<?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-20011946</id><updated>2011-04-21T11:00:41.435-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Polar Expedition</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polarexpedition.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20011946/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polarexpedition.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Raquel Rodriguez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01926880489675726627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>6</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20011946.post-114563616384225732</id><published>2006-04-21T08:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-21T09:16:04.253-07:00</updated><title type='text'>wisconsin death trip</title><content type='html'>the sound of the wind rustling the cottonwood leaves.  it's one o'clock in the morning and i'm the only one to hear this sound.  it's like water, coins, falling. a secret message if only i can shut the fuck up long enough i will understand this code, the meaning of The Birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The message is...."it's all good..." thank you hippie cottonwood leaves. tellin' me to chill the fuck out, be okay with who i am.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;contentment is a process and i'm happy to report i've been stuck in its feedback loop for a while now.  something about watching the sun set every night.  listening to the breeze blow by.  chatting, not over-analyzing, taking things at face value, being real, authentic.  getting up in peoples' shit and backing off. we're just all people making our ways thru the world, trying to work things out best we can&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! wisconsin death trip!  you're real and surreal and i'm glad i know that people were always people.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20011946-114563616384225732?l=polarexpedition.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polarexpedition.blogspot.com/feeds/114563616384225732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20011946&amp;postID=114563616384225732' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20011946/posts/default/114563616384225732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20011946/posts/default/114563616384225732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polarexpedition.blogspot.com/2006/04/wisconsin-death-trip.html' title='wisconsin death trip'/><author><name>Raquel Rodriguez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01926880489675726627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20011946.post-114470492130285070</id><published>2006-04-10T14:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-10T14:35:21.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the smell of cedar trees</title><content type='html'>is the most beautiful smell of all.  I took my dog for a hike yesterday in the east sandias and was overwelmed by the smell of cedars. it was sunny and beautiful. there were these moths that kept flying around me and pup and trying to land on us.  they had roll-out-tongues.  Sandia is spanish for watermelon.  When the sun is setting the light reflects off the sandias and makes them appear to be pink. even though i'm poor and kind of crazy and about to turn 27, there's still no other place i'd rather be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20011946-114470492130285070?l=polarexpedition.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polarexpedition.blogspot.com/feeds/114470492130285070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20011946&amp;postID=114470492130285070' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20011946/posts/default/114470492130285070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20011946/posts/default/114470492130285070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polarexpedition.blogspot.com/2006/04/smell-of-cedar-trees.html' title='the smell of cedar trees'/><author><name>Raquel Rodriguez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01926880489675726627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20011946.post-114116087242932359</id><published>2006-02-28T13:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-28T13:07:52.440-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Great Unifying Metatheory: Trying Not to Die OR Rawk Show</title><content type='html'>Where do all the hipsters come from?  There are never enough cars or bikes or scooters or buses or subways to account for them all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think they're like fungii.  They travel as spores do through the air mating with other spores, taking root on the undersides of logs, in basements, and rockclubs.  Each one a variation bearing some resemblance to the last.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hipsters kind of look like mushrooms, too.  All big-headed with small frames and skinny legs, moppish hair.  Forests and fields and meadows filled with related species....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20011946-114116087242932359?l=polarexpedition.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polarexpedition.blogspot.com/feeds/114116087242932359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20011946&amp;postID=114116087242932359' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20011946/posts/default/114116087242932359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20011946/posts/default/114116087242932359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polarexpedition.blogspot.com/2006/02/great-unifying-metatheory-trying-not.html' title='A Great Unifying Metatheory: Trying Not to Die OR Rawk Show'/><author><name>Raquel Rodriguez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01926880489675726627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20011946.post-113901246590272101</id><published>2006-02-03T15:54:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-05T17:45:26.576-08:00</updated><title type='text'>little white gloves</title><content type='html'>when i was young my mom had a pair of white kid gloves she kept wrapped in tissue paper in her dresser drawer. they were from her first communion so they were small and old and smelled like a tannery.  they went up to the middle of my forearms and had a lace-like cut out pattern. i liked putting them on and putting my hands over my nose and inhaling deeply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there were also things on top of her dresser that were fun to put on as well-- a string of venitian glass beads, her swan earrings (which she has since given to me), earplugs (ew) and a ring her grandma gave her for her high school graduation.  