<?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-4009649685486713746</id><updated>2011-07-07T23:03:49.178-07:00</updated><category term='lunchtime randomness'/><category term='belly dance belldance bellydancer belly dancer props history bellydancing'/><title type='text'>Hip-drops and hair dye</title><subtitle type='html'>Blog of a Big Bellydancer</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>37</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-8033183857658521981</id><published>2009-10-03T08:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T09:34:47.437-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The International Bellydance Congress and the launch of the H.M.S Cecil!</title><content type='html'>I've been meaning to write a post about the Congress for a week now, but before I go into that, I'm going to inform you of a slight change of plan.&lt;br /&gt;I've been meaning to create a bellydance 'stuff' only blog for a while, so I've decided to keep this blog as it is, but only post stuff about bellydancing, eg. dvd reviews, info etc. Sooo, my new blog is going to be used for all my other stuff, but I'd appreciate it if you read both ^^ Also, if you know any bellydancers, it would be great to have more people to read this blog ^^ For updates about Cecil's random life, please go to:&lt;br /&gt;http://theadventuresofsailorcecil.blogspot.com&lt;br /&gt;Yay! Ok, now we can move onto the congress:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday:&lt;br /&gt;It's probably impossible to explain how ridiculously excited I was when we arrived. Seriously. No, srsly. Anyway, the queue to register didn't actually take as long as we were worried it was gonna (registration opened at 12, first workshop at one, about 1000 bellydancers attending the weekend to register etc etc.(...I use etc. too much...and these dots, I forget the name for them)), but we were done by about 12.15pm, which left 45mins to have a drink and try to quell my excitment before the first workshop: LST Signature moves with Les Soeurs Tribales.&lt;br /&gt;LST are a trio of italian tribal bellydancers who are covered in tattoos, in the most awesome way possible. The one who spoke the most english sat at the front and translated what the others were saying. Another danced in the little patch of flooring in the middle of all the carpet and demonstrated moves, and the other stood towards the back, so that when we danced facing the back, we could watch her for what to do next. The workshop was great fun; we were taught combos that they as a group use, then we practiced using them in improvisation. Tribal bellydance is always done with at least one other person (as our translator put it; you can't be a tribe by yourself) and is all improvised. You follow a leader (the dancer in the front) and depending what little cues she does (a certain hand position, or a "yip!"), you all dance in near perfect synchronicity. Hard to begin with, but easier and lots of fun as we went on.&lt;br /&gt;Next, we &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;were&lt;/span&gt; going to go to another workshop, but I wasn't particularly interested and I managed to sufficiently distract my mum with the prospect of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;shopping&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Aw man, I don't even want to think about the shopping too much, cos it makes me wish I'd taken advantage of all the great stuff and spent more money. Baisically, there were three different shopping areas. In the first day, we spent...lets just say a lot. There was sooo much stuff for class wear and performance wear, casual wear and awesome props! But yes, must not think about it!.&lt;br /&gt;After going back to our hotel to shower and change etc, we went back to the congress for the evening show. Of course, it didn't start at 7pm, but it definatly made up for it! The first show was put together by one of the women who had organsied the congress and who runs a bellydance company, which also provides qualified teachers to the masses. The theme of the show was elements, and in the first half we had water and earth, and in the second, air and fire. All 4 included different bellydance styles and performances by soloists and small groups.&lt;br /&gt;After the main show, there was a smaller, tribal show. This was amazing and included tribal improv., tribal fusion, gothic bellydance and a performace with fan veils by Les Soeurs Tribales. There were a couple of intervals between the dances, in which a dj played fusion tracks and people were invited to dance. We didn't. Well, a few did, including what was obviously part of a Tribe who had all gone to the congress together. As I said before, tribal is all improvised, and upcoming combos are displayed through the use of subtle cues. It was amazing to watch, as every time I looked up, another member of the tribe got up from the table they were sitting at, and immediatly fell into sync with the other dancers. And I don't mean hesitating for a moment, stumbling and trying to follow what the leader is doing, I mean instantly falling into step with the rest of the tribe. I really wish that I'd gone up to them afterwards (or at the numerous other opportunities I had) to tell them how great I thought their dancing was and how seemless they were.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, to prevent boring you to death straight away with an account of teh whole weekend (and also cos I need to go shower before I go out...(omg there they are again!!!)), I've decided to write about the congress in three parts, a day in each. Part Deux shall be posted tomorrow (...possibly).&lt;br /&gt;Sayonara!&lt;br /&gt;(If you find any spelling errors, I'm sorry, I'm just feeling particularly lazy atm &gt;&lt; (=^.^=))&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-8033183857658521981?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/8033183857658521981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=8033183857658521981' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/8033183857658521981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/8033183857658521981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2009/10/international-bellydance-congress-and.html' title='The International Bellydance Congress and the launch of the H.M.S Cecil!'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-3846736640446803020</id><published>2009-09-17T12:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T12:23:04.300-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fish</title><content type='html'>&lt;script type="text/javascript" src="http://widgets.clearspring.com/o/48cfe5b37f644537/4ab28c9710effc0d/48cfe5b37f644537/fbc39fe0/widget.js"&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-3846736640446803020?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/3846736640446803020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=3846736640446803020' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/3846736640446803020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/3846736640446803020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2009/09/fish.html' title='Fish'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-7641255956234291508</id><published>2009-08-03T13:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T13:37:27.781-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So</title><content type='html'>I've failed one of my modules by 4.marks. Now, I have to miss 4 days of work (about £250-£300) cos the flights are all fucked up. I emailed admin, explaining that I'm an international student, and that it's difficult for me to get to the exam, especially as I'm also working, and, as nice as the admin lady was, I was baisically told that I have no choice but to attend the exam, cos if i don't, I'll have to retake this one module next year along with all my other stuff. If I fail it again, I will be transferred to a degree without honours.&lt;br /&gt;Honest to god,&lt;br /&gt;I. Cannot. Take. The. Stress.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-7641255956234291508?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/7641255956234291508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=7641255956234291508' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/7641255956234291508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/7641255956234291508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2009/08/so.html' title='So'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-1126299690765353978</id><published>2009-06-28T06:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T06:26:49.535-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mmm Sun...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SkdvcQTJgzI/AAAAAAAAAI0/zRA1vZcj3Yk/s1600-h/Beach.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352369213355426610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SkdvcQTJgzI/AAAAAAAAAI0/zRA1vZcj3Yk/s400/Beach.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                               ...Would have been a nice beach day today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-1126299690765353978?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/1126299690765353978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=1126299690765353978' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/1126299690765353978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/1126299690765353978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2009/06/mmm-sun.html' title='Mmm Sun...'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SkdvcQTJgzI/AAAAAAAAAI0/zRA1vZcj3Yk/s72-c/Beach.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-7545423661586391496</id><published>2009-05-08T12:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T13:46:01.428-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ta2</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Yes! I finally got it done! Man, I'm sooo happy! The artist did such a good job! I didn't plan on it being this big tbh, but he put the transfer on, and took a pic for me to have a look at and I actually like it like this!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;It took about an hour, roughly. Got there just before 3, then had to wait a lil' bit, then put the transfer on etc etc. The artist told me that the first tattoo always hurts the most, and that the first few mins would be the worst. It was ok actually, looking back. Some stars hurt more than others, but the line art was definatly worse the the shading in. The buzz of the needle before it touches your skin for the first time is pretty off putting as well, but it was ok.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;I'd definatly recommend it though! Just make sure you have an artist that likes to chat! We talked about sooo much stuff! Everything from music tastes to traveling, including things like noisy students and what people thought about tattoos/piercings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Also, make sure you go with someone who doesn't mind a semi-permenant loss of feeling in their hand! I took Scott with me and I hope that he soon regains the full use of his right hand ^_^&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;Anyway, picture time! Please comment Team Marmite!&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333556974414137042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SgSZz1FDBtI/AAAAAAAAAIs/ydnO233J1AQ/s400/100_0485.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-7545423661586391496?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/7545423661586391496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=7545423661586391496' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/7545423661586391496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/7545423661586391496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2009/05/ta2.html' title='Ta2'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SgSZz1FDBtI/AAAAAAAAAIs/ydnO233J1AQ/s72-c/100_0485.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-8868451956397682488</id><published>2009-05-07T11:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T11:51:28.579-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aaaahhhh...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;As I'm typing this, I'm being spoken to by my freezer...apparently (Spotify adverts, yay &gt;&lt;). Just thought I'd mention it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Anyways, I assumed the next thing I'd most on here would be pictures of my tattoo (which i'm getting tomorrow yay! ^_^) but after catching up on Marinas and Freddies blogs, I felt like posting somthing too. Unfortunatly, this means that I have no idea what I'm gonna post, but let's just see where it takes us, shall we? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Anyway, (man, I start lots of sentences like that don't I?)I'm kinda worried. I feel like i should be more panicked by the fact that I have a 2000 word report due on monday which i havnt started yet, an essay to type up and add 250 words to and I have exams coming up which i havn't started revising for either, but...I'm not. Atm, I'm really not fussed lol. I think it's the weather... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Going back to the start, has anyone else heard of Spotify? It's like this thing you download and you stream music from it. And you can search whatever you want (it has most stuff) so if you're craving a song which you don't have and can't download (we get banned from the internet if we do it here...) you can just listen to it whenever! Unfortunatly, it means you have to listen to adverts &gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Hm...what else...Well I started using a bow in my violin lessons. It sounds like I'm skinning a live cat, it really does &gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Oh, speaking of girls, what the hell is up with bitches going schizo for no reason?! Really, I did NOTHING! and I get called a wanker! Er hello! That's biologically impossible! Jeeeeezz, I think we need to keep SOMEONE away from the alcopops &gt;&lt;&lt;br /&gt;On a closing note, if any of you are bored (you know, when you should be revising and stuffs), there's a reeeaaally cool drama on BBC iPlayer atm called 'All the small things', centers around a woman with 3 kids who's part of a choir that her husband conducts. It may sound a little boring, but I can't say much more or I'll give it away.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways (there it is again) please watch even the first episode of it and let me know what you think!!!&lt;br /&gt;Cya tomorrow with pics of my new tattoo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-8868451956397682488?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/8868451956397682488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=8868451956397682488' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/8868451956397682488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/8868451956397682488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2009/05/aaaahhhh.html' title='Aaaahhhh...'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-3717595181556295031</id><published>2009-04-22T07:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T07:45:07.532-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And I'm feelin' good.