<?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-25804535</id><updated>2011-04-21T19:11:08.878-07:00</updated><title type='text'>cameochristine x3</title><subtitle type='html'>I want to be remembered as the girl who always smiles even when her heart was broken, the girl who could brighten up your day even if she couldn't brighten her own...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>cameo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07162091255259595998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://a787.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/52/l_62b775113d8e942f181e70733bb5b53a.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25804535.post-5220683714458097185</id><published>2007-03-02T11:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-02T12:03:49.675-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I know what it’s like to love someone with all your &lt;strong&gt;heart&lt;/strong&gt;, what a boys touch can do to a girl. I know all those warm unexplainable feeling that rush through your body when he’s near, when he says your name, the sound of his voice or the mention of his name is enough to make you high. I know what it’s like to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;c o n s t a n t l y&lt;/span&gt; be thinking and dreaming of a boy, wanting to be with him all the time. I know what love is, and it’s funny that at that moment when everything seemed so perfect, like nothing could be more wonderful. His arms wrapped around my waist, his scent, &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;his hands in mine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;, that steady beat of his heart. The &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;promise&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;that this wasn’t one of those things that would end in a couple months. It was one of those moments when everything’s so perfect that you know there will never be a moment like it again. In that moment, every &lt;strong&gt;doubt&lt;/strong&gt; I had perished, all my worries &lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;faded&lt;/span&gt;, I was sure things would work, after all, I loved him and he said he loved me. But that was the last moment. No more "I love you", more promises, no more meeting in our &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;dreams&lt;/span&gt;, he’ll never run his fingers through my hair, &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;touch&lt;/span&gt; my face or hold me in his arms. I don’t hear his voice calling my name. We act as if we never knew each other, let alone "loved". Sometimes I think he must hate me now. I’m just another girl. But despite everything, all the stupid mistakes we made.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;                  I still love him.&lt;/em&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/25804535-5220683714458097185?l=cameouflage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/feeds/5220683714458097185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25804535&amp;postID=5220683714458097185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default/5220683714458097185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default/5220683714458097185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/2007/03/i-know-what-its-like-to-love-someone.html' title=''/><author><name>cameo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07162091255259595998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://a787.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/52/l_62b775113d8e942f181e70733bb5b53a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25804535.post-4222791772804162870</id><published>2007-02-23T15:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-23T15:53:42.061-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i'll stop loving you</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;i'll stop loving you, when diamonds never sparkle &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;and leaves cease to grow, when thunder doesn't &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;e c h o  and rivers do not flow. when &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;"&gt;hearts&lt;/span&gt; no longer &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;wonder and &lt;em&gt;hands are never held&lt;/em&gt;, when smiles are &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;only memories and hope is never felt. when trees &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;no longer blossom and stars refuse to shine, when &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;autumn has no &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;falling leaves&lt;/span&gt; and winter never dies, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;when time has no tomorrows and rainbows have &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;no hue, when God alone &lt;strong&gt;commands &lt;/strong&gt;me to, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;then &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;i'll stop loving you&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25804535-4222791772804162870?l=cameouflage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/feeds/4222791772804162870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25804535&amp;postID=4222791772804162870' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default/4222791772804162870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default/4222791772804162870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/2007/02/ill-stop-loving-you.html' title='i&apos;ll stop loving you'/><author><name>cameo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07162091255259595998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://a787.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/52/l_62b775113d8e942f181e70733bb5b53a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25804535.post-116464341327113668</id><published>2006-11-27T08:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-27T08:03:33.286-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Masquerade</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Masquerade&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hide behind this mask&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Covering all my hurt&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;With fake smiles and lies&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I hide behind this mask&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Deceiving those I know&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Replacing tears with laughter&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I hide behind this mask&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;When I am near you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hiding the truth&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;How you really make me feel&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I hide behind this mask&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So no one knows I'm broken&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No one sees the tears I cry&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I hide behind this mask&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pretending you don't matter&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Explaining that I don't care&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But the girl behind the mask&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Can't take it anymore&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Underneath the mask&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She is broken and lonely&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And in a desperate attempt&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;To ease this pain&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She ends the masquerade&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;by cameo christine&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25804535-116464341327113668?l=cameouflage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/feeds/116464341327113668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25804535&amp;postID=116464341327113668' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default/116464341327113668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default/116464341327113668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/2006/11/masquerade.html' title='Masquerade'/><author><name>cameo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07162091255259595998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://a787.