<?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-5845681102712066721</id><updated>2012-02-05T04:41:21.086-08:00</updated><category term='lessons'/><category term='filming adventures'/><title type='text'>Quas's Blogger</title><subtitle type='html'>Hi and welcome to my blog.  I dont know what the word blog means but I suspect its pretty neat.  Enjoy my words.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>48</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-3749844431851261530</id><published>2012-02-05T04:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-05T04:41:21.097-08:00</updated><title type='text'>That awkward moment when...</title><content type='html'>you realize no one cares to be around you. Actually should be called : That painful moment when you realize this is the 13th consecutive saturday evening you have spent alone, with your dog. Whom, is good company, but is jut not a human being. &lt;br /&gt;I thought of posting, and probably will, that I will be home every night this week, and anyone is invited to come over and hang... just to see if anyone actually would.&lt;br /&gt;Problem is, everyone is dating someone, or is married and has kids. So, when it comes to hanging out, I know no one. And the film people around here still haven't taken a liking to me, enough to actually invite me to do anything. But I suspect that will always be the case... because hey... I am that guy.&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately I have always been that guy that gets left out of the social scene, so I have to include myself on a regular basis. I mostly feel like I am harassing people to hang out with me, because Im persistent, and Im ALWAYS doing it. It still continues on to this day. but now I don't know who to ask to hang anymore, because everyone has someone significant to hang out with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thats probably why I have acquired a dog. Though Zoey has been very needy and annoying lately, I have had frustrations with her. I sometimes wish she would go away so I can have my freedom again. I feel like she is there, and I am obligated to take care of her for the rest of her life/my life, and can't go and live my dream because I have to stay within 1 hr of home, in order to take care of her.&lt;br /&gt;She's a social pariah as well. Misunderstood, and has a hard time playing with others.&lt;br /&gt;Today at the dog park, I heard some fat guy say "That dog shouldn't be here" and he was talking about Zoey. She barks at other dogs when they come on too strong, and she snaps at them. Fat turd face ass didn't like Zoey making his dog her bitch I guess. I wanted to follow him to a fast food restaurant, and as soon as he ordered, interrupt "You shouldn't be here." I'd whisper it too. I also wanted to yell at him but there were way too many people at the park and I didn't want the embarrassment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zoey's a good dog. She deserves better than I can give her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a date cancel on me yesterday. Someone from POF.com. I was really looking forward to it too, but maybe its for the best she cancelled. I probably did something to deserve it. She had 2 kids and an x husband so it probably wouldn't work out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do desire a spouse by the end of the year. I wish to find someone that is interesting, witty, smart, and independent. Someone who wants to share life experiences together, be a partner in crime and in the arts.&lt;br /&gt;Basically I feel like nothing is going on this year, in business, in personal life, in church, in dating, in the arts, and I am really really frustrated with it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am frustrated ALL the time in many different ways. I am BORED. I am POORER than poor. I am LONELY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and its probably all my fault.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-3749844431851261530?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/3749844431851261530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=3749844431851261530' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/3749844431851261530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/3749844431851261530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2012/02/that-awkward-moment-when.html' title='That awkward moment when...'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-1111984395809688115</id><published>2012-01-01T03:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-01T03:20:10.956-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Years Again?!</title><content type='html'>What? Another year gone. Just kaboom its gone.&lt;br /&gt;Little updates, I made 3 Sizzler commercials this year.&lt;br /&gt;1 funded short film.&lt;br /&gt;Acted as a lead in a musical, got a bit part in my first feature film as a Hitler Youth Leader, cast in a mocumentary and am quoted to improvised a line "you're soft... like taxidermy" and now the phrase has spun in to a beauty supply line,&lt;br /&gt;finished 23 of 50 real estate videos, plus like 40 videos for work, worked as a camera operator for a reality show for 4 episodes then they made up a lie and dumped me, Edited one of those episodes, but it never aired,&lt;br /&gt;Made 6 youtube videos and a trailer, had a read through of my feature length screenplay, found someone who could potentially be a producer for it... (fingers crossed), Got cast in a Hale show but dumped it cause its way too much time and not worth my time, got cast in a web series, did one episode with more on the way, wrote a short film (Zombo), writing a web series tentatively called Prohibit, started doing improv again and man I struggled in October/November... played with my dog every day except while I went to Seattle for some space needle action,&lt;br /&gt;Watch 4 seasons of Jersey Shore&lt;br /&gt;2 seasons of pawn stars&lt;br /&gt;7 seasons of The Ultimate Fighter&lt;br /&gt;2 seasons of Hung&lt;br /&gt;All 5 seasons of Weeds&lt;br /&gt;all existing episodes of Californication&lt;br /&gt;all existing of Breaking Bad, Game of Thrones, Boardwalk Empire, Dexter season 5 and 6, All modern Family episodes, season 2 of The Bachelor Pad, 1 1/2 seasons of The Walking Dead, 2 of the Vampire Diaries, All 5 seasons of Friday Night Lights, and a couple of movies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No I don't have a girlfriend...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also tried to go to the gym 6 days a week, tried to read Hunger Games, Dragonlance Chronicles The Legend of Huma, 3 film books... thats about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I moved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zoey was only at the vet once, she had a bacteria infection in her digestive track. She is now happy, healthy, smart, incredibly fast and she is my world. I would break if she were not with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else... hmmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met a woman that I doubt I will ever get to see again. I am probably just very fond of the idea of here, &amp;nbsp; but it would be nice to at least go on a date with her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I didn't go on one date this year. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did turn 31 and got kicked out of the young singles ward. I now go to the reject pile 31-45.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for Christmas I got an xbox of which I am very appreciative of.&lt;br /&gt;Aaaand I spent New Years by myself and watched a foreign film called The Wave, which is really really good, I hope you check it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Years resolutions&lt;br /&gt;Get Married&lt;br /&gt;Complete 2 shorts, 2 web series, 1 feature all of my writing.&lt;br /&gt;More Sizzler commercials, try and get a national spot with Lil Ceasars. Spot for Wing Nutz.&lt;br /&gt;Pay off half of my debt.&lt;br /&gt;Push my side business ventures with a heavy hand, otherwise they have a tendency to not get completed.&lt;br /&gt;Have a core production crew that I trust.&lt;br /&gt;Get on a specialized diet&lt;br /&gt;Lose 15-20 lbs&lt;br /&gt;Go to bed at 2am&lt;br /&gt;Get cast in a movie coming through Utah, more acting gigs, more fun!&lt;br /&gt;Go on a hike a month with Zoey.&lt;br /&gt;Play more poker, Play more basketball,&lt;br /&gt;be less snide to people in happy relationships (meh)&lt;br /&gt;continue to try and stay positive.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-1111984395809688115?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/1111984395809688115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=1111984395809688115' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/1111984395809688115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/1111984395809688115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2012/01/new-years-again.html' title='New Years Again?!'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-2702364981291580731</id><published>2011-07-28T22:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-28T22:59:11.025-07:00</updated><title type='text'>yeah, Im gone, this proves it...</title><content type='html'>Sometime, I wish you would talk to me,&lt;br /&gt;that you would know, just by feeling the night air, that that is my desire.&lt;br /&gt;I wish you could hear me, from way over here, that I could&lt;br /&gt;talk to a night star, and it would twinkle just so, when the light hit your retina, you would know...&lt;br /&gt;Communicate with me, and let me feel that fire that burns inside of you. I want to listen to that fire crackle. I want to feel your embers pop. Brush up on my arm, let me know you're there, from way way over there, next to the sea. Next to the Hollywood sign, maybe thinking about me.... maybe?&lt;br /&gt;I wish you could feel me, from toe to head, from ceiling to bed and all around the room with your sweet sweet eyes, and your body that just tells me lies...as it lies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart wants to consume you, drink you and gulp you, then lick the bowl.&lt;br /&gt;My intuition wont let me, protecting me, from improbability, and far too much sobriety. Logically, It will never be.&lt;br /&gt;and I know.&lt;br /&gt;so...&lt;br /&gt;I'll just let it be, that thought of you and me, dwindles... and fades away. &amp;nbsp;In to the night air...&lt;br /&gt;Can you hear my call, from way way over there, next to the oceans rise and fall?&lt;br /&gt;Can you hear me at all?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-2702364981291580731?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/2702364981291580731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=2702364981291580731' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/2702364981291580731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/2702364981291580731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2011/07/yeah-im-gone-this-proves-it.html' title='yeah, Im gone, this proves it...'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-8875423628479679189</id><published>2011-05-28T19:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-28T19:01:26.323-07:00</updated><title type='text'>dude...</title><content type='html'>I dont know whats wrong with me. I don't know what the hell happened. But I am so passionately down right now. My heart is heavy and I'm just not doing so good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-8875423628479679189?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/8875423628479679189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=8875423628479679189' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/8875423628479679189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/8875423628479679189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2011/05/dude.html' title='dude...'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-3443984710020604635</id><published>2011-05-27T00:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-27T01:01:17.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What ever happened to the Daydream Kid?</title><content type='html'>I am the daydream kid, or was, especially back in the day. It has been a long while since my heart has had a wanderlust for the fantastic, and lately it has been picking up. This brings a few things 1. More writing (which is good, no more slump) and 2. Disdainful projections of futures with women that I'm interested in.&lt;div&gt;So I hired this lady I found on fb a while back. I deleted her as a friend because when I extended my fb hand to her, I was in a major depressed and dark state and just wanted someone prettier than usual to look at. She was a good option. So, after randomly finding her on the suggested friends bar, I click. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Actress (actor, whatever. Female actors are Actresses and always will be) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lives in Cali.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I set everything up to fly her out here. She's pretty nice to deal with.  I begin to ritually tell myself "don't think about her! I don't want to think about her" So I would stop. I just didn't want to put myself in that foolish position, vie'ing for something that I couldn't have and ultimately wouldn't have.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, my mind slips and I entertain the thoughts I don't want to have. But then I resume my chosen discipline.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Day comes that she fly's in and we work with her. Only was in the room with her for 5 hrs. I played my game. Didn't want to come off as interested at ALL to her, because 1. I didn't want to be, and 2. I wasn't. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But then I was...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Upon inquiring if anyone had seen the season finale of Family Guy and their spoof on Return of the Jedi, she says "Oh Im a huge Starwars fan."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Be-still-my-heart....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;well, what am I to do from there? I just worked, and we worked efficiently, collaboratively, with lots of smiles.  She brought up that I reminded her of a young Kiefer Southerland. I don't really know what that means...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today, I feel foolish. I feel contemptible for even writing this garble that is pugnant-ly reminiscent of the crap I used to write 9 years ago. A friend related to a friend of his experience with her and the friend relayed that he was probably crushing on her. He proceeded to play out the scenario of my friend and her hooking up and getting married and that it "could work." and I thought to myself... how arrogant of me, sir, to even think that something that great and sweet would ever happen to me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My friends, colleagues, meanderers of the blogosphere, I present to you today, for your consideration... this thought:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"You get what you deserve."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What does this mean, and what exactly does it have to do with courtship and pairing off?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Another friend, female, whom is married and made some sheisty decisions in her life once said "just because someone says that you deserve a great guy, doesn't mean you actually deserve a great guy." This got me thinking, and wondering about her situation. Did she actually deserve a great guy? Did the great guy actually deserve her? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Repentance is great, and is a true principle, but what about someones past? It doesn't change. Its still there to us humans. So do you really get what you deserve?