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Summer! Yes, Summer! I don't care what people say, we're definatly moving into Summer weather now. The weather in Hull is amazing! It's been gorgeous since I've got back and I love it! As my new t-shirt says; "&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;J'adore Sunshine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't everything seem better when it's sunny? For example, I did &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;no&lt;/span&gt; uni work over the easter holidays. I have a report and an essay due on May 11th, as well as a load of revision cards to get through before my exams, but I'm not actually feeling that worried yet. I mean, obviously I know I should be (I'm not allowed to re-take anything &gt;&lt;) but it's just so hard to get worked up about stuff when the weather's this nice, you know? I'll probably try and do some later when it gets &lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;colder/darker&lt;/span&gt;, but I'm not making any promises! Right now, all I want to do is drink homemade lemonade and listen to Cat Power. Also, most likely due to the gorgeous weather, I have decided 2 things; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;1) I'm dying my hair red again (hopefully on Friday) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;And &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;2)I'm finally going to learn how to play the violin. I've found lessons and I'm checking prices of violins on Friday! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;So what's the weather like with everyone else?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327526329210663186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 522px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 136px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/Se8s-FAkcRI/AAAAAAAAAIc/v5t1aJ0QyLQ/s400/jersey.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-3717595181556295031?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/3717595181556295031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=3717595181556295031' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/3717595181556295031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/3717595181556295031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2009/04/and-im-feelin-good.html' title='And I&apos;m feelin&apos; good.'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/Se8s-FAkcRI/AAAAAAAAAIc/v5t1aJ0QyLQ/s72-c/jersey.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-7749678394047459160</id><published>2009-02-21T15:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T16:13:33.815-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm a Tomato Box Fairy!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Kinda following on from my last post, I'm writing a post about another anime/manga.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;This is a very funny historical web-manga called 'Hetalia' or 'Axis Powers Hetalia'. Hetalia is the Japanese way of spelling Italy, and this is the character we follow (specifically, Northern Italy). In this manga, different countries are actually represented by people ('Anthromorphic Personification' lolz :P).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;The main 3 are Italy (Hetalia), Germany (Doitsu) and Japan (Nihon), as these were the 'Axis Powers'. Then of course you have the 'Allied Forces' or England (Igirisu), America (Amerika), France (Furansu), China (Chugoku) and Russia (Roshia). All the characters refer to each other as such, although occasionaly in the manga, we are told of their actual names (eg Japan is Honda Kiku). These aren't all the characters, obviously, but they're the main ones, and you get introduced to more as the manga goes on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;Anyways, I'll talk more about the Anime as the layout of each episode it actually easier to understand. Each episode is about 5 mins, and half is of 'storyline' and the other half is called 'Chibitalia' The storyline goes through in historical order, eg. we start off really in WW1, where Italy and Germany meet. In Chibitalia, it's like a flashback to when Italy was young. There, we're introduced to members of Italy's 'family', such as his grandfather, Roman Empire; his brother, Southern Italy; and his two older brothers, Spain and France. We also meet 'Holy Roman Empire', who keeps trying to get young Italy to go to his house (join him, baisically).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;Because the Anime is new (started this year), there are only 4 episodes so far, which can be found on Veoh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Although this manga/anime is quite silly most of the time, the events, such as the 'fights' and the fact that there is a Northern and Southern Italy character, are actually pretty accurate historically.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Anywho, i would definatly recommend this manga/anime. Like I said before, the manga is a little more confusing, but there's more of it than the anime so far. Go watch it! Each episode it only 5mins long!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="410" height="341" id="veohFlashPlayer" name="veohFlashPlayer"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.veoh.com/static/swf/webplayer/WebPlayer.swf?version=AFrontend.5.3.9.1005&amp;permalinkId=v17403454mNwtKzrM&amp;player=videodetailsembedded&amp;videoAutoPlay=0&amp;id=anonymous"&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.veoh.com/static/swf/webplayer/WebPlayer.swf?version=AFrontend.5.3.9.1005&amp;permalinkId=v17403454mNwtKzrM&amp;player=videodetailsembedded&amp;videoAutoPlay=0&amp;id=anonymous" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="410" height="341" id="veohFlashPlayerEmbed" name="veohFlashPlayerEmbed"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;Watch &lt;a href="http://www.veoh.com/browse/videos/category/travel/watch/v17403454mNwtKzrM"&gt;Hetalia 01 SUB ENG&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;|&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;View More &lt;a href="http://www.veoh.com"&gt;Free Videos Online at Veoh.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-7749678394047459160?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/7749678394047459160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=7749678394047459160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/7749678394047459160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/7749678394047459160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2009/02/im-tomato-box-fairy.html' title='I&apos;m a Tomato Box Fairy!'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-1345795964950727654</id><published>2009-02-12T01:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T02:19:14.035-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Come and save me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SZP17aMWVhI/AAAAAAAAAIE/aVXRne_ePiw/s1600-h/ergoproxy_2_640.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301851587337410066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SZP17aMWVhI/AAAAAAAAAIE/aVXRne_ePiw/s400/ergoproxy_2_640.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This blog probably isn't as exciting as the title suggests.I just wanted to write a quick blog about an anime I've been watching with Anime Society at University. &lt;div&gt;I'll start off by describing what a confusing anime it is. I missed a week or two of society, and it's taken a while to understand the story again...well as much as I can :P. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's a kind sci-fi anime, which I thought would put me off, as I am sooo not into sci-fi, but oh my god, the art! It's just so well drawn, not your typical eyes-that-take-up-half-the-face and silly-side-charcters anime, it's actually very serious, but in a good way!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, storyline! It's kinda of...post-apocalyptic in a way. Baisically, it's mainly set in this big city called Romdo, which is inside this big dome. There is life outside the dome too, but it's all desolate, like after a disaster. Anyway, in this dome, humans have android (AutoReivs) servants, I guess you'd call them (it's all very confusing). Anyway, a virus (cogito) which causes beserk robots to commit murders threatens this very well ordered society.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The main characters are a girl called Lil (Real, Re-L, Rielle, you know, Japanese pronounciation of the letter 'R' and all that) Mayer, who is assigned to investigate these murders, and an immigrant called Vincent Law (Both pictured in pic at the top). There's also the adorable autoreiv called Pino, who was created as a surrogate child to a human couple. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301851590180171922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 227px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SZP17kyHcJI/AAAAAAAAAIM/hxkq0uZpeW8/s400/pino.jpg" border="0" /&gt;However you're going to have to watch it to get more of the storyline. As confusing and strange as this anime is, I completely recommend it, even if you do just to appreciate the art.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Actually, even just for the opening music, watch it! Tell me what you think of the opening! (It's just below, no excuses :P)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="295" width="480"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4oT2W3gaUBc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4oT2W3gaUBc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-1345795964950727654?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/1345795964950727654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=1345795964950727654' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/1345795964950727654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/1345795964950727654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2009/02/come-and-save-me.html' title='Come and save me'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SZP17aMWVhI/AAAAAAAAAIE/aVXRne_ePiw/s72-c/ergoproxy_2_640.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-5772584349338116027</id><published>2009-02-01T17:03:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T17:25:02.724-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Art? Yeh, er, I don't think so...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I seem to be on a roll with blogs about things that annoy me huh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Okay, how many of you go on deviantart? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Okay, have you ever had a pic added to a 'collection'? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Or do you do it yourself with other peoples cool pics that you want to be able to quickly have a look at to sample some amazing art? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Cool! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;How about having a look at the Most Popular Collections page? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Well, if you have, you surely will have noticed the sheer number of collections of photos of naked women, miscorrectly labeled as 'art'? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Honest. To. God!&lt;/span&gt; I mean, the majority of the time, it's not even tasteful! There are photos of women spreading their legs!!! I'm not even paraphrasing here, I mean &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;LITERALLY&lt;/span&gt; spreading their legs!! Sometimes these pictures are given an arty look, like '&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;black&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;white&lt;/span&gt;' or '&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;sepia&lt;/span&gt;' or some airbrushed-shit, but even so, that takes 2 seconds to do on a simple programme. A lot of the time, these just appear to be photos of some guys gf taken in the bedroom. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;The funniest part of this is the names of the collections. Some of them have misleading names, such as &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;'Tasteful Nudes'&lt;/span&gt; or, simply &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;'Nudes'&lt;/span&gt;. However, some are a lot last tasteful and accuratly describe what the photos in the collection are; &lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;'Pussy'&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;'Wet Pussy'&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;'Damn Sexy'&lt;/span&gt; and, my personal favourite, &lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;'OU YEAAH'&lt;/span&gt;. See what I mean?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Come on boys, you know that you'd all kick off if we all took photos of men revealling everything (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;e&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;v&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;e&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;r&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;y&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;t&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;h&lt;/span&gt;-i-&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;n&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;g&lt;/span&gt;), posted them on Deviantart and made collections with names like &lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;'Hot Nekkid Dudes'&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;'Penis!Penis!Penis!'&lt;/span&gt;. It's called Deviant&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Art&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; guys, go buy a topshelf magazine like everybody else...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#33ffff;"&gt;...I'm not actually kidding, there is one called 'OU YEAAH'...I know *sweat drop*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-5772584349338116027?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/5772584349338116027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=5772584349338116027' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/5772584349338116027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/5772584349338116027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2009/02/art-yeh-er-i-dont-think-so.html' title='Art? Yeh, er, I don&apos;t think so...'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-2226731521557954861</id><published>2009-01-24T12:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T12:36:11.527-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Umbrella-ella-ella-ay-ay-NO!</title><content type='html'>Oh my God!!! What is with people and fucking umbrellas?! Seriously! I never really used them, cos their so annoying!!&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, you walk past another person carrying an umbrella when you're walking and they knock together and throw you off balance!!!&lt;br /&gt;And even if you don't have one, if you walk past someone else with one, they get stuck in your hair, your eye and god knows where else!!!&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the whole reason for me startin this rant was 'cos, I was waiting to go in for an exam the other day, and it was raining, and there was this girl was like right on top of me! And not in a good way! All I could feel were the fucking prongs of her demon umbrella hitting me in the back of the head!!&lt;br /&gt;ARGH!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-2226731521557954861?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/2226731521557954861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=2226731521557954861' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/2226731521557954861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/2226731521557954861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2009/01/umbrella-ella-ella-ay-ay-no.html' title='Umbrella-ella-ella-ay-ay-NO!'