<?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-3559322141203907167</id><updated>2012-02-16T10:53:18.342-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fickle's Voice</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ficklesvoice.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3559322141203907167/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ficklesvoice.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>FickleJo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11872342203886233775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eRuWF0U9uSs/SOO5NrfSMjI/AAAAAAAAAAM/MgVA20lagYs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>4</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559322141203907167.post-5459602207522344141</id><published>2008-10-08T08:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T11:07:59.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Let Me Look Upon You With My Own Eyes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;We've recently upgraded to a 52" LCD with HD cable and Blu-ray player.  The images are so sharp, it's really like you're in the room with the action - like you're at a play.  I found it took a bit of getting used to.  Things are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;too&lt;/span&gt; real.  The surroundings &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;look&lt;/span&gt; like sets not real buildings.  Actors I think are hot aren't as young-looking or flawless as I thought they were.  Even gorgeous actresses, whose beauty I envied, have fallen off their pedestals.   Yup, it's official, my rose-colored glasses have been removed.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Initially, I was disgusted.  "HD has ruined my life!!!"  Now, I'm humbled.  I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;like&lt;/span&gt; seeing freckles, moles, wrinkles, face-divots, scars and cellulite - especially cellulite - on celebrities.   In fact, HD is so much like being there that some shows are now down right scary!   We flicked on Boston Legal in HD the other night and let me tell you my friends, it's doesn't get any more real than that.  This show is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;full&lt;/span&gt; of old fuckers and it isn't pretty!  Good thing it's funny as hell.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Movie make-up is good at enhancing features but it still can't completely hide the real person.  I like that.  I like knowing that with or without make-up, these people could look like my boss or my next-door neighbour .  I like knowing that with make-up on tv, my face could look like one of them.  Oh sure, those of you who live in "Hollywood Land" and other such places have reached this conclusion &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;years&lt;/span&gt; ago.  Don't get me wrong, I know they're real people but surreality can occur for a small town gal like myself who has little chance of seeing stars on a trip to the store.  It &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;can&lt;/span&gt; be a big deal.  You're sitting there thinking, "What about photos in magazines?  Those are really clear you nit-wit."  Photos can be doctored, even more-so today, a wrinkle removed here, a mole or zit removed there.  Nevermind the botox factor.  I just don't trust celebrity photos and I don't buy or read magazines (although admittedly since joining VFTW, I read about and see a lot more photos of celebrities than normal).  Regardless, my point is - my view of the world has been skewed yet again, this time because of the reality of HDtv.  It's also changed how I view &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;myself&lt;/span&gt; - and in case you're wondering, that's a good thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3559322141203907167-5459602207522344141?l=ficklesvoice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ficklesvoice.blogspot.com/feeds/5459602207522344141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3559322141203907167&amp;postID=5459602207522344141' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3559322141203907167/posts/default/5459602207522344141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3559322141203907167/posts/default/5459602207522344141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ficklesvoice.blogspot.com/2008/10/let-me-look-upon-you-with-my-own-eyes.html' title='Let Me Look Upon You With My Own Eyes'/><author><name>FickleJo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11872342203886233775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eRuWF0U9uSs/SOO5NrfSMjI/AAAAAAAAAAM/MgVA20lagYs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559322141203907167.post-2103742290620645625</id><published>2008-10-01T07:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T08:56:53.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Chip Off  The Old Block</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;As I mentioned before, I think parenting is hard.  My oldest son is now in grade 3 and sometimes he proves to be very challenging as he likes to fib and procrastinate.  He'll say and do anything to try to get out of his responsibilities.  He likes being the martyr.  I find myself thinking "where does this come from?."  I found my answer after digging deep in my memory vaults.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was about 4 (I think?), I talked nastily back to my mother.  Her friend said to me "Don't talk to your mother like that."  I was pissed.  How dare YOU tell ME how to talk to MY mother??  The bitch.  She was leaving and I knew she'd be back later.  I went outside, turned on the garden hose and proceeded to wet down the sidewalk.  My mom stuck her head out the door and asked what I was doing.  I simply stated "Wetting the sidewalk so when Mrs. Long comes back she'll slip and break her leg."  Vindictive?  Who me?  My mom gave me a tea towel and told me to clean it up.  I remember crying while sopping up the unaffected sidewalk.  I don't remember what exactly I did after that, but I do remember explaining to my mom when asked that I got the idea from Sesame Street.  I know, you're like - WHAT?!?  Sesame Street had a character much like Mr. Noodle that I remember would be trying to use a garden hose and would be spraying water everywhere and then of course he would slip in it and break his leg.  When Mrs. Long came back and was told the drama, my mom told me she said, "I guess I deserved that!"  She also told me years later that while I was mopping up the sidewalk, she was in her room with the door closed laughing her head off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;In grade 1, I didn't like school.  I found it boring, full of rules and generally no fun.  I hated it so much!  So, at the end of recess one day, I decided that if I got 'hurt' I would get out of class for the rest of the day.  I DID get out of class, but only after I placed my left pointer finger against the brick wall and opened the heavy outer door hard enough to hit it.  My plan worked so well, I actually damaged my finger enough to lose my whole finger nail.  Damn!  Why did I do that again?  Oh yeah, I wanted out of class for the day.  Do my parents know?   I told them years later.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The more and more I think about my early childhood, the more I realize I was bossy, vindictive and oh-so dramatic.  Lucky for me, I ran into a teacher in grade 5 who I was sure hated me.  She was sarcastic - something I had never run into before - and would make fun of me and others in the class.  SHE WAS OUT TO GET ME.  I lost a lot of self-confidence that school year. My grades suffered.  