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've dated some delicious women in my time. None of them have stuck to me. They don't deserve me? Or I don't deserve them?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just dont want to daydream about things I dont deserve anymore. So I'm trying to not do it at all. Its not too hard, because I dont run around with many single people. I dont much run around anyways. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Meh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-3443984710020604635?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/3443984710020604635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=3443984710020604635' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/3443984710020604635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/3443984710020604635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2011/05/what-ever-happened-to-daydream-kid.html' title='What ever happened to the Daydream Kid?'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-1892594527012221889</id><published>2011-04-17T21:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-17T21:28:39.661-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dating past 30 is worthless in Mormon Culture</title><content type='html'>Dating past 30 yrs of age is worthless. In Utah and in mormon culture, you soon find out that since you have been getting asked to be married by the brethren and by God from an early age, that since you have not been married yet, you have mentally passed the point of being ready and looking. I, for one, am not excited in the least to date. I am not excited to kiss someone for the first time, not excited to get to know them, spend time with them, and go through the process over and over and over.  I just dont want it.&lt;div&gt;Sure, I want kids, I would like to wake up next to the love of my life, but as of yesterday (saturday) I am not on the war path to make this happen.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Poor Utah. We dont drink, we dont go out for 1 night stands, we dont hit the night life where there is more potential in the outcome of the evening. We sit around, bbq, watch a movie and go home. Or, we go to church, have a dinner with friends, talk about why we are not married yet, then go home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or occasionally we find someone we are interested in, and they dont care because they are in the burned zone and they dont want to open up. Should you sit around and wait? Nope. Wait for that person? Nope. Schmucks do that. You must continue on... getting out there to bbq's, crashing movie parties, and not getting any phone numbers at the end of the evening, because no body really cares anymore. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aint this the truth?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-1892594527012221889?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/1892594527012221889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=1892594527012221889' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/1892594527012221889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/1892594527012221889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2011/04/dating-past-30-is-worthless-in-mormon.html' title='Dating past 30 is worthless in Mormon Culture'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-1541328864507674968</id><published>2011-02-07T00:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T00:51:50.348-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just skip February Please</title><content type='html'>Upon re-entry in to the real world, I have come to realize that, man things are tough. Its tough to not have enough cash. Its tough to let your self get hurt again. Its tough to be open and willing. Im pretty open to doing things. I like to experience stuff, but it seems most of the time, people are so caught up in their own stuff and their own little circle, that I don't get the opportunity to partake in the social atmosphere. Man this is such a freaking big struggle for me. Ugh!&lt;div&gt;Well, I have this girl that I like, though she told me she does not want to date me, we still talk and on occasion hang out, though I can feel enormous barriers that are in place. I think she is quite a quality individual. Much different than every single girl I've ever dated in several ways. But the fruit is verboten for now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the mean time I have to face the grim reality that I need to do some me work and not worry about the company of ladies all the time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Blame me for wanting somebody to love? Foget you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-1541328864507674968?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/1541328864507674968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=1541328864507674968' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/1541328864507674968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/1541328864507674968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2011/02/just-skip-february-please.html' title='Just skip February Please'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-4404899628651548028</id><published>2010-12-29T01:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-29T01:21:35.451-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Year In Review #2</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TRr9mEKe6OI/AAAAAAAAACg/PxadRogEknk/s1600/36676_439200973581_585378581_5904719_6562495_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TRr9mEKe6OI/AAAAAAAAACg/PxadRogEknk/s320/36676_439200973581_585378581_5904719_6562495_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556031920709495010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow 2010, you were a rough bitch. I thought that I cried enough in 2009, but 2010 was definitely the worst year I have ever had.&lt;div&gt;It was filled with getting my heart broken, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;both my feet broken, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;my glasses broken,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;my bank broken,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;my ego broken,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;friendships broken,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;hopes broken,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;future plans broken,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;trusts broken,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;car broken,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;password broken,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;dogs eyelid broken,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;creativity broken,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and a veritable plethora of other things being broken... I got bucked off a freakin horse!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I rebuilt...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My creativity,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;my dogs eyelid,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;car,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;some trust in OTHER DIFFERENT people,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;reincarnated future plans,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;hopes (no matter how weakly this flame flickers, its there regularly)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;friendships,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;bank...kinda,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and my feet rebuilt themselves.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No glasses yet, but hopefully soon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just hope to be able to continue to purge negativity out of my life, while bypassing the wantabee's and egotists and forge a strong and sure path towards doing things that are fulfilling and life enriching.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to hike more with my dog.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to finish my damn college degree.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to find a lover that will be mature and giving.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to celebrate holidays HARDER!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to make at least 4 films. At LEAST.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I have to make 500,000 this year. I only have a year and a half to become a millionaire.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So giddyap!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-4404899628651548028?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/4404899628651548028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=4404899628651548028' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/4404899628651548028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/4404899628651548028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/12/year-in-review-2.html' title='Year In Review #2'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TRr9mEKe6OI/AAAAAAAAACg/PxadRogEknk/s72-c/36676_439200973581_585378581_5904719_6562495_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-9217164380576671515</id><published>2010-11-15T01:16:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-15T01:21:28.791-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bloggamy</title><content type='html'>I am committing Bloggamy. Its dirty, nasty and nerdy all at the same time.&lt;div&gt;I miss the sunlight. I've been crying or on the verge of crying a lot lately. I must be emotional from not having any money to spare. I hate not having enough money. I work 6 days a week and still dont have enough. Life shouldn't be like this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Zoey ate a whole batch of un-cooked rolls tonight. It really upset me because I was enjoying the spirit felt from church but it soon turned in to extreme anger. I went to dinner, and then fell asleep on Blakes couch after I got there. Me no likey be so emotional so often.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think there are a lot of women to date out there. I think I come across them a lot but I am not sure if my heart recognizes it. Most of the time I still feel dead towards women, though I would like to have some of their company. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One girl I know doesn't want to play games and I think that that is impossible to do. It wont be fun if no games are played, and if you are waiting on signals, then nothing will happen because the game isn't going to be played.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want enough money, thats all I want.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Im moving next week. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-9217164380576671515?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/9217164380576671515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=9217164380576671515' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/9217164380576671515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/9217164380576671515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/11/bloggamy.html' title='Bloggamy'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-1367910955499628780</id><published>2010-10-10T01:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-10T01:10:21.885-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Polygamy</title><content type='html'>What would I be like as a polygamist?&lt;div&gt;I had really never thought of it before tonight. You hear all of these jokes like "Why would I want more than one wife? I can barely handle the one I have!"  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But what if men of the church today were put in to that position?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Scenario: Christ comes. The earth burns up and you and me barely make the grade and are left on earth. Are there many people left? Are families starving because there is no father in the home anymore?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, I hope, if I were made to do this, that I would be a good father and a good husband and leader to all under my care. I like to think I would be a good leader and considerate of each wife that was entrusted to me. I don't think I would like to father any further children but with my original wife. I would hope we could all become a team, working toward a goal, understanding our individual responsibilities.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyways, it feels really weird talking like this. I don't like it. But it is a very interesting and abstract thought. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-1367910955499628780?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/1367910955499628780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=1367910955499628780' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/1367910955499628780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/1367910955499628780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/10/polygamy.html' title='Polygamy'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-2737903367539644363</id><published>2010-09-12T01:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-12T01:55:31.261-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life is Kung Fu</title><content type='html'>Life is Kung Fu according to Jackie Chan in the Karate Kid.......&lt;div&gt;yeah think about that one for a bit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And yet again I want to turn over a new leaf of calmness and control.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I now will.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-2737903367539644363?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/2737903367539644363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=2737903367539644363' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/2737903367539644363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/2737903367539644363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/09/life-is-kung-fu.html' title='Life is Kung Fu'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-5814927695564436228</id><published>2010-09-04T02:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T02:49:12.513-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Eventually it eats...</title><content type='html'>Things I try and ignore dont bug me when brought up, but eventually thoughts penetrate my skull, burrow down into my cerebral cortex, feed upon brain matter, grow and metastasize until I am thoroughly bugged.&lt;div&gt;BUGGED! Then I cant get it out of my head. I just want to beat some ass!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My sense of right and wrong is very strong and the wisdom I have accumulated over the years adds to my nonsense detection. Few scenarios have not been nonsense since I have been in Utah the past 4 years. Currently, the one that burrows into my brain and grows, is explained by this one song with a catchy tune... And I dedicate it to the 2 people who just keep shooting their own reputation in the foot, with every hang out they have.   Man, some people have no honor. Growing up is hard. But waiting for others to grow up around you is harder.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Peace out bitches!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;object width="580" height="360"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/pc0mxOXbWIU?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999&amp;amp;hd=1&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/pc0mxOXbWIU?