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-8898423899203546081</id><published>2009-01-16T05:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T06:12:02.873-08:00</updated><title type='text'>*sigh*</title><content type='html'>Well I'm back in Hull &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;finally&lt;/span&gt;! I'm so glad to be back here, in my nice room with a balconey and my internet connection which I don't have to walk outside in the cold to get.&lt;br /&gt;I would be feeling absolutly &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;perfect&lt;/span&gt; at the moment if it wasn't for exams &gt;&lt; color="#ff0000"&gt;stressing&lt;/span&gt; me out. Yes, I &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;know&lt;/span&gt; it's my own damn fault, but even when I revise now, i get so distracted by the fact that I won't have revised enough that it puts me off it...if this makes sense. I have all the info, but it's just...&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;argh&lt;/span&gt;, you know?&lt;br /&gt;I should also sort my room out. I got back here at about 11.30 this morning, and since then I have set my laptop and internet up, sorted out my iPod speakers, put some little trinkets and my Death Note manga set onto the book case and...that's all. There's just so much that I have to do that I can't really bring myself to start, you know? I mean, it won't actually take my that long to be honest, but it's like the revision, getting started is the hard bit.&lt;br /&gt;Any way, enough about 'now', let's go back a little bit.&lt;br /&gt;Christmas break was really good, it was nice to just hang out with my family again, go shopping with my mum, listening to crazy, upbeat music with her in the car and singing along &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;so&lt;/span&gt; enthusiastically that people in the cars driving past us in teh opposite direction must have thought that we were having some sort of 'attack'. Good Times. I have also discovered, for future reference, that The Mandarin Room (Chinese Resturant) sells Dango as a desert!! :O If you don't know what this is, it is a Japanese desert made with glutinous rice flour and seseame seeds, and this particular one has chocolate in the middle. Mmmmmm. Go there, try it!&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of going to cool places, Spiders on Sat! For the first time in &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;ages&lt;/span&gt;! I miss it so much. The problem is, I got so many great clothes over Christmas that would be &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;AWESOME&lt;/span&gt; to wear, that I'm going to have to go every weekend for the next few months :P this sat, I'm going to wear my new Vivienne Westwood top, with my tutu skirt, red tartan tights and either my boots, or cute little 'Lolita' style shoes. Can't wait! Im suffering from withdrawl symptoms.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I think that I've procrastinated enough &gt;&lt;&lt;br /&gt;To Do;&lt;br /&gt;1)Sort room out (all of it)&lt;br /&gt;2)Revise!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-8898423899203546081?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/8898423899203546081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=8898423899203546081' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/8898423899203546081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/8898423899203546081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2009/01/sigh.html' title='*sigh*'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-8792690093835457960</id><published>2008-12-14T16:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T17:00:14.421-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Super Happy Blog Time!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SUWrSoqZTkI/AAAAAAAAAH0/aKcUyERbtdE/s1600-h/Rawr!.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279814474803007042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 467px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 345px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SUWrSoqZTkI/AAAAAAAAAH0/aKcUyERbtdE/s400/Rawr!.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Hello!!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Do you like my very Engrish title? After going through Marina's, Freddie's and Tori's blogs, I have decided to do a random blog post!! Don't reeeaaally have anything in particular to say, but I feel left out :P I feel a lil giddy as well cos I've sorted all my essays nd CW out now, and all I have to worry about is my japanese listenin test on thurs, but I'm good at it so i'm not too worried :P (also a little giddy because I haven't eaten properly in like 5 days nd I've just eaten one of those chocolate elves with the crackling sugar :P mmmm, elves....Also, I have the gummy bear song on repeat :P loolz)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Anywho! I'm getting soooo excited! about coming home!! In fact, it's soooo exciting, that I'm giving you an itinery :P Aren't you lucky!?! :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;-Get up at 4am on Friday morning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;(Yeh that's right)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;-Go to Hull Station to catch the 6am train to Stalybridge &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;(If anyone knows where the hell this place is, details would be appreciated)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;-At 8.02am, leave Stalybridge for Manchester Airport&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;-Arrive in Manchester Airport at...some point &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;(Hopefully)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;-Leave Manchester for Jersey at 10.15am&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;-Arrive in Jersey at 11.15am!!! Yay!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;-Go home. Go to bed. Sleep &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;(For the next 3 days &gt;&lt;;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;How exciting! I can't actually wait to see my beloved Team Marmite again! I have all your xmas presents sitting here :P Can't wait for you to see them! They're only little, but I wouldnt keep them if i was that heartless!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I was talking to my mum on the phone the other day, and she was like "Is there anything you want to eat when you come home on Friday?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;and I was like ":O Chicken Curry!!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Seriously, I miss my mums cooking soooo much! I'm only catered for the evening meal here at the centre, but believe me kids, it's one meal too much &gt;&lt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Erm...I'm sure I was gonna say other stuff but I've forgotten, lol :S&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I'm ill, have to be up at 9 2moro and have problems sleeping...I should go to bed now! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Please comment Team Marmite!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-8792690093835457960?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/8792690093835457960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=8792690093835457960' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/8792690093835457960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/8792690093835457960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/12/super-happy-blog-time.html' title='Super Happy Blog Time!'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SUWrSoqZTkI/AAAAAAAAAH0/aKcUyERbtdE/s72-c/Rawr!.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-3351424591564595247</id><published>2008-11-23T21:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T21:10:53.501-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Take Me With You</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SSo2ne496XI/AAAAAAAAAHs/EGIN0gKVBLc/s1600-h/Take+me+with+you.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272086365725387122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SSo2ne496XI/AAAAAAAAAHs/EGIN0gKVBLc/s400/Take+me+with+you.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;There's no one in town I know &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;You gave us some place to go. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I never said thank you for that&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I thought I might get one more chance. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;What would you think of me now&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;So lucky, so strong, so proud? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I never said thank you for that, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Now I'll never have a chance&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;May angels lead you in&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Hear you me, my friends. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;On sleepless roads the sleepless go. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;May angels lead you in. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Now what would you think of me now, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;So lucky, so strong, so proud? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I never said thank you for that, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Now I'll never have a chance. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;May angels lead you in. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Hear you me, my friends. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;On sleepless roads the sleepless go. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;May angels lead you in. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;And if you were with me tonight, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I'd sing to you just one more time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;A song for a heart so big, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;God couldn't let it live. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;May angels lead you in. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Hear you me, my friends. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;On sleepless roads the sleepless go&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;May angels lead you in. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;May angels lead you in. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Hear you me, my friends. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;On sleepless roads the sleepless go. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;May angels lead you in. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;May angels lead you in.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-3351424591564595247?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/3351424591564595247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=3351424591564595247' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/3351424591564595247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/3351424591564595247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/11/take-me-with-you.html' title='Take Me With You'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SSo2ne496XI/AAAAAAAAAHs/EGIN0gKVBLc/s72-c/Take+me+with+you.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-2578196449413891635</id><published>2008-11-22T08:49:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T09:07:10.040-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snowy Sunset</title><content type='html'>I had a very calm experience this afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;While I was walking back from food shopping in Cottingham (a little village about 5 minutes walk from my halls of residence), it started snowing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Is wasnt heavy snow. It wasn't even very thick. In fact, it was the kinda of snow you can only see when you're not looking at it. Out of the corner of your eye, you can just see a few tiny white flakes. Try and look again, and they'll be gone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At the time, I was listening to some very soft Japanese music; a couple of women were singing with a shamisen or two. I looked across over the lawn, and saw the sun starting to set.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;The sky above me was turning a deep blue, and the sky on the horizon was a bright blue, with almost invisible, stretched-out clouds dotted lazily across it. You could just about see the light orange/pink of the sun going down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Once I was back in my room, and after I'd eaten something (about 15 minutes ago), I looked out of my window and saw it snowing again, this time much thicker and faster. I rushed to grab my university hoodie so I wouldn't freeze, picked up my camera, and unlocked the door leading to my little balconey. After taking some pictures, I spent a few minutes just trying to catch the little white flakes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wish that the pictures you're about to see could really capture what it looked and felt like, but I think you'll just have to imagine it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271527109313303922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SSg5-eZ2FXI/AAAAAAAAAHc/Q2rf-XHUbtY/s400/100_0082.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271528169007411858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SSg68KEm8pI/AAAAAAAAAHk/sTBVzE6rqyI/s400/100_0083.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;On another note, I promise to write a real blog soon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-2578196449413891635?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/2578196449413891635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=2578196449413891635' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/2578196449413891635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/2578196449413891635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/11/snowy-sunset.html' title='Snowy Sunset'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SSg5-eZ2FXI/AAAAAAAAAHc/Q2rf-XHUbtY/s72-c/100_0082.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-6394831255231833201</id><published>2008-11-11T14:00:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T14:02:51.053-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"Sometimes I cry all night,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;                                              &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;And it hurts so bad"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;                                               &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-6394831255231833201?