It was so bad, the minute I would wake up, I'd start crying that I had to go to school.  My parents would mention it in parent/teacher interviews and get the response - "I have no problems with her."  I got through the school year, but my self-image was beaten down.  The start of the next school year, I was excited until I discovered that teacher had moved up a grade and I was in her class again that year.  I came home bawling and my parents moved me to another teachers class.  I thank them everyday for doing that.  I also thank my grade 5 teacher.  In destroying my hubristic tendencies, she took part in creating the person I am today.  &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What have I learned from this trip to the deep, dank places of my memory?  My son has a long way to go to compete with me.  I was way more creative, crafty and reckless in my attempts to get out of things I didn't want to do than he has presented thus far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have 2 other mini-mes who may out-do me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, where did I place that tried and true parenting book again?  Oh, right.  There isn't one.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3559322141203907167-2103742290620645625?l=ficklesvoice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ficklesvoice.blogspot.com/feeds/2103742290620645625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3559322141203907167&amp;postID=2103742290620645625' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3559322141203907167/posts/default/2103742290620645625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3559322141203907167/posts/default/2103742290620645625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ficklesvoice.blogspot.com/2008/10/chip-off-old-block.html' title='A Chip Off  The Old Block'/><author><name>FickleJo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11872342203886233775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eRuWF0U9uSs/SOO5NrfSMjI/AAAAAAAAAAM/MgVA20lagYs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559322141203907167.post-857539986188985366</id><published>2008-09-29T20:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T20:38:41.429-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Little Prosem</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;One of my favorite poems written on my break while writing for telephone on-hold ads. (Yeah, I know, LAME...but it paid the bills).  At least my creative juices were flowing ;)  I think it could use some more work...let me know what you think!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;AGAIN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hallowed virtues you hold not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Like arms hold heaven &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Large and lean&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Your smiles stab me in the heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Thrusting through me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So swift and clean&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And still I come&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Embrace you tight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Blind to fury&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Deaf to pain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A sincere soul you have not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You smile again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I slowly bleed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3559322141203907167-857539986188985366?l=ficklesvoice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ficklesvoice.blogspot.com/feeds/857539986188985366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3559322141203907167&amp;postID=857539986188985366' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3559322141203907167/posts/default/857539986188985366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3559322141203907167/posts/default/857539986188985366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ficklesvoice.blogspot.com/2008/09/one-of-my-favorite-poems-written-on-my.html' title='A Little Prosem'/><author><name>FickleJo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11872342203886233775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eRuWF0U9uSs/SOO5NrfSMjI/AAAAAAAAAAM/MgVA20lagYs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559322141203907167.post-5368720167386719900</id><published>2008-09-29T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T13:39:19.889-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Take me to the 21st Century</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I'm starting a blog.  I don't know much about them nor have read that many, but I want to get back into writing and figured this is a good way to get the ol' creative juices trickling (at least!).  I mostly write prose and have a commercial writing past but would really like to try my hand at a novel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;As this is my very first blog, I will divulge a little information about myself.  I am a stay at home mother of 3 boys - 8, 4 and 2.  I have a degree in radio TV arts from NAIT and have worked briefly in radio/tv/media as a copywriter/producer/announcer/traffic clerk.  I live in Alberta, Canada and most of my days consist of damage control on the homefront with quick visits throughout the day to vftw.  I think parenting is THEE hardest job in the world as it's touch and go...you never quit learning and will most definitely make mistakes in the process...but life isn't just black and white and parenting is as individual as you are.  So I'm writing my book on parenting as I go along.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I know very little when it comes to all the different forms of internet communication.  In fact, the first forum I joined was Vote For The Worst...that's right....I didn't even think about lurking...I was all like "I wanna comment on this cool site I just found" and so I jumped in without testing the waters.  Lucky for me, it wasn't all that bad and once I started looking around the site I felt this anger build up in me over media manipulation.  I knew I was in the right place and was readily welcomed when I posted my epiphany.  Now in saying I've never joined a forum before should also give you insight on how little I know about posting pics, links, chopping, internet-ese etc....so please bare with me while I slowly immerse myself into the 21st century.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I will try and write at least every other day and some posts may just be some weird random thought or prose, but please feel free to comment and thanks for reading!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3559322141203907167-5368720167386719900?l=ficklesvoice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ficklesvoice.blogspot.com/feeds/5368720167386719900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3559322141203907167&amp;postID=5368720167386719900' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3559322141203907167/posts/default/5368720167386719900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3559322141203907167/posts/default/5368720167386719900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ficklesvoice.blogspot.com/2008/09/take-me-to-21st-century.html' title='Take me to the 21st Century'/><author><name>FickleJo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11872342203886233775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eRuWF0U9uSs/SOO5NrfSMjI/AAAAAAAAAAM/MgVA20lagYs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