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999&amp;amp;hd=1&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="580" height="360"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-5814927695564436228?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/5814927695564436228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=5814927695564436228' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/5814927695564436228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/5814927695564436228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/09/eventually-it-eats.html' title='Eventually it eats...'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-3626766069134751325</id><published>2010-08-06T01:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-06T01:54:42.687-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Theatre of Life</title><content type='html'>Some say I go to the theatre to be challenged. Well I go to my life to be challenged. Especially today.&lt;div&gt;Got invited to go to a party. Nice party. Nice house. Tons of people, which isn't necessarily bad because the environment sets up everyone for mingling instead of grouping together and doing nothing with others.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Saw cute girl. Was kinda fascinated with her smile. She looked at me. A moment goes by as we had just glanced and noticed each other at the party so what do you do? Check again to see if the other person is looking....YUP! Looked again.  I was looking at her as she took another peek at me. Her eyes shot down to the floor and I realize to myself...Yup, we just had a little moment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So me, being the smarty that I am, I bury my face in my phone, looking at all the awesome text messages I had gotten in the day, and what does she do? Leaves.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am so awesome.  I just let the opportunities go on by because its easier to write a blog about them, then to live through the raw emotion of them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-3626766069134751325?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/3626766069134751325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=3626766069134751325' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/3626766069134751325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/3626766069134751325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/08/theatre-of-life.html' title='Theatre of Life'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-3258136508233305847</id><published>2010-08-05T02:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-05T02:32:16.964-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Prop Ocho</title><content type='html'>Today, one man overruled the majority vote of Californians, saying that the majority was wrong in voting for a law to be passed that would not allow gays to be married.&lt;div&gt;So, either this is good, or Democracy is dead.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think the latter, and I think it is only inevitable. I think I am being prepared for something, like constant hate speech and mud slinging because no matter what I say, even if I am opposing that the judge should not be overturning the vote of 7 million people. This is not a Monarchy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Its times  like these that make me wonder what life would be like if I would have heeded my state presidents advice and council when I moved back up to Ogden " Come to institute, and I promise you that you will be blessed with good friends" I went to institute like 2 times, and Im just now getting over it. I have met and been associated with some of the most miserable people I have ever met in Ogden.  It must be a breeding ground for them because it was like that waaaay before I ever got there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wish I would have gone to institute. I would not be associated with people who tell me I'm "hopeless" or "always saying things that are meant to offend" or that I'm a "bigot" without even asking me any questions about my point of view.  I am a good person. I stand for what I believe in and I WONT SHUT UP! I WILL NEVER BE SILENCED! YOU WILL HAVE TO DRAG ME THROUGH THE STREETS AND CUT OUT MY TONGUE. I WILL NOT BE QUIET.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(sigh)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I do think that this will not pass the supreme court. If it does, God will be here very soon. That or the church will extract from California, and then all churches will except the non denominational ones, and then Cali will fall in to the ocean and then it will be blamed on Bush.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It never ceased to amaze me the logic of Liberals. I got called names today and people I know tried to vilify me and demean me, yet they are screaming acceptance...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-3258136508233305847?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/3258136508233305847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=3258136508233305847' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/3258136508233305847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/3258136508233305847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/08/prop-ocho.html' title='Prop Ocho'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-6702359784252471792</id><published>2010-07-22T03:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-22T03:26:23.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Man on the Moon</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; "&gt;They can't comprehend&lt;br /&gt;Or even come close to understanding him&lt;br /&gt;I guess if I was borin they would love me more&lt;br /&gt;Guess if I was simple in the mind&lt;br /&gt;Everything would be fine&lt;br /&gt;Maybe if I was jerk to girls&lt;br /&gt;Instead of being nice and speakin kind words&lt;br /&gt;Then maybe it would be ok to say then&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't a good guy to begin with&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my mind is all crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy...&lt;br /&gt;They got me thinkin I aint human,&lt;br /&gt;Like I came in from above, above, above, above...&lt;br /&gt;Feelin like a airplane in the sky&lt;br /&gt;But then they say I'm crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy...&lt;br /&gt;They got me thinkin I aint human,&lt;br /&gt;Like I came in from above, above, above, above...&lt;br /&gt;Feelin like a bird sittin high high&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I be that man on the moon&lt;br /&gt;I'm that man on the moon&lt;br /&gt;And imma do what I do so&lt;br /&gt;Do you hey hey&lt;br /&gt;I be posted with my blunt and a brew my dude&lt;br /&gt;I'm that man on the moon&lt;br /&gt;I'm up up on the moon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Close my eyes, hide in the dark&lt;br /&gt;It's a curtain call, come on come all&lt;br /&gt;All I do is try to make it simple&lt;br /&gt;The ones that make it complicated&lt;br /&gt;Never get congratulated&lt;br /&gt;I'm somethin different in all aspects&lt;br /&gt;Don't want a woman just to love her assets&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mind is all hazy, hazy, hazy, hazy...&lt;br /&gt;I be thinkin that I'm wrong,&lt;br /&gt;Cuz they used to call me lame, lame, lame...&lt;br /&gt;My swag was a little different&lt;br /&gt;But then my mind is hazy, hazy, hazy, hazy...&lt;br /&gt;I be thinkin that I'm wrong.&lt;br /&gt;But they the ones who lame, lame, lame, lame...&lt;br /&gt;I got the last laugh nigga&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I be that man on the moon&lt;br /&gt;I'm that man on the moon&lt;br /&gt;And imma do what I do so&lt;br /&gt;Do you hey hey&lt;br /&gt;I be posted with my blunt and a brew my dude&lt;br /&gt;I'm that man on the moon&lt;br /&gt;I'm up up on the moon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-kid cudi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-6702359784252471792?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/6702359784252471792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=6702359784252471792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/6702359784252471792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/6702359784252471792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/07/man-on-moon.html' title='Man on the Moon'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-5061449789001390730</id><published>2010-07-21T21:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-21T22:04:53.061-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Inception</title><content type='html'>I was just not that awful impressed with this film. I wish I was. I could share in the amazement of my fellow man. &lt;div&gt;Problems with it:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Script. I felt like the script was spoon fed to us all. There was no mystery associated with it, it was all given to you. The edit could have given us a little more cut here. They could have cut out any allusion to his wife going to definitely be his crux. Give us some stuff to think about, let us discover things. Everything was explained. BLLAARRGHH!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. The Physics. We had a lot given to us at the beginning of the film, but the physics mysticism fizzled. Cool fun special effects, but I don't know if it was enough for a dream within a dream within a dream film.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Dicaprio. He seemed not connected to the material. Was it just me? I'm going to have to check some of the reviews. I did however really like the fellow from Bronson. He was good, real and raw and connected.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. I knew the twist at the end within the first 10 minutes. Maybe just a great guess, but having watched The Prestige earlier in the day (also directed by Nolan) I knew that the title encapsulated the film.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe its just my training in the arts, maybe all movies have lost their charm, and are formulaic, but it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. I thought Inglorious Basterds was a much better movie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;L&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-5061449789001390730?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/5061449789001390730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=5061449789001390730' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/5061449789001390730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/5061449789001390730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/07/inception.html' title='Inception'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-1035318019522148734</id><published>2010-07-15T00:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-15T00:54:57.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'>society vs movies</title><content type='html'>Movies depict the fantasized, the extra real, the over dramatized reality we live in every day.  It seems that society has taken a turn, not a left at Albuquerque, but a turn downward in the faith of passion and romance and caring for others. This blog is dedicated to calling dem shits into question, because right now, I'm at a crossroads of passion vs societal thinking.&lt;div&gt;Is chivalry dead or, as Dave Chapelle says, did "...women killed it"?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What does society want? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hear all the time "let people do what they want. Leave them alone. Its their decision." Etc Etc. Valid, I will say. I must agree that you have no control over another person, and if you do, then you are probably evil in nature.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What do movies portray? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Movies often portray people keeping other people in check after they make mistakes. They portray turning points in peoples lives. Interventions. It seems in movies, the big moves are made, because the half ass moves, are boring to watch and are not dramatic enough.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So what does Society revert to? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Half ass moves.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Because its easier, less risky, and thats what satan wants...half ass-ery.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I make big moves, I make extreme moves. I do this for a couple reasons.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Im stupid.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. I want a damn reaction to my action.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. I want to make a difference and people to listen. Quite frankly, I believe I have a lot of the answers and people should listen to me :p&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What does this often incur? Mad people, at me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How do I wish people would treat me most of the time? Boldly, not overbearingly, and they don't. So, what usually happens is; my "friends" or people that I have tried to intervene with or help out or whatever, resent me and continue on in destructive habits. Buuuut.... I tried.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This results for me in a somewhat social phobia. I want to care, I need to care, and often I care a little too much so I make my big moves, and people get mad at me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You can be mad at me if you want. Thats up to you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, the social phobia makes me back off from situations which I really care about and think "Where's the passion and why cant I express it anymore"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Man I was a passionate kid going right in to college, and society wanted to put me in a place (not MY place, just a place) Big moves being the culprit. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Right now the situation I want to make Big Moves in is timing based, but nonetheless, a questioning fog enters my brain ..."Where's my passion. Where's me bleeding on my knees, begging, crying and groveling? Where's the passion in my relationships?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I dunno. Beat down by society I guess? Beat down by my pride.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lots of liberals make movies. And its mostly liberals who try and stifle passion for other people, minus sex, drugs, and fame. (or so I've encountered). What the hell Hollywood? No wonder you're tanking, your heart is in the wrong place. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, my basic thought here is "Do I make Big Moves (when the time is right) and risk the rejection? Can I get past my own ego? How do I reconnect with that passionate young man I once knew? Do I grovel and weep and bleed out of my heart because I absolutely want to and that person deserves to know my feelings?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;or...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;do I half ass it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Where's your passion gone?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-1035318019522148734?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/1035318019522148734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=1035318019522148734' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/1035318019522148734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/1035318019522148734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/07/society-vs-movies.html' title='society vs movies'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-783644830117952713</id><published>2010-07-13T01:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-13T02:00:03.533-07:00</updated><title type='text'>that there then this here</title><content type='html'>Today was a good day, a long day. A day of answered prayers and comfort. A day of a lot of pain.