Music Videos that make me tear up: ...Snowbirds and Townies by Further Seems Forever.... ...Hands and Feet by Audio Adrenaline... ...Way I Feel by 12 Stones... ...Videos that just make me laugh:... ...Chick Magnet by MXPX... ...There is Only You by Smalltown Poets... ...Sleep by Riley Armstrong... (My theme song) More to come later.... Hey, Check out this site freeiPods.com Click here: http://ipods.freepay.com/?r=24979204
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Name: Aaron
Country: United States
State: Kentucky
Birthday: 6/11/1985
Gender: Male


Interests: people. I love people. If I go all day without communicating with another person, I get all emoish, and sad. Talk to me. I love to listen. I enjoy sports. I don't like to watch sports. I'd much rather be playing them. I vary between being laid back, easy going, to hyper and bouncing off the walls. I'm generally fun, spontaneous, daring. adventerous.
Expertise: Expertise? Not hardly... I get it done... I normally injure myself in the process too... especially when I'm doing electrical work... I always manage to shock myself... turn off the breaker? Why do that when I can just trip it as I'm working?
Occupation: Student
Industry: Hospitality


Message: message meEmail: email me
AIM: Aaronious03
MSN: hapbladin2003@hotmail.com
ICQ: 148992090
AIM: kypanamaboy


Member Since: 5/30/2003

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Friday, June 30, 2006

My apology, My proclemation...

This is my apology.
My greeting and my farewell.
To those I've unintentionally wronged, I'm truly sincerely sorry.
I wouldn't hurt you for the world.
To those I've deliberately wronged, I'm unapologetic. You probably deserved it, and I've no regrets.
To those I've left behind, I realize that I'm not the best (I'm probably the worst) at keeping in touch. For that, I'm sorry,
I truly do miss you, but I don't know how to re-establish lost ties.
I'm rather afraid to, to give you the sad honest truth.
To those I've yet to meet, I truly anticipate our introduction.
To loves and lovers, I left you wrong.
I know this.
My heartfelt desire is that we could be friends (rather than acquaintances) again.
Because that is what endeared you to me in the first place.
A true friend makes the greatest lover.
I believe that.
To my family (my true family,) I love you with all my heart.
I would die rather than see you suffer pain.
To those I've loved, know this, I loved (and still love) you with all of me.
My possessions are yours for the taking.
If you know this or not, you could take advantage of me.
But I know that you won't.
If I've not seen you in a month, or 5 years, know that you're still dear to my heart.
Most of you don't realize how much you mean to me.
That is my fault.
I apologize.
But know that if I've told you I love you, I meant it.
Whether that be as a lover, a sister, or a brother.
I meant it.
If you care to call me a friend, and know that I call you one in return, this is meant for you.
May the wind always be at your back, may the odds always be in your favor, may God smile at the mention of your name, and may good find its' way to your side all the days of your life.
My dear friends,
I love you all.


Irresponsible. Inconsiderate. Self-absorbed.
But loving.
Aaron

"I would rather regret those things I've done, than regret those things I've not."


Saturday, May 20, 2006

Her.

So here I am yet again.

She stuns me with her striking eyes,
At once sparkling with a festive spirit,
and heavy with the weight of life.
Her sweet smile encourages my own,
when it's lost I work hard to resurface that engaging grin.
Her laugh as infectious as a raging disease...
Striking down all that seek to spread sorrow and dismay.
Her zest for life, for love, for friends,
it resonates to the core of who I am.
Rekindling what has been hidden by toil and stress.
Honesty and and joy emanate from her.
Abstract terms, but perceptible, nearly palpable,
to anyone with an eye for life.
Is she merely an ideal?
Is it possible that she's as real as she appears?
Have I simply concocted a fantasy of what I desire and projected it onto yet another innocent?

I hope not.
Because I'm smitten.
(Yet) Again.
Currently Listening
Move Along
By The All-American Rejects
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Monday, May 01, 2006

The Bane of a Server's Existence

So I've realized something...
One way I manage to stay very cheerful and upbeat despite all the stuff that happens is I, for lack of a better word, expel the bad through writing, kind of get it off my chest so to speak...
So in the interest of keeping my spirits high...