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/6394831255231833201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=6394831255231833201' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/6394831255231833201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/6394831255231833201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/11/sometimes-i-cry-all-night-and-it-hurts.html' title=''/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-5805721584218025191</id><published>2008-09-19T06:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T06:10:57.397-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"The time has come", the walrus said</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SNOknusamaI/AAAAAAAAAFM/u-2RCqe7eeQ/s1600-h/Pic+for+sweatshirt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247718993272936866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 457px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 186px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="186" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SNOknusamaI/AAAAAAAAAFM/u-2RCqe7eeQ/s400/Pic+for+sweatshirt.jpg" width="400" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Dear Team Marmite,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;This is it kids! at 9.00 tonight, I'm getting on a 3 hour boat to England, never to return! (Until Christmas that is).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;I'll never forget all laughs, the in-jokes and the late nights out with you guys. I know lots of people say that they try to stay in contact with their friends from school, but never manage it, but I really want to succeed with you guys, my beloved Team Marmite.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;I wish I could tell you all how much you mean to me, but I still haven't packed (!) so you'll just have to take my word for it instead.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;You all have me added on Facebook, Msn and Skype, so there's no excuse for not talking :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;I'll see all of you at Christmas hopefully, when we can all catch-up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Farewell!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Love Cecil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-5805721584218025191?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/5805721584218025191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=5805721584218025191' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/5805721584218025191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/5805721584218025191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/09/time-has-come-walrus-said.html' title='&quot;The time has come&quot;, the walrus said'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SNOknusamaI/AAAAAAAAAFM/u-2RCqe7eeQ/s72-c/Pic+for+sweatshirt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-4827927020741696330</id><published>2008-09-16T08:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T08:04:42.371-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;A big mistake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;A big waste of time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;And a big waste of money&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-4827927020741696330?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/4827927020741696330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=4827927020741696330' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/4827927020741696330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/4827927020741696330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/09/big-mistake-big-waste-of-time-and-big.html' title=''/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-2353439902743133637</id><published>2008-09-06T07:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T07:03:34.704-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am a Kraken from the sea!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SMKNiZ8wxuI/AAAAAAAAAFE/jdaSspLv0Es/s1600-h/kraken.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242908538433488610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SMKNiZ8wxuI/AAAAAAAAAFE/jdaSspLv0Es/s400/kraken.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                                   &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;RAWR!!!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-2353439902743133637?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/2353439902743133637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=2353439902743133637' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/2353439902743133637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/2353439902743133637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-am-kraken-from-sea.html' title='I am a Kraken from the sea!'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SMKNiZ8wxuI/AAAAAAAAAFE/jdaSspLv0Es/s72-c/kraken.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-2128395478397963133</id><published>2008-08-29T10:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T10:33:43.569-07:00</updated><title type='text'>OWWWWW! But so worth it.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I got my tenth and eleventh piercings yesterday  ^_^ I got both nipples pierced with 1.6 guage barbells and &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;omg!&lt;/span&gt; It hurt so much! But totally worth it, cos I love them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I went in and asked about it, and the girl who did the piercings said 'Ok, so am I doing the left or right?' And I said 'Erm, I'd like both, please?' &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;'Both?!&lt;/span&gt; Are you sure? Well, I'll put out the stuff for one, and if you still want the other one, we can do it after.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;so I got the right one done first and omg it hurt lol She peirced it with a 1.2 guage needle, but put 1.6 guage jewelry in, as it made the peircing much cleaner and it didn't bleed, but it hurt more because it stretched the peircing. Before she did the second one, she told me that she just needed to keep my sugar levels up because it had been a while since I had eaten something, so she gave me a chupa chup lolly ^_^ &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;yay!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Everytime I look at them now I think 'I can't believe I did that!' but so worth it lol ^_^&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-2128395478397963133?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/2128395478397963133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=2128395478397963133' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/2128395478397963133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/2128395478397963133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/08/owwwww-but-so-worth-it.html' title='OWWWWW! But so worth it.'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-229582372102077118</id><published>2008-08-17T13:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T13:12:41.802-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;I tried absinthe for the first time today. I've been wanting to for a while after seeing it in several films that I just love! I didn't drink it as a shot that had been set alight (if it's good quality absinthe, it tastes foul afterwards anyway); I drank it the proper bohemian way with sugar and ice cold water. It tastes like liquorice and/or Sambuca! It's sooo yummy and such a pretty colour :3 It inspired me to draw a picture, which I love so much I'm thinking about getting it on a hoodie with 'Bellydancer' on. Happy days!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235581865801576418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SKiF97eUb-I/AAAAAAAAAE8/PoznLY7Z65Y/s320/absinthe.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-229582372102077118?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/229582372102077118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=229582372102077118' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/229582372102077118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/229582372102077118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/08/absinthe-makes-heart-grow-fonder.html' title='Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SKiF97eUb-I/AAAAAAAAAE8/PoznLY7Z65Y/s72-c/absinthe.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-4155048554605059073</id><published>2008-07-31T10:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-31T10:46:03.205-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hypercondriach Hallucinations</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;Taken from Marinas blog and adapted :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Question: For your birthday, your aunt gave you a maple syrup dispenser shaped like a rooster. Please write her a thank-you note: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Dear Aunt,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Thank you far the maple syrup dispenser. It goes perfect in my funky kitchen next to my squid whisk and Sausage-dog pie-slicer. I've never made pancakes before, but now I have a good excuse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Rachel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Question: If there isn’t an ‘I’ in team, then why is there a ‘me’? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Well, the width of 'me' is thicker than that of 'I', and &lt;strong&gt;They &lt;/strong&gt;wanted to make the word look longer. They did try it with 'I' though, honest.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Question: You've been entered in a shadow puppet contest. What's your best pose?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Well, if I kneel on the floor, curve backwards and bend my arms at the elbows, I become a cobra! Rawr!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Question: If you were a wrestler, what would be your finishing move?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I would poke my opponents eyes out with my fast shoulder-shimmy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Question: Never mind the turtle. Don't you think you're sure to win?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Well, I've never been very good at races. And it's actually a pretty fast turtle...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Question: Whoops! Your tongue is now a magnet. Whatever will you use for silverware? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Well, I have three pairs of chopsticks, and they're pretty easy to get hold of, so I think I'll be ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Question: When you spilled the milk, did it look like the moon?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;It was an awful lot of milk and under all the bright multicoloured lights in my kitchen, it was an almost perfect replica of the solar system!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Question: What did you dream when you ate a spider while sleeping? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;I dreamt that I couldn't speak. I found it didn't make much of a difference in the end.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Question: Come up with some possible band names for your group that features a washboard and a Styrofoam tuba.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Wives with Knives, Shinobi and the Sushi Chefs, The Psycho-Students&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Question: Unlike a dog, how can a turtle ever be naked?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Although I disagree that a dog can never be naked, to make a turtle naked, you simply remove the shell! Would it still be a turtle?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Question: You forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of super glue and olive pits?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;A picture frame in the shape of too large flowers!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Question: Radio wire is often used to make bird nests. What station do they listen to?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Nightingale FM All birdsong, all the time! Though sometimes the male birds listen to Blue Tits on air! It's the radio station of the popular top shelf magazine, don't you know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Question: What would you wear for camouflage if you were hiding in a gingerbread house?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;I'd make the dough for gingerbread and cover myself in it. That witch will never spot me now!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Question: You're trapped in a well with a goat and a slinky. Describe how you will escape.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;I would politely ask the goat if I could saw off his horns. I would then wrap the wires of the slinky around the horns and throw it upwards until it hooked onto something. I would then pick of the goat and climb to safety!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Question: What's the most amount of sand you've ever had in your swimming trunks?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;I'm not sure exactly, but I made a model of the Taj Mahal out of it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Question: What spells can you cast with magic markers?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;All my pictures come to life, even things that were dead! Do you like my picture of a dragon?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;Question: Your hands have been replaced by rubber stamps. What do they say?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Yes and no, so I could express my approval or disapproval!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Question: What reason do you have to believe the earth is flat?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I peeked over the edge and saw one of the elephants. He couldn't wave to me with his foot, or else the world would have tipped and some of the ocean would have dripped off, so he used his trunk instead!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Question: Your pyjamas have duckies on them. Why did you switch from choo-choos?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Because my pyjamas are magical and whatever is on them comes to life! Duckies are much more room-friendly than choo-choos...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-4155048554605059073?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/4155048554605059073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=4155048554605059073' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/4155048554605059073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/4155048554605059073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/07/hypercondriach-hallucinations.html' title='Hypercondriach Hallucinations'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-792981555102314536</id><published>2008-07-25T10:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T15:33:16.921-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bitch, you need to shut your mouth</title><content type='html'>Have you ever had some whore you don't know having a go at you because she's paranoid and delusional? This happened to me today. A friend told me that another mutual friend made up a rumour about me in a game of truth or dare. Now I don't really mind, its all for fun, but as I didn't know who he was telling, I asked him if he could just not make up stuff like that about me again. I got a reply saying why should I care because I don't know the people he was telling. I said that I'd prefer it 'cos I don't make up stuff like that about my friends, And here is how the convo went on from there:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Friend:Well your not my friend and (name) does that on a weekly basis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Me: (Assuming it's my friend talking and not his 'girl-friend') Wow thanks, and how does she feel about ur obesssion you have with (one of my friends)?