<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?><!-- generator="WordPress/2.9.2" -->
<rss version="0.92">
<channel>
	<title>Hello, My Name Is Jennifer</title>
	<link>http://www.hellomynameisjennifer.com</link>
	<description>...I talk about things sometimes.</description>
	<lastBuildDate>Mon, 19 Jul 2010 15:19:58 +0000</lastBuildDate>
	<docs>http://backend.userland.com/rss092</docs>
	<language>en</language>
	
	<item>
		<title>i realize i never use this anymore</title>
		<description><![CDATA[It's true, I do.  But for some reason, this irrational part of me refuses to just not have an internet blog.  I say I'll use it and blog more with no vigor.  It's a complete lie.  But I do, however, like to spontaneously have it updated in bursts of days followed [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://www.hellomynameisjennifer.com/?p=270</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>it&#8217;s time for something rather serious</title>
		<description><![CDATA[I think sometimes that I forget that God is a god of empathy - I forget that He is a god that feels sorrow over our pain.  I think this is unusual, or rather, it's not the classical portrayal of God.  He is typically portrayed as all-knowing, all-understanding.  All-righteous and terrible.  [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://www.hellomynameisjennifer.com/?p=266</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>well this kinda took a while</title>
		<description><![CDATA[


]]></description>
		<link>http://www.hellomynameisjennifer.com/?p=254</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>omg countdown time!</title>
		<description><![CDATA[I have three (that's right....three) days of class left.  Then I am done.  Forever.  Completely forever.  Outside of that two year counseling internship thing.  But with school, yes.  Forever.
This short story I'm writing is going weird and unexpected places.  I'm really glad when I'll be done with this [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://www.hellomynameisjennifer.com/?p=245</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>well&#8230;this is unexpected</title>
		<description><![CDATA[So I'm graduating in three weeks.  No, really.  I am.  Whenever I've said this to people, I've gotten "are you sure?," "you're always graduating," and/or "it's about time" or some variant thereof.  Thank you, friends and family, for your vast and unwavering support.  It's been appreciated these past nine lonnnng [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://www.hellomynameisjennifer.com/?p=241</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>rise and sing, rise and sing</title>
		<description><![CDATA[
eLife Easter, 2010.  I run the main camera.  
The media team is composed of some of the best people ever and I'm fortunate to serve with them.  Easter was amazing - He died and did rise and will come again.
]]></description>
		<link>http://www.hellomynameisjennifer.com/?p=240</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>ohhh i got it all working, kinda</title>
		<description><![CDATA[I somehow broke my Razer gaming mouse - it's still functional, thankfully.  When I say "I broke it" what I really mean is that I was doing something stupid when trying to clean it and bent back the left click button too far and cracked the casing like a wafer.  It's just cosmetically [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://www.hellomynameisjennifer.com/?p=236</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>writers are liars</title>
		<description><![CDATA[I'm pretty tired of writing poetry, I've decided.  It's ironically tiresome to pretend to be emotionally burdened in ways that I am actually not.  I'm not a writer and this poetry class is exhausting.
My boyfriend took me to the museum not too long ago and they had this exhibit of wood sculptures that [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://www.hellomynameisjennifer.com/?p=230</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>detritus cycle</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Standing in her debris,
I remember when I left home for good.
I was seventeen
slender, lithely moving
through the maze of boxes and bags,
piled high and obstinately saved
"to keep memories in"
my mother said, in response
to the adult caseworker's inquiry
as I slipped out the door and far away
from my mother's compulsive needs.
Ten years later, she left a history in [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://www.hellomynameisjennifer.com/?p=229</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>1983</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Twenty-six years later
I’m still a reminder
of aeroplanes and one long summer night.
My mom used to tell me stories of her youth
like her aging was my fault.
“I’m sorry,” I’d say
in the conjuncture
of conversational silence and the background sound
of the blaring television and automobiles
that I was not on or in,
(I wished I was)
while she feigned
careful apathy at [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://www.hellomynameisjennifer.com/?p=225</link>
			</item>
</channel>
</rss>