Sunday.
A day of rest.
Relaxation.
Church for some people.
Or, if you're in the waiting-tables business...
The bane of your existence.
Friday night is date night.
Saturday is travel day/just chilling.
Saturday night is date night or going-out-with-friends.
Sunday...
Sunday is horrid.
Terrible.
No good.
Very bad.
It's a well known fact in the servers world.
Fresh out of church, people seem to have exhausted their reserves of kidness, goodness, and gentleness.
They've already tithed their 10% to the church coffers, so they don't have any extra.
After the 10% tithe, the sodas, the well-done ribeye steak (that they send back 3 times because it's not "just right"), the gas money, and the fake smiles...
They just don't have any money left over to leave a decent (10% at the bare minimum!) tip.
So they supplement with a tract.
If you're lucky, it'll be one of the ones that looks like a $20 bill laying on the table.
It will get your hopes up, give you faith in the average church-goer again.
Only to grind that goodwill into the poorly swept carpets as you realize that it's just a cheap trick.
I know very very few servers who actually go to church.
If you wonder why, try waiting tables on a sunday morning/afternoon.
I don't blame them in the least.
Not in the least.
I don't know why anyone would want to put themselves through that.

So that's what it's come down to.
You put forth a terrible example of the love you espouse.
You cheat the person serving you of the wages they're working for.
And to top it off, you attempt to trick them into learning a bit more of your religion by taking the cowards way out and leaving a track that looks like money.
But really, who can blame you?
I'm sure it's hard to speak to another of love, after you've treated them with such...
Disdain.
Such...
Derision.
Arrogance.
Indifference.

Is it not sad that the only way you feel you can share a central aspect of your existence with another, is by decieving them into picking up what they believe is money, only to short them with a worthless piece of paper?

Currently Listening
Feels Like Home
By Norah Jones
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Sunday, April 16, 2006

So a quick recap of the past semester...

Moved into dorm. good.
Motorcycle breaks down. bad.
Girl trouble. bad.
Get motorcycle fixed. good.
In process, motorcycle goes through friend's truck's rear window. bad.
Get pulled over on motorcycle. bad.
Get six citations. bad.
Motorcycle impounded. bad.
Get motorcycle back. good.
Citations dropped. Good.
Get job. good.
Fed-Ex truck backs over motorcycle. bad.
Great-uncle dies. bad.
Girl trouble. bad.
Friend on campus dies. bad.
Lose wallet containing drivers license, school id, credit card, debit card, social security card, and $350 in cash. bad.
Doing poorly in class. bad.

+5 goods.
-12 bads.
------------
-7. Bad.
+ X  (X= Good outlook + Loving family and friends)
------------
Good.


Monday, March 27, 2006

I am.

I am a $1 bill. I float from finger to finger. I am currency for your strawberry limeade, for your pack of gum. I help you get that nicotine, I help you carry your alcohol addiction. I get you high right before I enter the coffers of your chosen religion.

I am a lovers heart. I carry the life-force through your veins. Beating slowly now, as you meander along, I quicken as you spot your lovers smile. I feel a lovers hand in your own through the pounding of my being as it quickly builds to a thundering crescendo, then slows as she walks away...

I am a carbon ash, floating from the end of that burning square. I dance on the winds of everyone's breath but my own, slowly drawn to the earth from which I came. I settle to the end to begin again.

I am graphite. I contribute to the famed authors' life work. I am the piece of history projected from an unknown artists' tender soul onto the eagerly anticipating canvas which I will soon be. I am the bored students mind(full)less wanderings, doodling the random images which come to mind. Naught but scribbles and pieces to others, but to the mind that controls the hand that holds the pencil that contains myself, I'm their world.

I am information flowing through the veins of the banking supercomputer. I am uncaring, unknowing. To me you're naught but another number. To me you're naught but one more figure in this endless stream of decimating reports. To me, you're nothing.

I am who. What. When. Where. How. Why.
I am.



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