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Friend (Now revealed to be friends girl-friend): U wana break us up u stupid bitch (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;please bear in mind I don't actually know this girl&lt;/span&gt;)? (Friend/Her BF) Didn't go that far!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Me:Y would I wanna break you up? I don't care about you lol. And I'm hardly stupid if I'm going to uni to do a degree am I.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Friends GF: (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Who clearly misses the point&lt;/span&gt;) Wats that got 2 do with anythin. Look, learn to take a joke n ive seen ur mate y wud he want her when he has me lmao (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Well then clearly she hasn't seen my mate and obv. didn't hear what her BF said when he saw her..&lt;/span&gt;.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Me:Then y did he tell me and (another mate) what he thought about her? Anyway, I'm too mature for this convo and as I don't know you, I want you to stop texting me, you're wastin my inbox space.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;End Conversation. Bitch clearly took a hint :)&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I know for a FACT how her BF felt about my friend because he told me and another friend. &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Huni, just because you're delusional and paranoid, don't take it out on the rest of us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;Update: Apparently this ho nd her bf are having a talk tonight, so clearly something stuck. Although she told my friend (who told me) that they may break up because of me. Right so, because they don't trust each other (which they don't because of something else along a very similar vein which happened that I'm not going to go into) and the slightest hint of anything like what I mentioned is just out of the question, they're going to blame the inevitable break up fo their relationship on me. Well, some people just can't handle honesty /shrug.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-792981555102314536?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/792981555102314536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=792981555102314536' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/792981555102314536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/792981555102314536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/07/bitch-you-need-to-shut-your-mouth.html' title='Bitch, you need to shut your mouth'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-5257218314092557768</id><published>2008-07-01T13:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T13:46:19.534-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Welsh Dragon 1936-2008</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SGqXii_ppRI/AAAAAAAAAE0/sJAia1poBFM/s1600-h/3165600-THE_WELSH_DRAGON-Barry.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218149738027263250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SGqXii_ppRI/AAAAAAAAAE0/sJAia1poBFM/s320/3165600-THE_WELSH_DRAGON-Barry.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;My Naini (Grandmother in Welsh) died yesterday. I guess it's a good thing in the end because she was in so much pain. She told me that she didn't want me to be unhappy, but I can't help it, even though I knew it was comming. All part of the grieving process I guess. I wish I had spent more time with her, perhaps tried to get to England a little more often.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;The other weekend, when I had to get a plane to Hull 20mins after finding out I was going, I was listening to my iPod on the plane. The song Thank U by Alanis Morissette came on, and one of the lyrics just really hit me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;How about not equating death with stopping&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;I found this very meaningful because I get very worried about death and what comes after and I found this calmed me a little bit. She had a really strong faith and was ready to 'Go to Jesus' (as she said to my mother)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;I really hope there's a heaven, for her. If there is, I know she'll be there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;The day she died ( 30th June) is also very meaning ful as it's the day my Grandad (Naini's husband and my mums Dad) died, and also my cousin Kavita's birthday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;My naini was really excited about me going to Hull university to study psychology. She said she wished she had those 3 years while I was living up there. This has made me more determined. I'm not going to be lazy about my uni work, like I have been at school. I'm going to get a 1st, and go on to study to become a doctor of Clinical psychology.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Naini, I miss you so much, I hope you're happy wherever you are.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-5257218314092557768?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/5257218314092557768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=5257218314092557768' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/5257218314092557768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/5257218314092557768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/07/welsh-dragon-1936-2008.html' title='The Welsh Dragon 1936-2008'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SGqXii_ppRI/AAAAAAAAAE0/sJAia1poBFM/s72-c/3165600-THE_WELSH_DRAGON-Barry.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-5980249108306157882</id><published>2008-06-18T13:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T14:16:47.445-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Now, someone is just BEGGING for a slap...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;And the Political Correctness brigade strikes again. Before I go off on one about how much PC irritates me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;soooo&lt;/span&gt; much(!), I'll tell you why I started this blog.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Long story short; I was on the Daily Mail website, and a story caught my eye. Apparently, a woman who runs her own alternative hair salon has lost a court&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt; case against a Muslim woman who sued her for £4,000 (not the original amount, however) because she felt she was being discriminated against because she covered her hair. Let me break this down; &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;She wants to be a hair stylist, yet refused to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt;-cover her own hair.&lt;/span&gt; I know. Apparently, she's been turned down by jobs as a hair stylist before because of this, and the lady who ran this salon said it would have been the same for someone who refused to take a cap off. She wasn't being &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;racist&lt;/span&gt;, she was being practical. If you want to know the bulk of the story, here's the link&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1027300/How-I-driven-brink-ruin-refusing-hire-Muslim-hair-stylist-wouldnt-hair.html"&gt;http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1027300/How-I-driven-brink-ruin-refusing-hire-Muslim-hair-stylist-wouldnt-hair.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;This story got me thinking about how &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;stupid &lt;/span&gt;political correctness really is. We are so afraid of hurting other people because of discrimination, that we come across as &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;idiots&lt;/span&gt; who don't judge a situation fairly. I have a book about political correctness, and I'm just gonna briefly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;summarise&lt;/span&gt; some of the stories. I &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;honestly&lt;/span&gt; can't believe that some of these are true...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;People have tried banning the nursery rhyme 'Baa Baa Black sheep' because it's racist and "portrayed negative stereotypes." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I can't even comment on this one...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;One place in England has stopped serving hot cross buns in schools because the symbol of the cross "will spark complaints from Jewish, Hindu and Muslim pupils and their families." A spokesperson stated "We are moving away from a religious theme for Easter and will not be doing hot cross buns...We will probably be serving &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;naan&lt;/span&gt; breads instead." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, first of all, Easter is a religious holiday! It's a Christian holiday celebrating the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;resurrection&lt;/span&gt; of Jesus! Also, how is serving &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;naan&lt;/span&gt; bread better? I love &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;naan&lt;/span&gt; bread, but it's not like it's a universal thing, is it? It's Middle Eastern and Indian, hardly multi-cultural.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;A book by a prize-winning author was not stocked in libraries in an area in London because it reinforced racist messages. "We were surprised you chose to use a circus with performing animals. In our experience this is now &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;widely&lt;/span&gt; disliked by most carers, who recognises that it raises issues about animal rights...The storyline of a child being &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;threatened&lt;/span&gt; by this creature [a gorilla, normally pictured-as in this book-in black fur] and saved by a little white horse seems to be very insensitive. The presentation of a black, apelike creature as evil and small white creature as good has obvious overtones which many carers find offensive, and which they would not wish to use with children and young people because they may reinforce racist messages." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;I feel so disgusted with humanity that I feel like slapping &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;myself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt; right now...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-5980249108306157882?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/5980249108306157882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=5980249108306157882' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/5980249108306157882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/5980249108306157882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/06/now-someone-is-just-begging-for-slap.html' title='Now, someone is just BEGGING for a slap...'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-4268107834203770725</id><published>2008-06-10T10:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T10:11:45.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Belleh-Dans-Ah!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Surprisingly, this blog is &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; going to be depressing, shock horror! :O&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Nah, it's just a&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt; random&lt;/span&gt; piece of info I feel like sharing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;So, I was England over the weekend, and inbetween visiting my Naini in hospital and buying two dresses, four pairs of shoes and a bikini, I was talking to my Aunty Anna about when I was coming over for university (they live 10mins away from the campus). Somehow, we started talking about &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;bellydancing&lt;/span&gt;, and my aunt was saying how much the girls at the youth club she and my uncle run would be so interested in something like that. So I said about how much I love it and how I love sharing it with other people; not just the actual physical movements, but the history, and the health and emotional benefits.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;So, &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;one thing lead to another&lt;/span&gt; and now I think I'm going to be teaching bellydancing to a group of girls when I go to uni :D I can't wait!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210301579581025026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SE61rmeVawI/AAAAAAAAAEs/pqyIYmbSMhc/s400/solo13.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-4268107834203770725?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/4268107834203770725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=4268107834203770725' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/4268107834203770725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/4268107834203770725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/06/belleh-dans-ah.html' title='A Belleh-Dans-Ah!'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SE61rmeVawI/AAAAAAAAAEs/pqyIYmbSMhc/s72-c/solo13.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-3746703232685712697</id><published>2008-06-03T04:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-03T04:12:18.042-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I think I'm going to be sick...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I'm so stressed out with these exams.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;I just keep thinking about how fucking important they are and how screwed I am if I don't do well.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;I can't even revise properly.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;I try&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;But I just keep getting distracted and start thinking Oh god, I'm &lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;reeeeaaaally&lt;/span&gt; fucked this time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I have 70 studies to learn for Psychology and right now, I could only probably tell you about one, and that's cos I did it in year 12 too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;People keep saying that it will be fine and not to get stressed out, but how can I not!?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I can't concentrate on revising properly, and everytime my mind goes back to my work, I just keep thinking about how much I have to do!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;I just feel like I'm going to be physically sick sometimes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-3746703232685712697?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/3746703232685712697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=3746703232685712697' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/3746703232685712697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/3746703232685712697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-think-im-going-to-be-sick.html' title='I think I&apos;m going to be sick...'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-6613332683810727067</id><published>2008-05-31T09:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-31T09:31:36.415-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh soot balls...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SEF87RA-imI/AAAAAAAAAEc/r62A_BHtTMU/s1600-h/soot+ball.