people around me...Christians and non-Christians alike. I'm sure you've seen it too.  So I had to stop and think about what this verse is saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My study bible notes point out that "rich" refers to wealth and that along with the rest of the chapter (and Proverbs in general) it is saying that wealth is a result of wisdom, despite not being the goal of wisdom. And that's great and all, but that's not how I read it.  The "rich" to me had more to do with quality of life, similar to the idea of "sorrow." And of course everyone would agree that the blessings of God are good for His people.  But how can Solomon say that God brings no sorrow?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was struck with an idea.  What causes sorrow?  More often than not it's other people and the choices they (or we, for that matter) make.  Our choices can, and often, cause pain to those we hold dear.  But that's just it; it's our choices.  God made us with a free will to choose our own actions.  I think this verse could go hand in hand with 1Cor. 10:13.  God gives us a "way out."  We have more than one option in a given situation. Sin or not sin; give in or walk away.   It just depends on what option we choose. And unfortunately it's all to often the former and not the latter.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But despite the fact that people cause sorrow, can we really say that God does not give sorrow?  I think that can only be answered in eternity.  How much greater is an eternity with Him than any sort of existence on Earth, as rich or poor or homeless or materialistic or anything else that we are.  Even the greatest dream I have for my life pales in comparison.  The problem is constantly remembering that this immediate life we're in is not what we are destined for.  The way we live our lives now, with sin and sorrow and (hopefully) repentance, may not affect the ultimate outcome of our existence (so long as we're true believers), but it certainly affects us now and all those around us presently.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-286644509371976870?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/286644509371976870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=286644509371976870' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/286644509371976870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/286644509371976870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/09/riches-and-sorrow.html' title='Riches and Sorrow'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-281831528895976891</id><published>2008-09-21T23:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T23:43:22.492-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='musings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='repost'/><title type='text'>More Lewis Musings</title><content type='html'>Original post: 2/24/07&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But pain insists upon being attended to, God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world." - The Problem of Pain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No doubt Pain as God's megaphone is a terrible instrument; it may lead to final and unrepented rebellion. But it gives the only opportunity the bad man can have for amendment. It removes the veil; it plants the flag of truth within the fortress of a rebel soul. If the first and lowest operation of pain shatters the illusion that all is well, the second shatters the illusion that what we have, whether good or bad in itself, is our own and enough for us." - The Problem of Pain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my earlier post I quoted C. S. Lewis and a friend gave the quote in context:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket-safe, dark, motionless, airless-it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable." - The Four Loves&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I began to wonder why this is-why loving something is to be vulnerable-and think I may have stumbled onto part of the answer: forgiveness.  There is a disparity between our desires to love something and to keep ourselves guarded from pain.  We want to have someone to give ourselves to; to lend us support and comfort.  At the same time, we want to guard from allowing ourselves to place our trust in another, often because of past experiences in which that trust is broken.  We are not stupid creatures, so after enough broken trust, we begin to create barriers to shield ourselves from this pain.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However love requires forgiveness.  Forgiveness is a repeated, conscious decision to accept vulnerability.  It is an admission of past pain and recognition of the chance of future pain.  But it is also an admission that there is a chance for greater peace and joy to be experienced which would outweigh any chance of pain, not matter how great the pain may be.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As fallen humans, we are subject to constant pain through the failure of others, even though the pain and the failure might be unintentional.  We break promises and undermine expectations daily.  It is only in the Lord that we find not only the potential to maintain these expectations, but a promise never broken.  Only God can follow through completely on what He promises.  And, hopefully, His grace and benevolence provide us with an example of the constant forgiveness we are to emulate, despite our fallen nature.  Only by following his example are we able to overcome past pain and find the strength to endure any future pain; knowing that we ourselves have been forgiven of the greatest pain ever caused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I know is that I'm not a fan of a coffined heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Psalm 117&lt;br /&gt;1. Praise the LORD, all you nations; extol him, all you peoples.&lt;br /&gt;2. For great is his love toward us, and the faithfulness of the LORD endures forever. Praise the LORD.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-281831528895976891?