my brother and i didn't often go into my parents' bedroom because though they slept in separate rooms they pretended to sleep together and i always felt a little weird about the whole thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;later after they got divorced &amp; we moved to Colorado with our mom, i was enrolled in a summer acting camp.  my age group (10-11) would be performing 'My Heart Belongs to Daddy', the Marilyn Monroe standard from 'Some Like it Hot'.  looking back, the song selection seems vaguely inappropriate... but nonetheless we were performing it and we needed to harvest props from our parents' houses such as parasols, feather boas, &amp; little white gloves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for the duration of this acting camp, i never felt like i fit in.  the other kids who were participating in it all had lots of money, went to school together in Boulder, and several of them had been prepped from a young age to behave like starletts, both on stage &amp; off.  so i was insecure, to say the least.  but then i remembered these really cool gloves that my mom had.  so i brought them in and the teacher thought they were great.... and proceeded to give them to another girl to wear.  the reason behind this is that there were people grouped in certain places in the choreography (oh yes, there was choreography) where all the girls had to be wearing the same thing.  but i was still pissed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now i work as a production assistant at a press where i scan photographs and i have to wear little white gloves to keep the photos clean. (probably a good thing since i habitually have peanut butter, grease, dog saliva or some such thing on my hands.) and since i'm not allowed to make personal phone calls while scanning i have plenty of time to stare at these gloves on my hands and space out....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20011946-113901246590272101?l=polarexpedition.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polarexpedition.blogspot.com/feeds/113901246590272101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20011946&amp;postID=113901246590272101' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20011946/posts/default/113901246590272101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20011946/posts/default/113901246590272101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polarexpedition.blogspot.com/2006/02/little-white-gloves.html' title='little white gloves'/><author><name>Raquel Rodriguez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01926880489675726627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20011946.post-113780894862606180</id><published>2006-01-20T17:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-20T18:02:28.646-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Grocery Shopping in New Mexico vs. Grocery Shopping in California</title><content type='html'>I drove to Albuquerque straight from Berkeley.  It took about 16 hours.  At hour 13 I began to halluncinate.  But really it was all worth it because now when I go grocery shopping it is an extremely pleasant experience.  During the year &amp; a half I lived in California I never got used to the demolition derby mentality of people at the grocery store.  I literally would get into fights with people nearly every time I went.  People would bang into my body with their shopping cart, blatantly cut ahead of me in line, PUSH me, shove ahead of me, &amp; on &amp; on &amp; on.  I found this to be quite unpleasant.  And I've got a mouth on me.  So fights would ensue...... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first day I was here I went to the grocery store. gloriously cracked out, of course.  And people said, "Excuse me" &amp; smiled &amp; said "Hello" &amp; were friendly &amp; affable.  It was incredible!  I was so excited!  I wanted to hug them all &amp; dance around the aisles &amp; make up a song about why New Mexico isn't half bad after all.  I realized that I had developed all of these odd shopping behaviors that are no longer necessary--- like leaving my cart somewhere &amp; racing around psychotically gathering items on my list and not making eye contact with anyone.  The best part?  I only waited in line about 30 seconds, rather than the California mean time of 20 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's good to be back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20011946-113780894862606180?l=polarexpedition.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polarexpedition.blogspot.com/feeds/113780894862606180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20011946&amp;postID=113780894862606180' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20011946/posts/default/113780894862606180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20011946/posts/default/113780894862606180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polarexpedition.blogspot.com/2006/01/grocery-shopping-in-new-mexico-vs.html' title='Grocery Shopping in New Mexico vs. Grocery Shopping in California'/><author><name>Raquel Rodriguez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01926880489675726627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20011946.post-113502443931061651</id><published>2005-12-19T12:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-19T12:33:59.316-08:00</updated><title type='text'>things my stomach REFUSES to digest</title><content type='html'>REALLY acidic coffee&lt;br /&gt;ice cream&lt;br /&gt;cream cheese, any flavor&lt;br /&gt;large quantities of legumes&lt;br /&gt;chinese food of any sort&lt;br /&gt;heavy whipping cream&lt;br /&gt;half 'n' half&lt;br /&gt;zachary's pizza (even a small 1 " slice)&lt;br /&gt;hard alcohol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but extremely spicy food is fine.  so if you're planning on cooking me anything, please do not include the aforementioned items.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20011946-113502443931061651?l=polarexpedition.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polarexpedition.blogspot.com/feeds/113502443931061651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20011946&amp;postID=113502443931061651' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20011946/posts/default/113502443931061651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20011946/posts/default/113502443931061651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polarexpedition.blogspot.com/2005/12/things-my-stomach-refuses-to-digest.html' title='things my stomach REFUSES to digest'/><author><name>Raquel Rodriguez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01926880489675726627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