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206580001838631522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 164px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 145px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="90" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SEF87RA-imI/AAAAAAAAAEc/r62A_BHtTMU/s200/soot+ball.gif" width="134" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Aren't these lil' guys just the best characters in Miyazaki's Spirited Away?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-6613332683810727067?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/6613332683810727067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=6613332683810727067' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/6613332683810727067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/6613332683810727067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/05/oh-soot-balls.html' title='Oh soot balls...'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SEF87RA-imI/AAAAAAAAAEc/r62A_BHtTMU/s72-c/soot+ball.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-1458101805083703710</id><published>2008-05-21T12:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T13:40:40.592-07:00</updated><title type='text'>tHe NoBoDy GiRl</title><content type='html'>Something has been confirmed for me this week.&lt;br /&gt;We were watching a video today of all of our class (well, almost all of us) playing pranks on teachers and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;slide shows&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; of photos.&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't in any of the photos.&lt;br /&gt;The video I did wasn't put on either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;They also spelt my name wrong during the 'credits'.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I've been to this school since I was 5.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was also reading a blog today which didn't really help my feelings of being over looked, but I'm not going into that.&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;strong&gt;really&lt;/strong&gt; didn't want to write another depressing blog my last week of school. I'm trying not to cry about all this. I just didn't expect that this is what my last week of school would feel like.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I just feel so isolated that I can't stand it. I'll be out with my friends and feel all alone. There's no one that I can think of that I can really relate to; that I can really trust; that really understands me, all of me.&lt;br /&gt;Like I said at the start of this that something had been confirmed for me.&lt;br /&gt;That thing is the realisation that I am, in a word; &lt;strong&gt;Average&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not obese, but I'm not slim.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not ugly, but I'm not pretty.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not really bad at any subject, but I'm not really good either.&lt;br /&gt;I don't have any particular personality traits, good or bad, that I feel make me stand out.&lt;br /&gt;I don't have any hobbies at which I'm really good at (Don't say &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;belly dancing&lt;/span&gt; because, again, I'm not bad, but neither am I really good).&lt;br /&gt;This will probably all sound like self-pity. I don't want it to, that's not how I want it to come across. I just want people to realise that even small things can affect people, so that, with friends in the future, they'll be more careful.&lt;br /&gt;I wanted this week to be sad, but in a happy way. I'd have photos with my friends, joke around, have fun. I wanted to be loud and laughing on Friday at school, then go out with my friends afterwards.&lt;br /&gt;I just feel so overlooked and ignored, so lonely. I felt segregated enough as it is.&lt;br /&gt;I want acknowledgement from other people so much that I almost constantly refresh my email page, in the hopes of a note from a friend. I even change my opinions on things because I think that people will talk to me more about something if they think I share the view (also to avoid conflict), &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;similar&lt;/span&gt; to why I use '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Lol&lt;/span&gt;' so much on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;msn&lt;/span&gt;, even when I'm being serious about something.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure if many (or any) of those who read this blog understand that the only reason I haven't tried killing myself yet is because, when I've held the scissors against my arm (and I have), I've lacked the courage of my convictions to press down just that little bit harder.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not using colours in this blog post. The font and colour will be average.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Like me.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-1458101805083703710?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/1458101805083703710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=1458101805083703710' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/1458101805083703710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/1458101805083703710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/05/nobody-girl.html' title='tHe NoBoDy GiRl'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-7823342363532436479</id><published>2008-05-18T09:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-18T09:45:21.978-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Talk is cheap.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-7823342363532436479?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/7823342363532436479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=7823342363532436479' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/7823342363532436479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/7823342363532436479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/05/talk-is-cheap.html' title=''/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-8010951575857195122</id><published>2008-05-16T15:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T15:46:30.224-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GoOd DaY</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;So you dont want to hear about my good song?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;And you dont want to hear about how I am getting on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;With all the things that I can get done&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;The sun is in the sky &amp;amp; I am by my lonesome&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;So you don't want to hear about my good day?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;You have better things to do (than hear me say)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201110711623711618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SC4OorPPe4I/AAAAAAAAACs/FNEpqj3GzuU/s400/lonely.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-8010951575857195122?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/8010951575857195122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=8010951575857195122' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/8010951575857195122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/8010951575857195122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/05/good-day.html' title='GoOd DaY'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SC4OorPPe4I/AAAAAAAAACs/FNEpqj3GzuU/s72-c/lonely.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-2282632453142882309</id><published>2008-05-11T04:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T05:35:40.347-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trust and lack thereof.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Trust in me,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Just in me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Shut your eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;And trust in me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;You can sleep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Safe and sound&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Knowing I am around&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;We all know the story in the Jungle Book of the snake who hypnotises Mowgli into a false sense of security and then tries to eat him. The world is full of snakes who we start to trust, just before they turn around and stab us in the back. Sometimes these people probably don't even realise what they're doing. I'm sure the people in the story I'm about to tell you don't even remember what happened, and if they're minds did wander to it for just a second, they'd probably assume that I'd forgotten too. However, I'm the kind of person who finds it hard to forget when I've been knifed in the back. Let's begin:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;The Scene: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;A secondary school.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;The time Period: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;A couple of weeks before the Summer holidays.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;The Characters: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;A group of friends. Main four characters are; &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Blonde #1&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Blonde #2&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;DarkBrown&lt;/span&gt;. Other characters in the group will be collectively referred to as R&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;n&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;b&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;w&lt;/span&gt; . Small reference to another member of &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;R&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;n&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;b&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;w&lt;/span&gt; who will be referred to as &lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;LightBrown&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;Let the Show begin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Blonde #1&lt;/span&gt; was very upset. &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Blonde #2&lt;/span&gt; always made jokes about her weight in front of her. &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Blonde #2&lt;/span&gt; didn't mean these in a serious way, but her humour was getting &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Blonde #1&lt;/span&gt; very down. &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Blonde #1&lt;/span&gt; had been friends with &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt; since primary school, so she asked &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt; to speak to &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Blonde #2&lt;/span&gt; and ask her nicely to stop making jokes about &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Blonde #1's&lt;/span&gt; weight, as it was upsetting her. So, as &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt; could see how this was making &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Blonde #1 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;feel&lt;/span&gt;, she agreed to speak to &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Blonde #2&lt;/span&gt; the next time the jokes came up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;When this happened, &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Blonde #2&lt;/span&gt; accused &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red &lt;/span&gt;of taking it too seriously and insisted that it was just a joke. &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red &lt;/span&gt;told &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Blonde #2&lt;/span&gt; that she understood this, but felt that it wasn't very good for &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Blonde #1'&lt;/span&gt;s self-esteem and besides, &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Blonde #1&lt;/span&gt; had asked her herself. &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Blonde #2&lt;/span&gt; got very angry with &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt; and told her that she was being stupid. &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Blonde #2&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt; had a 'falling-out' and could barely stand to be in the same room (which is interesting because before hand, &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Blonde #2&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt; got on very well). However, this didn't stay just between &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Blonde #2&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;R&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;a&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;n&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;b&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;w&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;decided&lt;/span&gt; to take &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Blonde #2's&lt;/span&gt; side, even though &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt; was just trying to stick up for a friend. Funnily enough, &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;R&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;n&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;b&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;w&lt;/span&gt; included &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Blonde #1&lt;/span&gt;, even though it was her fault that &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt; got excluded in the first place and &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt; had been trying to help her out. The only one of &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;R&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;n&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;b&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;w&lt;/span&gt; who was still speaking to &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt; was &lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;DarkBrown&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;DarkBrown&lt;/span&gt; understood what &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt; had been trying to do and stood by her, like all friends should. However, &lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;DarkBrown&lt;/span&gt; was going on holiday just before Summer, and therefore wouldn't be with &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red &lt;/span&gt;for the last 2 weeks of school. Those last 2 weeks where some of the loneliest in &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red's&lt;/span&gt; life. All of &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;R&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;n&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;b&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;w&lt;/span&gt; (including &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Blonde #1&lt;/span&gt;) was ignoring her and for those 2 weeks, &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt; hardly spoke at all. Just before the beginning of the Summer holidays, something happened to make all of &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;R&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;n&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;b&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;w&lt;/span&gt; (grudgingly) start speaking to &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt; again. There was a prize giving assembly and &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt; won an award for Art. Instead of congratulating her, &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;R&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;n&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;b&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;w&lt;/span&gt; approached &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt; and said "We all thought that &lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;LightBrown&lt;/span&gt; should have won the prize for Art." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;But at least they started speaking again, right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt; never got an apology from anyone in R&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;n&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;b&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;w&lt;/span&gt;. Not even from &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Blonde #1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;Obviously this isn't the only incident where I've had my trust broken. I've been cheated on twice, once where my b/f cheated on me with my best friend. I trusted her more than anyone else and she wasn't even the one to tell me that they were going out, another friend did that for her. I didn't get an apology from her either. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I hope that all of 'R&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;n&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;b&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;w&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;'&lt;/span&gt; read this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Here's to all those people who think it's alright to betray the trust of others. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Kampai.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-2282632453142882309?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/2282632453142882309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=2282632453142882309' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/2282632453142882309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/2282632453142882309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/05/trust-and-lack-thereof.html' title='Trust and lack thereof.'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-1567235112271014053</id><published>2008-05-06T14:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T16:06:52.270-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='belly dance belldance bellydancer belly dancer props history bellydancing'/><title type='text'>Bellydancing 101</title><content type='html'>As anyone who reads this blog knows (I'm assuming it's just friends), I bellydance...Well, duh. Anywho, I thought I'd share some info about it, as there are many misconceptions about bellydance; this is more than just shaking our bums. I'll go through a few misconceptions first, then see what else I can come up with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, Bellydancing 101;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1)&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Belly dancers are stippers&lt;/span&gt;...No, we are &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;NOT&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; strippers. We do not take our clothes off when we dance. Bellydancers can dance better than any stripper with all our clothes &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;on&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, thank you very much. The reason the majority of costumes are made up of a bra and skirt/trouser combo is because if you're doing a bellyroll (contracting different muscles of the stomach at different times to give a wave effect), no one is going to see it very well if you have something covering your tummy! Which brings me to my next point;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2) &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;You have t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDdrQgfCLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/HUv49q3RS90/s1600-h/baladi+dress.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197397705220884658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDdrQgfCLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/HUv49q3RS90/s200/baladi+dress.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;o show your belly&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;em&gt; Lies! Lies and slander!&lt;/em&gt; Lots of costumes &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; have the stomach covered. In caberet/Egyptian, you can wear elaborate skin tight dresses which flare out at the knee; in the style Baladi, it's traditional to wear a loose dress with a hip scarf holding it tight against your hips; if you find any paintings of older styles of costumes, you'll see that the costume consists of either a turkish vest, harem pants, a hip scarf and a see-through, loose dress kind of thing underneath, or the same as above but with an overcoat instead of a turkish vest. I've been going to classes &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDd6AgfCMI/AAAAAAAAAA0/jF8KWcidgww/s1600-h/bellydance+costume.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197397958623955138" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDd6AgfCMI/AAAAAAAAAA0/jF8KWcidgww/s200/bellydance+costume.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;for about a year, and we've never had to show our stomachs in class, unless of course we're showing/being shown how to do a bellyroll, as I have 'volunteered' to do a couple of times. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3) &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;We all have lovely slim figures&lt;/span&gt;. Ha! Bellydancers come in all shapes and sizes. There's no such thing as a perfect shape anyway. The famous Tribal-fusion Bellydancer who made me want to start Ame&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDeswgfCNI/AAAAAAAAAA8/nuAN0Vx4Wv8/s1600-h/rachel+brice.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197398830502316242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDeswgfCNI/AAAAAAAAAA8/nuAN0Vx4Wv8/s200/rachel+brice.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;rican Tribal Style and Tribal-fusion myself (Rachel Brice), said herself that she was inspired by a large bellydancer. In fact, in bellydancing, the curvyer you are, the easier it is! If you're shimmying (bending and straightening your knees to create a piston-type effect, pushing your hips up and down, one after the other) it's soooo much easier if you have more meat on your bones, 'cos there's less work to do! Your fat does the majority of the shaking for you! It's great. See? There is a reason for it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4)&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Only women can bellydance&lt;/span&gt;. Bull, lol. At one point in history, women were banned from bellydancing. So, men dressed up as women and performed instead! If you look on youtu&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDfQQgfCPI/AAAAAAAAABM/7Bd9iFzybo4/s1600-h/male+belly+dancer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197399440387672306" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDfQQgfCPI/AAAAAAAAABM/7Bd9iFzybo4/s200/male+belly+dancer.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;be, you can find loads of videos of male bellydancers. In the caberat/Egyptian style, it may come off a little...camp, but it's still fantastic to watch, a male tribal bellydancers are also very popular. It's traditional a female thing, but this doesn't mean that men can't do it too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5)&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Bellydancing was created to entertain men&lt;/span&gt;. Again, this is crap. It was actually a rite of passage. Women learned to bellydance from their mothers and other female relatives starting from a very young age. The original point of bellydancing was to ease the pains of childbirth, as the movements with the hips increase bloodflow into the pelvic area (I sound like a textbook &gt;.&lt;). Bellydancing was by women, for women. It was not to entertain men, and the majority of bellydancers will not dance for a male only audience (goes back to the whole stripper thing). I see nothing wrong with practicing some moves in front of friends (I have practiced in front of a male friend once for opinions), but I wouldn't do a male-only performance (unless we were married and I got something in return ;) heh heh heh :P). Related to this, is the taboo surrounding the word 'Harem'. In our western culture, a Harem was where a Sultans concubines were, lounging around and and existing purely to entertain him. Harem actually means 'Forbidden place' (coming from a Turkish/Arabic word) and it was the part of the house where only women and men of the family were allowed to go. This was to protect the women from strange men. Although I don't entrily agree with that kind of thing either, it was &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; a place where women hung around, half-naked all for one man, &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;ok?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's pretty much all I can think of on the misconceptions front, but I'm sure there will be more! Lets talk &lt;em&gt;props&lt;/em&gt; bitches!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1)&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Veil&lt;/span&gt;- Not something you wear round your face. A veil is a large piece of material that we swing around and make dances look more elaborate and purdy. Lots of fun!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2)&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Zills&lt;/span&gt;- or&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDfuQgfCRI/AAAAAAAAABc/6giLe8pXt3k/s1600-h/zills.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197399955783747858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDfuQgfCRI/AAAAAAAAABc/6giLe8pXt3k/s200/zills.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; finger-cymbals. Complicated to use, you have to practice while you move, otherwise when you try dancing with them, you'll just get confused. Basic rythmn is rightleftright rightleftright rightleftright etc etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3)&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Canes&lt;/span&gt;- Traditional with the baladi style, originally making fun of a mens dance, which u&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDf6AgfCSI/AAAAAAAAABk/u8yEArznzW4/s1600-h/cane.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197400157647210786" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDf6AgfCSI/AAAAAAAAABk/u8yEArznzW4/s200/cane.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;sed large sticks and simulated fighting. Canes get swung around, hit on the floor and balanced on various places. Fun! ^_^&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4)&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Swords&lt;/span&gt;- &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDgIAgfCTI/AAAAAAAAABs/ybVRgqJv8Ms/s1600-h/sword.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197400398165379378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDgIAgfCTI/AAAAAAAAABs/ybVRgqJv8Ms/s200/sword.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;These are specially balanced and blunt for dancing. Seriously, you'd have to be very good/crazy to dance with a sharp sword. These don't really get thrown around, like canes, but they are used mainly in balance. They look amazing!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;5)&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Wings of Isis&lt;/span&gt;- although they have a very posh sounding name, these aren't traditional &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDgYggfCUI/AAAAAAAAAB0/68mcCmvnDis/s1600-h/wings+of+isis.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197400681633220930" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDgYggfCUI/AAAAAAAAAB0/68mcCmvnDis/s200/wings+of+isis.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;bellydance props like the four above. Mainly used in cabaret/Egyptian, but there's a video of a girl on youtube doing a Tribal-Fusion dance with these!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;6)&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Fans&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDgmwgfCVI/AAAAAAAAAB8/nRloY9Ux0Vo/s1600-h/fan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197400926446356818" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDgmwgfCVI/AAAAAAAAAB8/nRloY9Ux0Vo/s200/fan.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;- Going more into Fusion bellydance now, these can look really spectacular, especially if in Tribal and they're all &lt;em&gt;snapped&lt;/em&gt; out the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7)&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Fan Veils&lt;/span&gt;- I love these! I have two! They are baisically bamboo fans with silk attached and look amazing open or closed! Again, the&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDgzAgfCWI/AAAAAAAAACE/6-UMOVbjdQU/s1600-h/fan+veil.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197401136899754338" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDgzAgfCWI/AAAAAAAAACE/6-UMOVbjdQU/s200/fan+veil.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;se are mainly used in tribal-fusion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8)&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Tray of candles&lt;/span&gt;- Another balancing act! Best to practice whilst they &lt;em&gt;aren't &lt;/em&gt;lit so that you can get th&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDhHggfCXI/AAAAAAAAACM/kQZeDzi8X7k/s1600-h/tray+of+candles.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197401489087072626" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDhHggfCXI/AAAAAAAAACM/kQZeDzi8X7k/s200/tray+of+candles.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;e position of the candles right to balance with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDhWAgfCYI/AAAAAAAAACU/xpBFnPZQaBM/s1600-h/fire+fan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197401738195175810" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDhWAgfCYI/AAAAAAAAACU/xpBFnPZQaBM/s200/fire+fan.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9)&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Fire fans, Poi etc&lt;/span&gt;- Woo! Pyromania! These can be used like fans in bellydance, they're just something a bit different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;So, there's a little insight on bellydancing! an amazing way to keep fit, make new friends and just generally feel good about yourself. I'd recomend it to anyone!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197402232116414882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDhywgfCaI/AAAAAAAAACk/HDZXFIaoC90/s400/solo13.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-1567235112271014053?