&lt;div&gt;It is no lie that I have something wrong in my head. I try not to be depressed, but it seems to creep up on my like in a cycle or something. I tried to lay face down on the ground and pray cause I dont like other outlets. I prayed for a long time. "send me an angel" please God, send me a messenger or something.  Couple minutes later, a friend who wants me to do a video for her, that tweets me...@Angelasms, contacted me. Yes, I find it ridiculous that ANGEL was in the name, and she asked if I was ok.... Jeez God, could you be a little more specific? I got to laugh cause I haven't felt like prayers have been answered very often the past 2 years. A couple.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, in conjunction with this experience, I made some din din, and a friend on FB contacted me and relayed an experience that made me feel a lot better about my life, like I was not alone and I was justified.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today, I also directed a 9 page script that I wrote for a company. I am a professional film director. Bigger things to follow I suppose. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;so.....blah....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-783644830117952713?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/783644830117952713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=783644830117952713' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/783644830117952713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/783644830117952713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/07/that-there-then-this-here.html' title='that there then this here'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-3225440097597948826</id><published>2010-06-24T21:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-24T21:36:30.221-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The little company that was weird ass</title><content type='html'>Well, I've kinda hit a wall with this one. Im really glad I hit the wall because now I get to move on. I think I've done my time and its time to make feature length movies. If we make one, there will be more to follow, guaranteed. I don't put out crap.&lt;div&gt;Im really glad that I had the experience that I did last week, cause I've kinda been pathless for the past little while. I've been doing a ton of work for free, with the hopes of getting paid later on down the road, and it looks like that is unappreciated. Thats ok, it just hurts at first. I'm looking at doing more creating rather than finding. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Had someone once tell me that in this business "The work kinda chooses you". And I understand that concept. I don't think they did tho. If you get it to choose you, you will get stuck in a rut of not being able to do what you really want to do. You have to choose for yourself and not get bullied around by money. Stick to your convictions, ever learning, and head forward with your dreams. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Im gonna do that...and make some captivating movies. I hope you quote them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;L&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-3225440097597948826?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/3225440097597948826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=3225440097597948826' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/3225440097597948826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/3225440097597948826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/06/little-company-that-was-weird-ass.html' title='The little company that was weird ass'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-5842614326005365493</id><published>2010-06-19T21:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-19T21:39:23.677-07:00</updated><title type='text'>are you forgot or not</title><content type='html'>Are you forgot or...not? Big question lately, as my good friend takes stabs at my sacrifice levels, my x girlfriend un knowingly presents questions of self importance on me, and people are dying around me. &lt;br /&gt;I started to think about 2 things...1: If I were in a serious accident, who would rush to be by my side? And...2: If I died, who would attend my funeral if anybody.&lt;br /&gt;You ask these questions to urself, you think you come up with the answers, and then you come up with another question: what legacy am I leaving. For what your legacy and how it is weaved is what will bring people to ur funeral, bedside, etc.&lt;br /&gt;So what's my legacy?&lt;br /&gt;No freakin idea. Right now, doesn't seem like much. Seems like I have a couple of friends that I used to hang out with, and we've all gone our separate ways. I've gone to college, served a mission, had a couple girlfriends, wrote a play and had a couple good days on stage. I'm sure theyres more but I don't know of what significance it is.anywho, I don't have a wife or kids, a steady job, or a roth ira. No life insurance policy or stocks, dividends. I do have my dad, a blackberry, computer, car and a dog.(Good Zoey). &lt;br /&gt;So what's my legacy? I've done some good art. I've helped several women be strong, get out of bad situations, kind of rehabilitate them, and then watch them move on. Would they attend my funeral? Probably not. Because I don't wish to talk to them for one reason or another. Mostly because I get mad at them for finding happiness when I can't, then I resent them and don't want to talk to them anymore&lt;br /&gt;So what's my legacy? I went on a mission, which I think I resent still. I felt and still feel rid hard and put away wet.I worked hard for the majority, but always ended up slacking and not following the rules, thus wasting time. Yeah people were baptised, but they're all apostate now. My fault? Dunno. I don't think people change. Then mom died. I resent that too. That's what made me such a cranky , merciless hatefull person that is so hard to deal with. If you want to know why I am the way I am, look at my mission presidents philosophy, and then the effects of my moms passing.&lt;br /&gt;So who comes to my bedside after an accident? Dad, maybe elise, maybe. The Hancocks. &lt;br /&gt;Who comes to my funeral? Bout 10 people for sure. Maybe...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-5842614326005365493?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/5842614326005365493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=5842614326005365493' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/5842614326005365493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/5842614326005365493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/06/are-you-forgot-or-not.html' title='are you forgot or not'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-3532369641324609840</id><published>2010-06-13T00:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-13T00:55:30.313-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Life is not a movie, so get realistic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-3532369641324609840?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/3532369641324609840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=3532369641324609840' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/3532369641324609840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/3532369641324609840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/06/life-is-not-movie-so-get-realistic.html' title=''/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-2391731631948408559</id><published>2010-06-06T21:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T22:06:07.062-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Boy Toy</title><content type='html'>A lot of thought power has recently been devoted to "why is Utah so clique-y?"  I have several friends, and they are not clique-y and for that I'm thankful.  But most of the people I go to church with, are socially snob-istic.  I guess it all goes back to progress as I wonder why they are not married. Though I am not married and am the same age, I just have run in to people who don't want to marry me. They would rather marry someone perfect.  &lt;div&gt;Progress is not:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Growing up in Utah, with the same friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Going to school in Utah, with the same friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Going to college with those friends.... then....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;living with those friends after college.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Your brain does not progress the way it could if you continue to stay in a comfort zone. Why would you grow up if you are in the same situation you were in 15 years ago?  I mean, what would you grow up for?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I dont feel like I need to be anywhere else right now. I feel like I am in a good, and uncomfortable poverty state. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Interesting thing happened to me today at sacrament meeting. A lady got up and started talking about how she had a young lady friend that had, in her patriarchal blessing, something that said "her talent in life would be to get young men ready for marriage" She went on to say that almost every single guy that girl dated, got married right after they stopped dating.  I've wondered to myself if I am kind of like that.  I sure come across a lot of girls that need help, I help them out, break down their emotional barrier, and then they get married. Its a total blow to the ego, but maybe thats why it happens, because I'm supposed to...maybe?&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/5845681102712066721-2391731631948408559?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/2391731631948408559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=2391731631948408559' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/2391731631948408559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/2391731631948408559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/06/oh-boy-toy.html' title='Oh Boy Toy'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-5623331378672495657</id><published>2010-05-13T23:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-13T23:36:59.952-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stagnation Frustration</title><content type='html'>I farted. But thats progress right? That means things are moving in my body correctly.&lt;div&gt;I need to fart my way out of this house. This week has been "Please get out" and I would like to do that, only I don't have any means to. Tonight it was "sorry there isn't any dinner for you, well, not really sorry." And it was confirmed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I'm frustrated that I cant move out on my own or find steady work or be dependable for myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-5623331378672495657?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/5623331378672495657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=5623331378672495657' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/5623331378672495657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/5623331378672495657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/05/stagnation-frustration.html' title='Stagnation Frustration'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-5157290856920567057</id><published>2010-05-06T13:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-06T13:33:18.165-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Zoey</title><content type='html'>I was desperate for something, so I went and drove 1500 miles, draining my bank account, and adopted a dog. Last night and today I feel like I have made a big mistake and cannot take care of this dog like she needs to be taken care of. She needs attention and play time and probably a farm to roam around in so she doesn't get bored, otherwise I feel really bad that she isn't getting the stimulation she needs to be a good dog. &lt;div&gt;I also am frustrated because I have to walk her 2 times a day and my ankle is not healed yet so its making me not progress in the right way.  I might feel differently about the dog if I could run, but it still hurts to walk.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, moral of the story, I feel like I have made a mistake and I need to talk to the adoption agency about returning her, cause she's a good dog, she just is too much for me, especially now that I feel I wont even be able to go to work and leave her here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-5157290856920567057?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/5157290856920567057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=5157290856920567057' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/5157290856920567057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/5157290856920567057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/05/zoey.html' title='Zoey'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-5845868021650593119</id><published>2010-04-21T07:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-21T07:27:38.174-07:00</updated><title type='text'>unanswered Q's</title><content type='html'>Yesterday my heart broke, but today is when I feel it most. I know my med's help with the blow, but mostly I can still feel today what happened to my heart yesterday.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My mind races and is hyperactive, and while I cannot change someones mind, I think I am a pretty reasonable person. I think I don't ask too much in being with me. But if I'm not your bag, Im not your bag I guess.  Alana said you should just move on, but I want answers.  I want to know who the dirt bag is. I want to know who the hell he is.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It would make perfect sense to me if it was no one, but it would also make perfect sense to me if it were her gay roommate that she was in love with, and didn't realize it.  I've put the pieces of that together and it makes total sense.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also want to know why she choses to not cope with her problems. This never made sense to me. I confront mine and I try and move past them, but when I asked her to go to counseling, she did, and then collectively mocked me with the therapist instead of working on her issues and moving past them. Its almost like she needs them so she can keep a wall up against men, so she can keep that grudge going, so she has an excuse to not get in a relationship so she can follow her acting career, so she always has an upper hand. Which turns out to just be a nuisance and a hinderance in the long run.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I dont understand why she drug me around so long. I don't understand why she wants to shake me off. I don't understand why she said "I have luck with everything but love" and she has love staring her in the face, begging to be with her, and she shoots it down.  I don't understand who she is anymore and haven't since she graduated college. No one does. I don't think she even knows who she is, or what she stands for.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My heart is beaten and broken. I don't really know what to do at this point. I was convinced she was the one.  I don't want my life with someone else. I have no other interest but her.  I guess I'm just naive? Ignorant? I don't know. I guess.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I dont understand why she never reached out to touch me.  I never understood why she didn't want me there for her birthday last year.  