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/281831528895976891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=281831528895976891' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/281831528895976891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/281831528895976891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/09/more-lewis-musings.html' title='More Lewis Musings'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-3542073492199316625</id><published>2008-09-21T23:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T23:37:55.050-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='musings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='repost'/><title type='text'>C.S. Lewis and my Reflections</title><content type='html'>Original post: 2/21/07&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So lately I've had a C.S. Lewis Quote stuck in my head and went searching online for it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires, not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased." - The Weight of Glory&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I found it, I also found a number of other quotes that I really liked.  I've read a good amount of his fiction, but not a lot of his nonfiction.  The following quotes have convinced me that I need to start reading his nonfiction as soon as I can get my hands on some.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is something more stern and splendid than mere kindness." - The Problem of Pain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love may forgive all infirmities and love still in spite of them: but Love cannot cease to will their removal." -The Problem of Pain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This year, or this month, or, more likely, this very day, we have failed to practice ourselves the kind of behavior we expect from other people." -Mere Christianity&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken." -The Four Loves&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Everyone feels benevolent if nothing happens to be annoying him at the moment." -The Problem of Pain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the first quote is the one that I've been thinking about for the last several days; the idea that we are content in this world to substitute the potential greatness offered us because we are not only unable to imagine such greatness, but because we are content to amuse ourselves with drink, sex, ambition, sports, art, television, and shopping.  Even as Christians we are often able to put such worldly activities in a place of greater importance despite knowing and "believing" in God's promises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd been thinking this past year about how I am "far too easily pleased" and don't  bother to give the extra effort in what I do, or settle for less than I know is due me, simply because it's easier.  I got my STRIVE tattoo to be a reminder of this fact, and yet, I can think of a number of times since getting it that I've ignored my own "advice" and settled or compromised in order to make things easier.  What are we, but fickle beings who cling only to what makes us feel better, feel safer, only to change our minds about what we like, when constant, uncompromising joy, strength, safety, and peace are available to us in God.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-3542073492199316625?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/3542073492199316625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=3542073492199316625' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/3542073492199316625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/3542073492199316625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/09/cs-lewis-and-my-reflections.html' title='C.S. Lewis and my Reflections'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-3376716911818182061</id><published>2008-09-21T23:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T23:32:49.981-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='band'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='repost'/><title type='text'>Maybe?</title><content type='html'>Original post: 1/21/07&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think if I knew that my music impacted one person and caused them to do something (positive) that they wouldn't have otherwise done, I wouldn't think I'd wasted my time playing music. I don't know...I've been feeling nostalgic lately, wishing Served to Raise had made it big.  If only I could find my "voice" then maybe I would know what to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-3376716911818182061?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/3376716911818182061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=3376716911818182061' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/3376716911818182061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/3376716911818182061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/09/maybe.html' title='Maybe?'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-4581806219005605208</id><published>2008-09-21T23:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T23:30:14.993-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='repost'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chattanooga'/><title type='text'>Observations outside of Greyfriar's</title><content type='html'>Original post; 4/26/06&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4/17/06         &lt;br /&gt;2:50PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's and older man sitting outside of Greyfriar's about two tables down from me.  His motorized scooter has a worn American flag sticker on the side of it.  The smell of his cigarette drifts over after the flick of his lighter.  I don't look up.  He came barreling out the door with a jarring bag-metal hitting metal-as if he needed to escape from some smoke-free prison.  His neatly trimmed beard is at odds with his dark tan and worn clothes.  His white polo shirt now more closely resembles a light beige from the dust and sweat he collects rolling around downtown.  But I guess a razor doesn't cost all that much nowadays.  But what costs money is a down jacket.  Like a North Face or Marmot or something of the same vein.  Why do homeless people always seem to have such good jackets?  I've never seen a homeless person whose jacket looked like it let them down at night.  