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/1567235112271014053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=1567235112271014053' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/1567235112271014053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/1567235112271014053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/05/bellydancing-101.html' title='Bellydancing 101'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SCDdrQgfCLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/HUv49q3RS90/s72-c/baladi+dress.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-3452192663265957405</id><published>2008-04-30T13:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T13:58:55.484-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love me, That's all I ask of you</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Sometimes, I wish I could read minds. I wish I could see how people are feeling, so that I could act accordingly. I don't want to do anything which I think may give people a negative feeling, especially about me. Some people, I just don't care. But others, especially my friends, I'm always worried about what I do incase I do something 'wrong'. I know that's backwards; I shouldn't worry how my friends react, because, in the end, they love me anyway...don't they? I was talking to Marina and Freddie in the Bean the other day, and (I don't remember how) but we were talking about hugs. I explained that I didn't like to be the one to initiate hugs or physical contact. This isn't 'cos I don't like it; quite the opposite, but I'm always worried about how whoever I'm hugging will r&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SBjdGggfCKI/AAAAAAAAAAc/pDnLi6IlMow/s1600-h/Hug_by_WhiteWeasel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195145274047006882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SBjdGggfCKI/AAAAAAAAAAc/pDnLi6IlMow/s200/Hug_by_WhiteWeasel.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;eact. Are they in the mood for a hug? Do they really need one right now? What if they don't like it? What if they think I'n strange? Maybe, they don't want to be touched right now? I've tried hugging people before, and they've pulled away from me, or looked at me strangly. I've been called clingy before too. Sometimes, I just feel so happy or so upset or so relaxed that I just want to feel close to another human being. I wish I had the confidence to just go up to someone I want to hug, and go for it! But, I can't. Here's some facts I found about hugs:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SBjcrQgfCJI/AAAAAAAAAAU/5urFlEP_L-M/s1600-h/hug__by_Defies.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195144805895571602" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SBjcrQgfCJI/AAAAAAAAAAU/5urFlEP_L-M/s200/hug__by_Defies.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Every human being needs four hugs per day merely to survive. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Eight hugs per day to maintain oneself at a strong emotional level. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Twelve hugs per day to grow and become a better person.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Four hugs to survive? Am I dead? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;On a (reeeaaally random) side note, here's a personality test I came across :D Generally, it's all pretty true, though I don't know about the whole 'forceful' thing :S And am I well-respected?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Your personality type:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Quietly forceful &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(erm I don't think so ^_^),&lt;/span&gt; original and sensitive. Tend to stick to things until they are done. Extremely intuitive about people and concerned for their feelings. Well-developed value systems which they strictly adhere to. Well-respected for their perserverence in doing the right thing. Likely to be individualistic, rather than leading or following.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Careers that could fit you includes:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Counselors, clergy, missionaries, teachers, medical doctors, dentists, chiropractors, &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;psychologists&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(woo!),&lt;/span&gt; psychiatrists, writers, musicians, artists, psychics, photographers, child care workers, education consultants, librarians &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(haha!&lt;/span&gt;), marketeers, scientists, social workers. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;(Pictures here ARE NOT MINE! They belong to various artists on deviantart)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-3452192663265957405?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/3452192663265957405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=3452192663265957405' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/3452192663265957405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/3452192663265957405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/04/love-me-thats-all-i-ask-of-you.html' title='Love me, That&apos;s all I ask of you'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/SBjdGggfCKI/AAAAAAAAAAc/pDnLi6IlMow/s72-c/Hug_by_WhiteWeasel.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-8894020023451693310</id><published>2008-04-02T13:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T13:53:09.201-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When life hands you a lemon, throw it back and yell "I ordered a milkshake!"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;In life, what you ask for/expect is rarely what you're given. You have a nice little plan of how you'd like something to turn out and then &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;BANG!&lt;/span&gt; It doesn't work like that. Similarly, your could be hoping for somethings and then &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Oh! Look at that!&lt;/span&gt; It's actually going your way. So what's the problem? Well, you're having doubts now. I'm in my last few months as an A-level student and in sept/oct I'll be going to university. I've gotten into my first two choices (providing I get the grades) and I loved both of them when I went to visit. I'm going to do 3 years basic psychology, then hopefully another 3 years to become a doctor of clinical psychology. Here's the thing; I'm just not sure anymore. I have a friend who is going to study music technology. This girl &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;LIVES &lt;/span&gt;for her music lessons. She's in a band, she's gonna have her own single out soon. She's just so passionate about it and she's so good at it! I wish I was as passionate and good at something as she is. Like, I'd love to do something really creative. Example; I like to draw, I can draw doodles nd little designs etc etc stuff like that, but I'm nothing special. It's good but not good. Also, writing. I have so many little stories in my head (I'm an escape-fantasist- I zone out a lot at inappropriet times), but when I try to write, it just sounds terrible. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Really.&lt;/span&gt; Have you ever had the urge to like pack every thing you've planned in and do something completely random? &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/R_Pu72rsb_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/gppVP1Hv6us/s1600-h/Giant-Cupcake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184750308092047346" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/R_Pu72rsb_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/gppVP1Hv6us/s200/Giant-Cupcake.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Well, at the moment, I'm really into making cakes and cookies. And I'm good at it! I can time perfectly how long cupcakes should be in so that they're not hard, but not undercooked. I'm really experimental with icings and flavourings (I invented turkish-delight and chocolate cupcakes, with some help from a friend last year when we made a big turkish-delight cake). I made chocolate chip cookies today from a little instant pack thing from the shop. I thought it said add two 'tablespoons' of water to the mix. Added the water, read the box again after; it said 'teaspoons'. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Fuck&lt;/span&gt;. I can invent my own cupcakes and they come out great. Give me and instant box and I botch it up! Thing is though, after adding a little flour to try to even it out and putting them in to bake, they &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;still&lt;/span&gt; came out perfectly! I screw up big time and it still works! But, I digress. My point is I just don't know if I should do psychology for good. I want to do something creative. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;W&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;hat the fuck am I doing?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-8894020023451693310?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/8894020023451693310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=8894020023451693310' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/8894020023451693310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/8894020023451693310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2008/04/when-life-hands-you-lemon-throw-it-back.html' title='When life hands you a lemon, throw it back and yell &quot;I ordered a milkshake!&quot;'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JdstMZErLNQ/R_Pu72rsb_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/gppVP1Hv6us/s72-c/Giant-Cupcake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-577582265964989032</id><published>2007-10-20T14:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-20T15:48:55.070-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Time Flying</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;I had a really strange experience today. I was talking with a woman I work with about age. She was saying that the little children that come into my work (Jersey Library) see me as an adult, as they're too young to understand the kind of in-between that a teenager is. So yeh, they'd see me like they'd see other 'grown-ups'. This isn't the strange part, the strange part came a few hours later, and tied in well with the subject of age and time etc. A girl came into the library, and a few years ago I was really good friends with her. We went to a christian youth group together and I became good friends with her and some other of the girls who went. We wern't the same age, they were all about 4-5 years older than me, but because we were together so much, so similar etc it just 'felt' like we were the same. So anyway, she came in today and asked me what I was up to. I just said, you know, last year of school, uni next year, you? And she said, did you see the guy i came in with? We're getting married next year. Now, this completly threw me. It was as if a girl in my year at school was telling me this. It was honestly the weirdest thing I've ever felt. Of course I knew she was older than me, but I just 'saw' her as my age (even though she's finished uni now, and I know that), as a teenager, just as those small children in my work 'saw' me as an adult. I've been trying to work out how I felt about this encounter and I've come to the conclusion that I'm actually very sad about it. I've missed out on years of a past friends life, someone I desperatly wish I had kept in more contact. This was a reminder to me that, actually, we don't have 'all the time in the world'. We move, we grow up, we grow old and we die. It goes so quick and I'm not ready for it to go so quickly. I don't want to be reminded so much of my own mortality.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Time flies on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-577582265964989032?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/577582265964989032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=577582265964989032' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/577582265964989032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/577582265964989032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2007/10/time-flying.html' title='Time Flying'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4009649685486713746.post-3070875494560154988</id><published>2007-10-17T13:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T13:58:23.763-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lunchtime randomness'/><title type='text'>Lunchtimes! yay!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Bench-hopping!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Today was a very surreal lunchtime. After getting some chocolate from a local shop, me, marina, freddie and tori (soon to be joined by claire and chloe) sat down on a group of three benches. While we were talking about...what 17-18 year olds talk about...you know, normal stuff, not bout what we do with our boyfriends &lt;strong&gt;AT ALL!!&lt;/strong&gt; .../ahem anyway...but yeh then a lil group of year 9's decided to join us :S (We, of course, had to stop our previous conversation so as not to scar their innocent little minds) They decided to talk about the very interesting subject of what they were going to do on the weekend /snore, whilst sniggering ofc :P ('what is you sniggering at young man? i bet i got it right.' eh alex? :P) After my friends and I had looked around at each other with that look of 'Quoi?', we decided to join in their little conversation :D to be sociable nd all that crap. This, however, seemed to confuse the poor little things, and they hopped off to a nearby cluster of benches. However, we had just started getting into this convo, and so decided to join them to continue it!! :D this succeded for a few mintues before our dear bench-hoppers decided to leave us again :( This, however, leads onto the next chapter in this exciting lunchtime!! (Ready? queue the drum roll...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Adventure!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;So, after our terribly interesting conversation with a bunch of year 9's about what we were doing this weekend, freddie, marina and I decided to go for a little wonder around the old cross-country route :D So, after the boring start (walking on gravel past two 4x4's), we came across the old path(!), now all overgrown and muddy (mmm nice). So, after walking (marina and freddie walking, me being dragged:P) past lots of bugs, holly bushes, mud and a random wall we'd never seen before with a big fluffy dog and random woman on the other side :S we reached the end of our off-road track and found...&lt;strong&gt;The Primary School!!! &lt;/strong&gt;So, after climbing up the grassy slope in a really subtle, in-cognito kinda way /cough, we made our way back to the 6th form common room for a rest after all that adventure!! Tuh! What a lunchtime!! :O&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4009649685486713746-3070875494560154988?l=littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/feeds/3070875494560154988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4009649685486713746&amp;postID=3070875494560154988' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/3070875494560154988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4009649685486713746/posts/default/3070875494560154988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littleredbellydancer.blogspot.com/2007/10/lunchtimes-yay.html' title='Lunchtimes! yay!'/><author><name>Little Red Belly Dancer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07178993044406492261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