I don't understand why she wouldn't deliver crutches to me after my leg was broken. I don't understand why she was so upset with me for ruining her evening when I hurt my leg.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I dont understand why she wont have faith in me.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and I don't understand why Im such a repulsive person.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-5845868021650593119?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/5845868021650593119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=5845868021650593119' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/5845868021650593119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/5845868021650593119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/04/unanswered-qs.html' title='unanswered Q&apos;s'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-5738695385665820114</id><published>2010-04-20T01:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-20T01:41:19.934-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today my heart broke...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-5738695385665820114?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/5738695385665820114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=5738695385665820114' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/5738695385665820114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/5738695385665820114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/04/today-my-heart-broke.html' title=''/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-3162552301994250264</id><published>2010-04-11T00:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-11T00:30:35.946-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Throat</title><content type='html'>Looking on line at some of my colleagues work and artistic endeavors, a thought came over me which I've thought before but this time I write about it. Go for the throat. Why not go for the kill right off the bat? Why not go big or go home right this minute? I think I have always been an ambitious person, goal oriented, and swagger filled. And I cant help but think, for me, go for the throat right out of the gate. Go for the kill stroke first this time because the time is now. I don't have much time left, and I must kill or be killed I think. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now that I write this, it doesn't make sense.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-3162552301994250264?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/3162552301994250264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=3162552301994250264' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/3162552301994250264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/3162552301994250264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/04/throat.html' title='The Throat'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-2641300362131100782</id><published>2010-01-12T11:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T02:09:54.575-08:00</updated><title type='text'>year end and out review.</title><content type='html'>I have a few minutes before I go on a photo shoot so I thought I would blog since I haven't in a while. Nobody really looks at my stuff or my twitter acct so this is just a form of therapy for myself.  &lt;div&gt;2009 can suck a duck. It was a terribly rough year. I cried in fits because I had to do another semester of school, totalling 7 1/2 years of college, and I failed a class so that makes me behind 2 classes. So I will be doing that this summer so I can have that worthless degree. Worthless in the sense that it wont and cant get me a job. No one really cares about my degree but me and my dad, and maybe grad schools. And that might come later, but I'm not quite sure yet. The more research I do on the film world, the more I learn, the more I doubt I need to go unless I want some really advanced graphics training.  There is no set career path for a director. You just need to direct and direct and direct.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finished the first 2 projects for Timbershark Media this year. Kuru Footwear and Riley Jensens Varsity Quarterback. It was a pretty successful year as far as productivity, even if it wasn't paid work.  We will get paid later. I did 2 shows, one was a one act at the college, where the director basically stabbed me in the back, and the other was The Scarlett Pimpernel at HTC.  Theater people really have turned me off from doing much theater. Its not as fun as it used to be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, I guess I must mention that my play "Fire in the Bones" got invited to KCACTF in February and I got a shiny plaque with my name on it. It sits in a box till I have a home to hang it in.  I am quite proud of that. I was the first one in the history of my college to have a self written play get invited to the festival. 3 plays got invited, out of like 120 so I felt pretty spiffy. I've written a little on it since, trying to make it into a full length, but that is a slow process for I feel like I've blown my uber creativity on it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I write and try and write some more and hope that something comes out. I finished a 45 minute rant about being a poor middle class white guy this summer and it is in production. We will be shooting more when the weather gets rid of the snow on the ground. Its more than half way done.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last weekend we took 1st place at the LDS 24 hr film marathon. That was an honor and a surprise. We didn't expect to win, though people on my team really really thought we were going to. I hoped we would, naturally, but thought we got disqualified last minute because of gore. Here is a link to a blog about the festival that mentions the movie:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "&gt;&lt;a href="http://wasatchwrap.blogspot.com/2010/01/ldsff-24-hour-marathon-screenings.html" target="_blank" style="color: rgb(7, 77, 143); "&gt;http://wasatchwrap.blogspot.&lt;wbr&gt;com/2010/01/ldsff-24-hour-&lt;wbr&gt;marathon-screenings.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Im really quite a happy camper. I have a good place to live. I can not pay my bills. I have a functional car and things are looking up, though I don't have a girlfriend, but have a best friend that is a kind and loving girl. I don't know what 2010 holds, but it seems to be ripe. Just don't let Obama step on it before we harvest.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-2641300362131100782?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/2641300362131100782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=2641300362131100782' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/2641300362131100782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/2641300362131100782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2010/01/year-end-and-out-review.html' title='year end and out review.'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-1668148684798278234</id><published>2009-11-06T00:57:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T01:15:57.185-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Judge not...yet</title><content type='html'>Lesson Learned: Preface your logistical argument with things dealing with both technicalities and emotions. Otherwise, it gets out of hand. If you find that you have not prefaced your argument with such things, then you must work tirelessly, enlisting people that are on your side, to clean up the mess that has been created, and your good name.&lt;div&gt;Do not argue on Facebook. It takes too much time to type against everyone else.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Facebook is dumb.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Facebook represents the lack of accountability in society correlated with our actions.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Die Facebook die.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Remember to stand for what you believe in but watch how bold you are. Use boldness, but not  over-bearance.  To thine own self be true.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The most important piece of advice I can give, which was passed on to me, is; always ask "Why?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ask Why? first. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-1668148684798278234?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/1668148684798278234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=1668148684798278234' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/1668148684798278234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/1668148684798278234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2009/11/judge-notyet.html' title='Judge not...yet'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-6965719780944706562</id><published>2009-10-19T01:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T01:40:47.332-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='filming adventures'/><title type='text'>Remember I'll Always Love You</title><content type='html'>So... I was an extra on this movie called Remember I'll Always Love You (exclusively released for German audiences, but shot in English) and this was my 2nd experience on the set with the cast and crew. The first time was at a house up on the side of the mountain and it was freaking freezing cold and all the extras were huddled around a propane space heater while telling glory stories of being an extra and how Zack Heffron hit him in the eye with a lazer. It was snowing earlier that day. We weren't complaining much although they made us wait in an open garage for 4 hrs before getting to us.&lt;div&gt;Today, I arrived at base camp and filled out my paperwork on one of the dinner tables and took the salt shaker and put it on top of my paperwork so it wouldn't blow away, I then moved the vase of flowers over a little so I could see the guy who was talking to me (another extra) from across the table. Little did I know the consequences of my actions. Ramifications ensued. From what do the ramifications ensue? you might ask? Well, I shall explain:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got up to go to wardrobe, the last of us 4 extras, and started to walk off and turned around to find one of the cooks cursing at me. "Dont mess with my F'ing table! Here take your F'ing paper." And he took my paper and threw it on the ground.  I was half astonished at this childish behavior but kept my tongue in check. Every single time this kind of crap happens, I have a flash of anger rush over me and I want to go straight up to the guy/girl and grab them and teach them a lesson in manners by berating them and then throwing them around. Alas, this fantasy will not be enacted today. "I'm sorry SIR. And they're's no need to throw my papers on the ground." "Well don't F'in mess with my table." I promptly walked off shaking my head in amazement. Later that day, that man cooked me noodles and looked me in the eye as he dished them on to my plate.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;During dinner I sat on the ground. The tables were full and I didn't need to sit at the tables with everyone else. The makeup lady passed me by and said something about not excluding myself, and I replied "I'm doing good here, thanks." After I noticed people getting up, I got up and went to find a place at the tables with the other extras so I could cut my chicken on something other than the ground. A pair of sunglasses lay on the table where I intended to place said chicken, and so I scooted them over, for there was not an owner in sight that I could tell. One of the lead females in the film then, very deliberately, reached over and grabbed the glasses and slowly pulled them towards her, giving me a death stare. (or so I heard later on) "Oh, sorry." I said and sat down, not thinking much of it, but was curious as to why she grabbed the glasses so methodically in the first place. Not really caring very much, I finished my dinner.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lessons learned: After much self reflection, I determined that I must attract drama. I don't know why. I don't know how. I just do and certainly don't mean to. I work hard, do my job, and then want to leave. Forgive me for wanting to stay aloof.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And the second lesson is: Be polite to everyone on a job. You never know who you are talking to. I may never make it big enough to hire a catering service but I know I will never being hiring them because of how one idiot treated little ol' me just for moving the salt and flowers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-6965719780944706562?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/6965719780944706562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=6965719780944706562' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/6965719780944706562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/6965719780944706562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2009/10/remember-ill-always-love-you.html' title='Remember I&apos;ll Always Love You'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-769829287030869959</id><published>2009-09-24T02:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T02:17:06.648-07:00</updated><title type='text'>G20 summit</title><content type='html'>I'm scared and its probably because I don't understand it all yet. Today Barack Hussein Obama, the "president" of the U.S. of America, basically put Israel on the chopping block and said he was going to take care of palestine. Now I seem to remember a lot in the Bible about Israel fighting and I know there is a lot of war over there all the time. Its like a turf battle that Obama all of a sudden says he's going to take care of. &lt;div&gt;In my uneducated opinion... No good can come of this. We already have radical terrorists trying to kill us all, and then we piss off one of the fiercest fighting nations in all the world?  There is more loyalty and heart over there then you can find in Washington DC.  It scares me. I cant see this not being messy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On a similar note, I find people who continue to praise Obama bewildering. It must mean they are un-informed or are actually enjoying the ride with a big poop eatin grin on their faces. Political turmoil is baaaaaad. Especially from a presidential candidate who promised to have a non partisan approach to politics.  I don't think its happened once since he's been here. But then again, I don't think he really cares about the people, just the power.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;God help us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-769829287030869959?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/769829287030869959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=769829287030869959' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/769829287030869959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/769829287030869959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2009/09/g20-summit.html' title='G20 summit'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-600090455919759911</id><published>2009-09-08T01:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T01:51:26.620-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Obama quote from school address</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:12px;"&gt;The story of America isn’t about people who quit when things got tough. It’s about people who kept going, who tried harder, who loved their country too much to do anything less than their best.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"    style="font-family:'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:12px;"&gt;-Barack Obama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"    style="font-family:'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"    style="font-family:'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"    style="font-family:'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:12px;"&gt;so....