Perhaps I've just seen the wealthy homeless and not the poor.  He throws his half-finished cigarette on the ground behind him and rolls over to the door.  After a moments pause he slams his scooter into the door and rolls back into Greyfriars-coffee cup in hand-in search of more creamer or sugar or loose change.  His discarded cigarette flits around in the breeze over the dirt mound next to a tree trunk-nearly burnt to the filter.  The last things I notice besides his straw hat are the oxygen tubes that I mistook for a chinstrap and the tank on the back of his scooter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-4581806219005605208?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/4581806219005605208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=4581806219005605208' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/4581806219005605208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/4581806219005605208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/09/observations-outside-of-greyfriars.html' title='Observations outside of Greyfriar&apos;s'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-8599645068713137915</id><published>2008-09-21T23:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T23:24:11.615-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='repost'/><title type='text'>SIP Conclusions</title><content type='html'>Original post 4/20/05&lt;br /&gt;(For those of you who didn't go to Covenant College, a SIP is our Senior Integration Project (Sr. thesis).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided several things while writing my SIP:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ought to be a better poet.&lt;br /&gt;I ought to be a better lyricist.&lt;br /&gt;I ought to get off the mountain more.&lt;br /&gt;I ought to listen to more diverse music.&lt;br /&gt;I ought to have a bigger hard drive on my laptop.&lt;br /&gt;I ought to have a new computer (hell with the old one). Actually, as of now I need one. Literally.&lt;br /&gt;I ought to get more sleep.&lt;br /&gt;I ought to get to sleep at a reasonable hour.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-8599645068713137915?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/8599645068713137915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=8599645068713137915' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/8599645068713137915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/8599645068713137915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/09/sip-conclusions.html' title='SIP Conclusions'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-57196529275208669</id><published>2008-09-21T23:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T23:23:57.540-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='repost'/><title type='text'>Blank Blog Syndrome (BBS)</title><content type='html'>Original post: sometime in early 2004&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have come to the conclusion that I suffer from Blank Blog Syndrome (BBS).  The only time I feel a blog is when the front page of my blog is blank.  Once I post to get rid of the blankness, I blog for the next few days and then go for several more weeks  without blogging.  So here I am, starting the cycle once again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-57196529275208669?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/57196529275208669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=57196529275208669' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/57196529275208669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/57196529275208669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/09/blank-blog-syndrome-bbs.html' title='Blank Blog Syndrome (BBS)'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-4401207855584390208</id><published>2008-09-21T23:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T23:14:27.568-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='repost'/><title type='text'>A Lost in Translation Haiku</title><content type='html'>Original post date: 04/26/04&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Haiku&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lost in Translation"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I bound to sit&lt;br /&gt;forever-bathrobe, slippers-&lt;br /&gt;Just like Bill Murray?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-4401207855584390208?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/4401207855584390208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=4401207855584390208' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/4401207855584390208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/4401207855584390208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/09/lost-in-translation-haiku.html' title='A Lost in Translation Haiku'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-657187729897951781.post-325530799638926409</id><published>2008-09-21T23:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T23:14:41.013-04:00</updated><title type='text'>BBS...no known cure.</title><content type='html'>So my last &lt;a href="http://fridsma.covblogs.com/"&gt;blog&lt;/a&gt; has apparently lost the ability to show any old posts.  So I am moving any old blog content that isn't particularly dated to this new blog.  Hopefully it will prove itself to be slightly more sustainable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/657187729897951781-325530799638926409?l=servedtorock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/feeds/325530799638926409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=657187729897951781&amp;postID=325530799638926409' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/325530799638926409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/657187729897951781/posts/default/325530799638926409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://servedtorock.blogspot.com/2008/09/bbsno-known-cure.html' title='BBS...no known cure.'/><author><name>Sdflcorran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04646251182743264322</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-_eRWc-asdw/SNcTYMuhobI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/akNASmP5qGk/S220/1469204473_a28c88f6a2_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