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/52/l_62b775113d8e942f181e70733bb5b53a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25804535.post-115877203887650787</id><published>2006-09-20T09:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T10:07:18.880-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my bestest friend</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://myspace-537.vo.llnwd.net/01007/73/55/1007685537_l.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://myspace-537.vo.llnwd.net/01007/73/55/1007685537_l.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;best &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;adjective&lt;br /&gt;1.of the highest quality, excellence, or standing: the best work; the best students.&lt;br /&gt;2.most advantageous, suitable, or desirable: the best way. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;friend &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;noun&lt;br /&gt;1.a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.&lt;br /&gt;2.a person who gives assistance; patron; supporter: friends of the Boston Symphony.&lt;br /&gt;3.a person who is on good terms with another; a person who is not hostile: Who goes there? Friend or foe? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;best friend&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;n : the one friend who is closest to you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25804535-115877203887650787?l=cameouflage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/feeds/115877203887650787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25804535&amp;postID=115877203887650787' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default/115877203887650787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default/115877203887650787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/2006/09/my-bestest-friend.html' title='my bestest friend'/><author><name>cameo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07162091255259595998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://a787.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/52/l_62b775113d8e942f181e70733bb5b53a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25804535.post-115869813194039594</id><published>2006-09-19T13:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T10:28:39.783-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorrows</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sorrows &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cameo Christine&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you wondered in the backyard&lt;br /&gt;You searched for the perfect spot&lt;br /&gt;With a tear stained face&lt;br /&gt;You use your hands as a shovel&lt;br /&gt;You removed the fresh dirt&lt;br /&gt;Where you buried all your sorrows&lt;br /&gt;Placed them beneath the earth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With your hands you smothered dirt&lt;br /&gt;Covering the sadness you once knew&lt;br /&gt;The many tears you've cried&lt;br /&gt;The unbearable hurt you've felt&lt;br /&gt;As they vanish, burdens lifted from your heart&lt;br /&gt;The pain in your eyes is lost&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leaving footprints on the grave&lt;br /&gt;You walk through the picket gate&lt;br /&gt;And as it swings behind you&lt;br /&gt;That chapter of your life has ended&lt;br /&gt;Now you are broken but wiser and stronger&lt;br /&gt;And you think of the way your world once was&lt;br /&gt;Of the pain and the person you're leaving behind&lt;br /&gt;You swear on everything you believe&lt;br /&gt;That you wont let it happen again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25804535-115869813194039594?l=cameouflage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/feeds/115869813194039594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25804535&amp;postID=115869813194039594' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default/115869813194039594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default/115869813194039594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/2006/09/sorrows.html' title='Sorrows'/><author><name>cameo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07162091255259595998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://a787.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/52/l_62b775113d8e942f181e70733bb5b53a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25804535.post-115705167754313993</id><published>2006-08-31T12:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T13:20:24.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Never Have to Doubt Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Never Have to Doubt Again&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;cameo christine&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The night hid the girls small form&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Consealing her figure in the darkness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Stars glowed down in the empty world&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Heaven showered the earth with rain &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Raindrops lined her porceline face&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;What beauty she now found in life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Some change had overtaken her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;This new feeling of completness and undying love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She smiled and made the stars look dim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;and her sparkling eyes lightened up the night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;For so long she'd denied it afriad of being hurt&lt;br /&gt;So many times had she given her heart away&lt;br /&gt;And time after time it had been broken&lt;br /&gt;She'd been left abandoned and abused&lt;br /&gt;Untreasured and worthless&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he was different&lt;br /&gt;There was something about him&lt;br /&gt;Something she knew she could trust&lt;br /&gt;And though she didn't want to admit it&lt;br /&gt;She'd fallen for him fast&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So standing there in an open field&lt;br /&gt;Rain dripped off her flattened curls&lt;br /&gt;Her heart overflowing with a passion&lt;br /&gt;that she'd never known before&lt;br /&gt;It was then she knew she'd never have to doubt again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25804535-115705167754313993?l=cameouflage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/feeds/115705167754313993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25804535&amp;postID=115705167754313993' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default/115705167754313993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default/115705167754313993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/2006/08/never-have-to-doubt-again.html' title='Never Have to Doubt Again'/><author><name>cameo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07162091255259595998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://a787.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/52/l_62b775113d8e942f181e70733bb5b53a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25804535.post-114619480718951082</id><published>2006-04-27T20:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-25T17:42:04.810-07:00</updated><title type='text'>House</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7076/2699/1600/IMG_4404_1_1.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7076/2699/320/IMG_4404_1_1.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7076/2699/1600/IMG_4413_1_1.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7076/2699/320/IMG_4413_1_1.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7076/2699/1600/IMG_4421_1_1.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7076/2699/320/IMG_4421_1_1.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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/25804535-114619480718951082?l=cameouflage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/feeds/114619480718951082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25804535&amp;postID=114619480718951082' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default/114619480718951082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default/114619480718951082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/2006/04/house.html' title='House'/><author><name>cameo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07162091255259595998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://a787.