&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/5845681102712066721-600090455919759911?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/600090455919759911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=600090455919759911' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/600090455919759911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/600090455919759911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2009/09/obama-quote-from-school-address.html' title='Obama quote from school address'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-6633344015735239038</id><published>2009-09-01T02:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T02:20:11.282-07:00</updated><title type='text'>it is all about me</title><content type='html'>It is all about me at this point; what I want, what I'm going to do, what I've done. Its all about my feelings and how I act. Its about how I conduct myself here in limbo. Its how long I sleep in this basement. Its how long I cry at night. Its how long I hurt inside. &lt;div&gt;Its all about how I keep getting denied. Its all about how I cant get away from girls who end up not liking me for who I am. Its all about me and my problems and how they affect her problems. its all about my feelings and protecting them. Its all about my past. Its all about about my future.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Its all about how far I can spit. Its about how I cant stand to live sometimes. Its all about how it would feel better for my body to bounce off of the side of a mountain in pure silence while no one is watching and wonder how long it would take people to figure it out. Its all about how I'm not qualified. Its all about how I'm at the bottom looking up and I really don't have anywhere to go. Its all about the nothingness that I feel. Its all about me being me and not being able to get away from me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This time, its all about me. Not that I have changed, but that I don't know how to succeed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-6633344015735239038?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/6633344015735239038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=6633344015735239038' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/6633344015735239038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/6633344015735239038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2009/09/it-is-all-about-me.html' title='it is all about me'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-2807346517467420826</id><published>2009-07-14T15:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T16:03:22.664-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Zombie Man</title><content type='html'>Since Saturday, I have been in a constant state, and it really hasn't varied, unless I do not think about it. I feel like throwing up. It is constantly in my throat and chest and I feel like throwing up from trauma all the time. I haven't ever felt like this and I am pretty good at hiding my emotions so I am dealing with it, but my constant state of living is what is doing it to me. I'm so helpless. I'm at the mercy of others.  And I have no choice, and that makes me want to vomit, all of the time apparently. Prayer doesn't make it go away. In fact God is silent. I am really on the path of doom. I feel like I'm just trying to be optimistic as I'm going to the hangman's noose. But what is there really?! I don't know. Whatever it is, if it is, its hidden, and I'm going to throw up on it when I find it, just for good measure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-2807346517467420826?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/2807346517467420826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=2807346517467420826' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/2807346517467420826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/2807346517467420826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2009/07/zombie-man.html' title='Zombie Man'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-9023806100419553890</id><published>2009-07-11T02:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T03:23:00.264-07:00</updated><title type='text'>99 things I've done since High School</title><content type='html'>1. Moved out of the house&lt;div&gt;2. Been to two colleges (SUU and WSU)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Served a mission (pittsburg, PA)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Lived in dorms for 3 years cause I liked it there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Worked for the Utah Shakespeare Festival and wore a silly hat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Was part of a Kissing booth&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. Got braces off&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. Fell in love with a girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. Got crushed by that girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Wrote a screenplay about another girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;11. Got told to go away by that girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;12. Had perogies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;13. Went skydiving&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;14. Worked for Orkin Pest control&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;15. Attended my Mothers funeral&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;16. Dealt with worse depression than I really knew I had&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;17. Laid on the floor for a month cause I pinched a nerve in my back during West Side Story&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;18. Got "martyred" by a theater department&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;19. got over it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;20. Got martyred by another theater department, but overcame.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;21. Took Earthquakes and Volcanoes 2 times, and barely passed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;22. baptised 12 people&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;23. Watched a family in Ohio explode and recover.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;24. Watched an alcoholic quit drinking and smoking because she believed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;25. Filmed and edited my first short film "Yard Sale" still a hit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;26. Went to Medieval Times with my long lost brother by sheer happenstance.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;27. Wrote a play that got invited to a national festival.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;28. Cheated on a girlfriend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;29. Studied to be a personal trainer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;30. Worked in Jackson Hole WY in a Summerstock theater company.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;31. Moved in to a friends basement.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;32. Fell in love 3 times in a row and got smashed 3 times in a row. (I know how to choose em)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;33. Fostered a dog for 2 weeks. (Senor)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;34. Worked at a tv station.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;35. Lived in Cincinnati&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;36. Learned texas holdem.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;37. Said goodbye to a home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;38. Cried because my cat was my only good friend&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;39. watched 10 years fly by.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;40. Doubted myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;41. Tried to start my own company&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;42. Traveled to DC and trooped around in the freezing rain to sight see while everyone else wussed out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;43. Choreographed half of a show &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;44. gained 30 lbs, some muscle&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;45. Got in a car wreck.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;46. Spent New Years in Vegas 2 times.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;47. Bought an Ipod for my own birthday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;48. got stood up on my birthday 2 times&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;49. Flew first class for free&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;50. Discovered text messaging&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;51. Joined and improv trouppe&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;52. Watched a dog chase a duck about a quarter mile&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;53. Had all night Starcraft parties.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;54. bought a mac. (everyone should)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;55. Broke a finger during a sword fight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;56. Actually stayed in a class after the teacher rolled her eyes at me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;57. Voted for someone not on the ballot (Mitt Romney)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;58. Read the Declaration of Independence&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;59. Read the Book of Mormon 9 times&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;60. Ignored my 10 year class reunion. Actually replied to the invite "hell no"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;61. Got a speeding ticket.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;62. Been saved by an Angel&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;63. Camped out for Lord of the Rings, Return of the King.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;64. Camped out for Star Wars II&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;65. Watched my truck burn down.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;66. Had a fit of Karaoke&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;67. Sang in SUU Idol and didnt make it past the 1st round.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;68. got 2nd place at NATS in Las Vegas 2 times.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;69. Went to 6 flags.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;70. Lost my sex drive&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;71. Had my arms and neck waxed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;72. Painted my nails cause I was so artsy cool&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;73. Took Karate classes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;74. Competed in a sound design competition&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;75. Forgot lyrics on stage. (like drinking acid death)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;76. Found gray hairs in my head.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;77. Went whitewater rafting 2 times&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;78. Decided that people ruin other peoples lives.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;79. Weaned myself from mountain dew.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;80. Worked as a vynl siding construction worker.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;81. Saw Stxy and Reo Speedwagon in concert&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;82. Went to my Grandmas funeral &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;83. Saw Columbine on the news&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;84. Watched the 2nd Iraq war unfold.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;85. Watched America vote someone they didn't know in to the presidency.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;86. became financially independent (yeah right, what a joke, help me I'm drowning)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;87. Nurtured a grapevine&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;88. Took out my endowments&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;89. Been so confused about life that I stopped functioning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;90. Started a blog.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;91. Stalked a beauty queen cause she wouldn't return my phone calls&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;92. Saw Blue Man Group&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;93. Regained my love for football and basketball&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;94. Realized theater wastes your time. (beware)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;95. Downloaded and watched a lot of tv &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;96. Was in a chamber choir for 3 years (best college experience I had)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;97. Borrowed money from someone not in my family&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;98. Played spin the bottle&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;99. had 10 birthdays, another one in a week&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-9023806100419553890?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/9023806100419553890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=9023806100419553890' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/9023806100419553890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/9023806100419553890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2009/07/99-things-ive-done-since-high-school.html' title='99 things I&apos;ve done since High School'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-391324817705667028</id><published>2009-06-12T02:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T02:45:02.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Priority World Wide INC.</title><content type='html'>Friend of mine (rather an acquaintance) basically has posted on facebook that he is gay and has come out and is mad at everyone for not accepting gay marriage and basically also told everyone that the forecast is "gay marriage whether you like it or not".  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I've seen the birthing pains of gay closet exit-ers and have seen how raging they get. Its not a pretty sight. It usually follows a lot of debate of gay marriage and traditional marriage and the "science" that follows it.  That is fine and all, but man is it old. It gets old so fast and at this point in my life, I don't want to hear it. Frankly I think it is a waste of time at this point in our nations history, for the powers that be are trying to strip us of our freedoms right in front of our eyes and sooner than later, It wont be America anymore, states wont have their sovereignty and the definition of marriage will not be up for debate anymore. And the embarrassing thing about it is that half of the country got duped in to voting that evil in to office. Well, fool me once, shame on country, fool me twice...ya see, you don't get fooled more than once!  Its a done deal, and I am afraid that I will not be able to live a life I have dreamed of since my youth, all because people chose to be ignorant and not define a mans character, but define his color. (didn't we just spend the last 80 years trying to get away from that?) Boo! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, bravo for gay marriage activists! Good for you! Fight for what you want! At least you are taking the time to fight for your cause.  Well guess what, and this may be a huge pill to swallow... you shouldn't be worrying about yourself right now, like you have been for all your lifetime. Our country's crumbling. Wickedness is rampant. We cant even get boys to grow up to be responsible adults with straight couples, or split couples. Christ is coming...going to cleanse the world with fire... meek inherit the earth...etc etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Debate about the topic divides us and creates a lot of animosity on the gay side, lots of frustration and worry on the straight side. Why is that???!!! I don't understand that one bit. "See it my way! See it my way!" I do. Now you see it my way! Oh wait, you really don't care about my way do you. What if my way is the best way? You really don't care do you?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I just have a question to sum it up: What is the worst sin involved in this scenario: Homosexuality? or Pride? And does one perpetuate the other, or vice versa?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;God knows. But deep down, you do to.&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/5845681102712066721-391324817705667028?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/391324817705667028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=391324817705667028' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/391324817705667028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/391324817705667028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2009/06/priority-world-wide-inc.html' title='Priority World Wide INC.'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-440705447860948475</id><published>2009-06-02T23:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T23:57:01.113-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons'/><title type='text'>20 things I've learned during the recession</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;1. When the economy is crumbling, hire somebody that has experience balancing a budget. 2. Never take free money. Its never free. 3. Freedom is fleeting lately. 4. 2 party systems are for chumps. 5. Getting a job just to have the business go under 2 months later sucks. 6. Credit cards are a nice bandage. 7. I own a part of a lot of banks, car companies, and mortgaging firms but I don't get any say when I want to sell them. 8. The government is not in the business of running businesses. 9. The government secretly is in the business of running businesses. 10.  Look at what the other hand is doing, always! 11. Socialism is scary. 12. Nepotism is rampant. (lawyers giving lawyers jobs) 13. People are kind. 14. Empathy breaks housing markets. 15. Latina's have better judgement than all White men. Period! 16. We don't have the best firefighters managing firefighting because of affirmative action. (thank you empathy. see 14) 17. I'm never moving to California. 18. Your XBOX 360 will kill your job search. 19. Democrats didn't know what "change" really meant. 20. Theater is a dumb degree to have when trying to get a job.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-440705447860948475?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/440705447860948475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=440705447860948475' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/440705447860948475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/440705447860948475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2009/06/20-things-ive-learned-during-recession.html' title='20 things I&apos;ve learned during the recession'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-5917245466830363041</id><published>2009-05-17T02:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T02:25:23.577-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who is this Clown?!</title><content type='html'>I cant believe that the guy who wrote the budget that would put us TRILLIONS of dollars in to debt came out and said on thursday: "This debt is unsustainable..."&lt;div&gt;Who is this guy? Is he a freakin puppet? Does he not let the right hand know what the left hand doeth? All you can really do is shake your head, but I really need to slap someone after hearing that...that....poo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-5917245466830363041?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/5917245466830363041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=5917245466830363041' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/5917245466830363041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/5917245466830363041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2009/05/who-is-this-clown.html' title='Who is this Clown?!'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-8465486086689239987</id><published>2009-05-05T03:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T03:42:32.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Prosperity in Creativity</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "&gt;Prosperity in Creativity&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Where does it come from?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Is it in a shoe, or a hat, or a cat or a, gnat?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Is it in a light wind behind you that you don't notice till you aren't paying attention?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Does it creep up on you like salamanders?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Does it fall from the sky like a pie in your eye?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;What does it smell like?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Is it rancid with reason or renounced with rhyme?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Is it sweet with success?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Is it under your morning breath pillow case?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Does it evade perfume?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Who has it now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Is it a ball being tossed from blonde to brunette and back to the black?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Is it kept in a silver sliver or a slithering saunter?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Did God eject it into the atmosphere just out of vertical reach,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;or did satan hide it behind the bottle of Jack Daniel's?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Where did it go?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Did it sink, swim, saunter, or sprint away?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Did it disguise itself with a number in your bank account, or shrink itself to the biggest amount?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Did you prosper when we weren't looking upon you or have you withdrawn till the time is right with heavenly light to illuminate your might?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Did you come and go; heck if I know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Dear Creativity, please send your prosperity. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;etc...etc&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-8465486086689239987?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/8465486086689239987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=8465486086689239987' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/8465486086689239987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/8465486086689239987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2009/05/prosperity-in-creativity.html' title='Prosperity in Creativity'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-7924740713090217651</id><published>2009-03-17T01:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T01:58:16.659-07:00</updated><title type='text'>sexual minority</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;Sexual Minority: I noticed on the program for the Larimae project (sp?) that there was an add for support of sexual minorities. What does that include? I guess it included Homosexuals, transvestites, transgender individuals, and other such people? I am not entirely sure.   What makes a sexual minority? Is it purely sexual preference or does it constitute not having sex or partaking in felatio (sp?) as well? I would imagine so, and hope that it would for those groups of people, whom have not had sexual intercourse or of the like, are growing to be the minority these days. I believe that its almost always been like that cause were all "heathens" and cant "control" ourselves. Most people fit that mold.   So, akin to abstinence before marriage, would people who are faithful to their spouse a sexual minority? What about polygamists, do they get to be a sexual minority?  Where is the line drawn? I really don't get it.  Sexual minority. Define it for me cause it seems too broad to me.  On a similar note: I have come to the conclusion that it is ok to love whom you want to love.  I have always believed that you have the right to love and be loved but I know that there are many out there whom don't want some to love because of sexual preference.   Note that I prescribe to "acts of Homosexuality are bad" but i think the catch there is "sexuality". Not knowing off hand what sexuality is defined as, I would figure that it would be ok for a man to love a man, or a woman to love a woman, without having sex. Rough deal? Yes. Rewarding, definitely.  Lets face it; anyone can do without sex. You can, don't lie. Its like a bonus prize. But if you love someone, isn't caring for them, nurturing them, putting them first in your life reward enough? Debatable to some. I think the older you get, the less you care about sex, the less important sex becomes, the more you realize what life is all about. Its not sex. Its love. So...Does my last thought put me in the sexual minority?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-7924740713090217651?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/7924740713090217651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=7924740713090217651' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/7924740713090217651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/7924740713090217651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2009/03/sexual-minority.html' title='sexual minority'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-7552095731484818305</id><published>2009-03-15T02:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T02:16:29.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mad Money</title><content type='html'>I just got done watching the Daily Show with Jon Stewart.  If anyone hasn't seen the episode where he attempts to tear apart Jim Cramer from Mad Money on CNBC, you should take a look at it and form an opinion.  &lt;div&gt;Not being a fan of Jon Stewart has been a specialty to me.  It is not hard for me to think of him as an arrogant man with an uncanny way of cutting nice, polite people off when they are trying to rebuttal their point, and then smear there face in crap.  I saw him do it to presidential candidate Mike Huckabee, and now Jim Cramer.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jon brought up a point that I caught with my logically trained receptors of truth and, in my mind, turned it against him.  " Shouldn't you have been warning us about what was going on with these huge gambles in the market?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought to myself, "No". then I didn't know if that was right.  And I'll tell you why:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. People are free, in a free market, to buy, sell, trade at any rate they want to, as long as it is not illegal.  They are FREE to do this. That is the beauty of America. We are free to act for ourselves, and there isn't anything people should be able to do, as long as you are not breaking the law.  Now, I don't understand real estate very well, so I do not know if the big CEO's of the huge companies that have recently went belly up and asked for bail out money have done anything wrong.  Which brings me to my next point...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. If these people didn't break the law, should they be indicted?  It seems to me that they are stealing from the American people and are getting away with it.  Should they reap what they are sewing?  I definitely think so.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, my main points that I wanted to get out was, Jon Stewart was unfair to Jim Cramer. He brought him on the show to brow beat him about other peoples actions, and blame him for not revealing the truth to the rest of the world.  And that AIG, Freddy Mac  and company and anyone else who has gambled, misusing american citizens trust, should maybe be convicted. maybe. I'm not sure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In other news: It all starts in a garage.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-7552095731484818305?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/7552095731484818305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=7552095731484818305' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/7552095731484818305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/7552095731484818305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2009/03/mad-money.html' title='Mad Money'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-9044198111346834961</id><published>2009-03-10T03:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T18:23:00.128-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Luke Unplugged</title><content type='html'>I think the thing I struggle with the most is being accepted by people I know.  I feel sooo lonely most of the time and I think it stems from being an only child and constantly trying to reach out to surround myself with people that care about me (which are few I guess).   I have a base of people that I love and that seem to love me back. Then I have people I believe to be friends, who treat me like they love me when I am around, but when I am not, I never hear from them, even when I reach out to continue a friendship.  Then there are those whom I know, who I don't put stock in because they could care less, and I guess I could too. Even my blog only has 3 followers, and two are obligated to follow cause if they don't... Well, nothing really. Only one comment on my blogs. This after I invited over 200 people to follow.&lt;div&gt;So, what is it about myself that repulses people?  Do I come off too strong?  Do I push everyone away? Why am I not part of the crowd?  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok, so when I wrote that last question just now I kind of got glad in my heart because I am very different from the crowd. I am that black sheep in the corner most of the time. The difference between the black sheep and the crowd is the whole group is called "crowd" the other individual gets a cool name like "black sheep" (also a rap group in mid 90's).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even if I am unique and I stand outside of the crowd for the rest of my life I will probably continue to be outcast, involuntarily, by others. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just don't get it. It hurts, and it makes me sad.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe I'll just give everyone a collection of 25 classic dvd's as a token of our relationship. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; white-space: pre; "&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt; var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www."); document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E")); &lt;/script&gt; &lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt; try { var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-7854573-1"); pageTracker._trackPageview(); } catch(err) {}&lt;/script&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-9044198111346834961?