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/52/l_62b775113d8e942f181e70733bb5b53a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25804535.post-114610785135490812</id><published>2006-04-26T19:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-23T07:16:16.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Prom</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7076/2699/1600/before%20prom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7076/2699/320/before%20prom.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;On Friday the 21st I went to a homeschool prom with my friend Aleigh... I have to say it was an interesting experience. The fun was all in getting ready, finding my dress, doing my nails, putting make-up on, doing my hair all fancy.. but then we got to the prom, and I began to regret it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My eyes scanned the room, searching for familiar faces, finding none... We sat down and anxiously waited for our dinner (I was very hungry considering I hadn't eaten since 12pm). They served us some salad around 7:30 it wasn't too bad, if you ignored the brown around the edges... our dinner was served around 8' o clock, I got London Broil... it was alright. But afterward my stomach hurt. So I texted Aleigh's parents to see if they could pick us up around 10, I was going to spend the night at her house, we thought we would have more fun watching a movie or something. They told us they'd come by around 10-10:30... I didn't feel like dancing, I didn't recognize any of the music, it sounded like something from a time machine. I went out into the lobby where a girl was playing a piano (and if you know me, you know I would much rather instrumental music). I called my mom told her about all the fun I was having, and told her that Aleigh's parents would come and get us soon.. I then found a couch, settled down, dialed Marissa's number and spent the rest of the night talking to my best friend... it was a little after 11' o clock when the cell phone died. I searched for Aleigh, wondering where her parents were.. they came and got us around 11:45 took us home to Aleigh's and then my mom picked me up..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's how prom went... nothing overwhelmingly exciting, I doubt I'll be remembered as the girl sitting in the lobby on the cell phone...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25804535-114610785135490812?l=cameouflage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/feeds/114610785135490812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25804535&amp;postID=114610785135490812' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default/114610785135490812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default/114610785135490812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/2006/04/prom.html' title='Prom'/><author><name>cameo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07162091255259595998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://a787.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/52/l_62b775113d8e942f181e70733bb5b53a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25804535.post-114468709640858320</id><published>2006-04-10T09:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-10T09:38:16.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wood Dance</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:78%;"&gt;The Wood Dance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;By Cameo Christine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:78%;"&gt;I gazed up at the canopy of trees. Wind violently hit my face. A tear dared to journay down my cold cheek. I tried to resist, but then freed the captive tears and gave into the fear. I was tired and lost. After wondering around for so long I couldn't remember anything but this strange wood. remaining light glowed through the leaves before being swallowed by the night. My heart beat wildly. Then I noticed a faint light escaping the dark. I glanced into the dark to find the stars danicing across the sky. A noise beside me attracted my attention, what I saw cause me to doubt my sanity. The trees had taken the form of man and were dancing. The wood seemed to transform into a grand ballroom and the trees, were great kings and queens. The stars were the lights that guided their steps across the brilliant dance floor, and the wind was an orchestra, playing a tune that was beautiful, yet melancholy. It made me want to smile and cry at the same time. The fear that had built up inside of my heart seemed to vanish and the ocean of tears dried up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25804535-114468709640858320?l=cameouflage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/feeds/114468709640858320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25804535&amp;postID=114468709640858320' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default/114468709640858320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default/114468709640858320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/2006/04/wood-dance.html' title='The Wood Dance'/><author><name>cameo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07162091255259595998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://a787.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/52/l_62b775113d8e942f181e70733bb5b53a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25804535.post-114468286668805921</id><published>2006-04-10T08:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-10T08:27:46.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ways To Maintain A Healthy Level of Insanity</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ways To Maintain A Healthy Level of Insanity:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1. At Lunch Time, Sit In Your Parked Car With Sunglasses on and point A Hair Dryer At Passing Cars. See If They Slow Down. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;2. Page Yourself Over The Intercom. Don't Disguise Your Voice. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;3. Every Time Someone Asks You To Do Something, Ask If They Want Fries with That. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;4. Put Your Garbage Can On Your Desk And Label It "In". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;5. Put Decaf In The Coffee Maker For 3 Weeks. Once Everyone Has Gotten Over Their Caffeine Addictions, Switch To Espresso. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;6. Finish all Your Sentences With "In Accordance With The Prophecy." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;7. Don't use any punctuation &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;8. As Often As Possible, Skip Rather Than Walk. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;9. Specify That Your Drive-through Order Is "To Go." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;10. Sing Along At The Opera. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;11. Go To A Poetry Recital And Ask Why The Poems Don't Rhyme &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;12. Put Mosquito Netting Around Your Work Area And Play Tropical Sounds All Day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;13. When The Money Comes Out of The ATM, Scream "I Won!, I Won!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;14. When Leaving The Zoo, Start Running Towards The Parking Lot, Yelling "Run For Your Lives, They're Loose!!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;15. Tell Your Children Over Dinner. "Due To The Economy, We Are Going To Have To Let One Of You Go."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;Yeah, I do these weekly... so I don't go crazy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/25804535-114468286668805921?l=cameouflage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/feeds/114468286668805921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=25804535&amp;postID=114468286668805921' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default/114468286668805921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/25804535/posts/default/114468286668805921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cameouflage.blogspot.com/2006/04/ways-to-maintain-healthy-level-of.html' title='Ways To Maintain A Healthy Level of Insanity'/><author><name>cameo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07162091255259595998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://a787.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/52/l_62b775113d8e942f181e70733bb5b53a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