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/9044198111346834961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=9044198111346834961' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/9044198111346834961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/9044198111346834961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2009/03/luke-unplugged.html' title='Luke Unplugged'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-8166446098171227119</id><published>2009-03-05T03:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T04:01:34.757-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ok ok ok... Here's my point:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jesus was not a government; so when he healed the sick, caused the blind to see and "hung out with the lepers" he was not emulating anything a government should do for the people. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jesus Christ gathered followers, showed them how to be charitable, and then sent those who were willing to be charitable on the Lords errand. He commanded "feed my lambs" which I am positive had more than one meaning, and the volunteers went out and donated "feed" of many kinds to many different people in need.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our government is not a charity organization and should not be giving hand outs. It does no good except to the recipient, but even then benefits them just for a little while, until they grasp to the notion that there is plunder to be had, and that the plunder comes from a renewable source. Then the system is shot for they are now asking for and even expecting hand outs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jesus taught people how to be charitable. He did not take from the rich and give to the poor. He asked people to take from themselves and give to the less fortunate. If done properly, it benefits all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I guess my real point is that we fail when government is our charity organization, because then we are required to give, instead of giving out of the goodness of our hearts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On a separate note...How are world leaders notified when they are going to be engaged in war? Are they? Are some world leaders more polite than others and send an email before they invade a country? What's on that email? "To whom it may concern, we will be invading your country around 4pm your time. Hope to see you then. Warm Regards, Canada." And what if you forgot to check your email that day? Boy, whomever Canada was invading was screwed.&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/5845681102712066721-8166446098171227119?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/8166446098171227119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=8166446098171227119' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/8166446098171227119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/8166446098171227119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2009/03/ok-ok-ok.html' title=''/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-1101358719626651731</id><published>2009-02-19T01:18:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T01:18:57.899-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Complacent talker</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; "&gt;I'm tired of being complacent at school. The problem is there is SO much to divert you from working on your dreams. There are so many excuses to help you along the way. A big problem is that Art is diverting me from creating Art. Odd isn't it? My bane is my love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to resolve to do more, to be better, to run faster, to set goals higher, and quit talking about stuff and do it instead. Its time to live my dreams. I'm ready. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I call upon us all to set higher goals, (set goals for that matter) and shoot for the stars. Let us be the instigators of action, of politics, of thought, of emotion in our troubled societies life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I call upon YOU.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get on up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now who wants to see me do a big ass stunt?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-1101358719626651731?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/1101358719626651731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=1101358719626651731' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/1101358719626651731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/1101358719626651731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2009/02/complacent-talker.html' title='The Complacent talker'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-7374267426693068554</id><published>2009-01-29T01:09:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T01:09:52.892-08:00</updated><title type='text'>so...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; "&gt;I got to know things! I got to know! I watch the news and today on CNN they ran a story on AIG and the 700trillion dollar stimulus package that went through the senate and the house last november ish time. I was very disappointed when that happened and I wrote a blog about the government trying to make us look one way while they take care of something they want to take care of. Creating excuses and making problems to clean up the way they please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I got to know: ARE WE IN A RECESSION or ARE WE NOT?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The story that CNN ran illustrated how AIG is now giving out bonuses to their employees to be an incentive to stay. One analyst said "Where are these people going to go? I just dont buy it." I dont either....wait....it gets even better: when evened out to a per person ratio, the 'please stay' bonus' would average out to 1 MILLION DOLLARS PER PERSON!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is our BAILOUT MONEY. OUR TAX DOLLARS-GOING TO BONUSES FOR EMPLOYEES THAT HELPED SCREW UP THE COMPANY, CREATE A MORTGAGE CRISIS, AND THRUST THE ECONOMY IN TO A 10 YEAR HOLE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You've got to be kidding me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I got to know...Recession? you are? you arent? you're a crisis? you're not? you think were all gullible? you dont? wtf? no wtf?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will end the rant with a question; does a recession exist if we ignore that it is there? If we just cary on with our every day lives, keep spending, keep buying and working... will it really exist?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stimulus package that was passed by the house today equates to 800 billion of our tax payer dollars. in that package is a stimulus check for the NEA (national endowment for the arts) Should we take it? Should we tough it out and try and be 'creative' and get OURSELVES out of any holes we may suddenly be in? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wake up America!!&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/5845681102712066721-7374267426693068554?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/7374267426693068554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=7374267426693068554' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/7374267426693068554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/7374267426693068554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2009/01/so.html' title='so...'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-3624838205660653367</id><published>2009-01-08T02:36:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T02:37:28.140-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the sign that couldn't</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;A letter I recently wrote to the signpost.  Dear Editor,  Walking in the extreme snowfall on campus the other day, I was impressed by a sign next to the A-9 parking lot that read "Do not make a path"  To my left and right were three feet high snow banks and I thought to myself "Well, great, now that I've been asked not to trail blaze, what should I do? Go around and conform?"  So what did I do? I chose to blaze my own trail through the white shoveled drift, and to make a point, I tread my size 10 1/2's  right next to the sign.  Looking back on the experience, I am disappointed in whomever chose to print and post such a sign on a campus of higher learning.  I hope that all wanting to make a difference in the world at this university would share in my disgust and mentally spit on the sign.  While I am sure that the individual making the sign was not privy to such a response being subtly hurled at the dubious posting, I would strongly suggest to Weber State University to make a decision: Keep the sign up, or tear the sign down.  I say keep the sign up because it did encourage me to pioneer my own way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-3624838205660653367?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/3624838205660653367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=3624838205660653367' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/3624838205660653367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/3624838205660653367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2009/01/sign-that-couldnt.html' title='the sign that couldn&apos;t'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-6813848366605134242</id><published>2009-01-08T01:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T02:03:16.551-08:00</updated><title type='text'>14 minutes left</title><content type='html'>Reading up on some of the people I know, I realized tonight that I am thankful for those things which I am NOT given.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The headline in my mind read: If you find yourself in the middle of success, you have about 14 minutes left...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I discourage easy, and it has always been by the sweat of my brow from which I have gained success or seen any fruit from my labors or talent.  So when I read up on someone who has been given a few professional acting gigs straight out of high school, I think to myself "What would I be like if given the same thing?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One thing is evident; It would've prolonged my missionary experience.  It probably would've gone to my head and my collegiate experience would've been cut short. I would not have the breadth of knowledge that I do now.  That loaf would've been given to someone else. I don't think I like that idea.  So I will continue to stick with what I've got, being periodically discouraged by luck, and firm firm roots upon which I built my own treehouse.  That person has unknowingly forfeited their firm foundation.  And great will be the fall thereof.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel sorry for this person.  I feel bad for when it crashes down on them, or more likely, they hit that ceiling of training and then slam into the floor again because they were whisked away by the success bug.  It is a bad thing to have too much success too early in life.  If you're given everything, then you learn nothing.  It is from your losses that you learn your lessons.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One instance that really bugged me until I had a moment of clarity was on my mission...(warning, mission story) I was ticked that I was never promoted to more than a District Leader.  I felt like I could and, surely would, be a Zone Leader, even an Assistant to the President, for I was a hard worker, a little more mature, and a quick study.  It wasn't until my last zone conference that I understood that I was not to be either of these because along the way I had gained as much, maybe even more, knowledge as any of these people in these positions, and could offer advice to them instead of them to me.  So, I know there is a reason for things working out the way they do, you just have to remember that it is all under control.  And be thankful that you are not given success right away, for you may not need it to succeed.  (sounds stupid, but it makes sense.  I promise)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, finally, my record feels like 3-11, but I've learned more than I could've if I was 14 and 0. The underdog gets the worm!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ps. the password to the treehouse is "panty"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&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/5845681102712066721-6813848366605134242?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/6813848366605134242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=6813848366605134242' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/6813848366605134242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/6813848366605134242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2009/01/14-minutes.html' title='14 minutes left'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845681102712066721.post-3072197002671427906</id><published>2008-12-07T00:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T00:54:17.318-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Heads Up!</title><content type='html'>Today I met Glenn Beck.  I was in the Deseret Book in the Layton Hills Mall and bought his book and was the last person in line to shake his hand as he scribbled a few initials in my book.  I walked away with a smile on my face cause I really enjoy listening to him and I've never really met any celebrities.  He would be on top of my list.  Being the last person in line presents a predicament: Do you try and start conversation about something you want to talk about with him and risk being shoved away by security or do you just do your thing, smile and say thank you?&lt;div&gt;I chose the latter.  It really wasn't about the autograph, or about the book, it was about the person.  You want to say "Hey Glenn! Its me! Luke!  Dont you remember me?" Because you feel like you know the person from watching them on tv, but to them you are just another smiling face. Another bloke that has a book in his hand.  Meh.  Live and learn.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think I was mostly frustrated with the entire experience because of the response I got after my 3 seconds with him.  I got "thumr borumr" in very very soft tones.  Now I understand that he talks for a living and that he was probably saving his voice, but it gave me a bitter sweet thought about the experience.  I just wanted some diction.  Its not too much to ask for!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I bought your book!  Give me one audible word at least!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5845681102712066721-3072197002671427906?l=millquas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/feeds/3072197002671427906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5845681102712066721&amp;postID=3072197002671427906' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/3072197002671427906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5845681102712066721/posts/default/3072197002671427906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://millquas.blogspot.com/2008/12/heads-up.html' title='Heads Up!'/><author><name>Quas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17237719987520424449</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nd1HFWOC3Yw/TD_74E1PuYI/AAAAAAAAABw/lj0FRx7rO-g/S220/12396117.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
