<?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-15627902</id><updated>2011-04-22T01:48:59.192-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Tale Well Designed to Keep You in . . . Anxiety</title><subtitle type='html'>The heartwarming story of two girls who search for the bluebird of happiness by waiting for it in the shadow of fear.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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>41</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15627902.post-116295063252670395</id><published>2006-11-07T20:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T20:50:32.546-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Citizen Anxiety</title><content type='html'>70. Fear that &lt;em&gt;The Purloined Letter&lt;/em&gt; was written by Poe, not Conan Doyle. It was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;71. Fear that no one actually believes that you’re going to join a gym. Or take boxing classes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;72. Fear that you now know the ending to &lt;em&gt;Million Dollar Baby&lt;/em&gt;. Allayed by the newfound knowledge that you would have hated that movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;73. Fear that if you can’t get it together enough to send pertinent information to writers of recommendation letters, going back to school won’t help you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;74. Fear that your desire to be nice to people would be more easily fulfilled if, rather than worrying about others overhearing the snarky things you say about them, you just didn’t say them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;75. Fear of a Veronica Mars/Logan Echolls breakup. Deeper, far more unsettling fear that you don’t actually care anymore. Congratulations, Rob Thomas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;76. Fear that everyone thinks your hair is too long. Fear that being “the Hermione” of a given group requires more than just long hair and a misleading air of superiority.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;77. Fear that you don’t eat enough fruits and vegetables. How is that &lt;em&gt;possible&lt;/em&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;78. Fear of looking like a sucker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;79. Fear that you should go back to eating fish before there are no more fish. It’s a confusing fear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;80. Fear that you would &lt;em&gt;not &lt;/em&gt; in fact make a good celebrity ghostwriter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the Department of Ships that Have Sailed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;81. Fear that an unkind note—writer, you—will be left where it might easily be found by its subject.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;82. Fear that, this time, your room will never be clean again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;. . . allayed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;83. Fear that, after record numbers of voters show up at the polls, you will be turned away and told that they’ve “already collected enough votes.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;. . . dismissed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;84. Fear that your return to blog-writing will only be temporary—your absence having been a source of guilt for months—and that you have exhausted your stock of anxieties.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;. . . unlikely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;To Be Continued&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-116295063252670395?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/116295063252670395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=116295063252670395&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/116295063252670395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/116295063252670395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/11/citizen-anxiety.html' title='Citizen Anxiety'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15627902.post-114701889127006385</id><published>2006-05-07T11:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-07T17:51:39.940-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Kiss Me Anxiety</title><content type='html'>1. Fear that you are about to make a life changing decision. Fear that it won't turn out well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Fear that you are everything people have ever accused you of being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Fear of deluding yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Fear that you left too small a tip and that nice waiter will hate you forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Fear that you left too large a tip and that nice waiter thinks you're an idiot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Fear that you've something very important behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Fear that the Veronica Mars finale will not feature a Veronica and Logan reconciliation but instead a horrible secret about Beaver and a little tag at the end saying "This episode has been the last in our current series." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Fear that you forgot your best friend's birthday. You did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Fear that people will be disappointed in you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Myfie*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114701889127006385?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114701889127006385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114701889127006385&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114701889127006385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114701889127006385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/05/kiss-me-anxiety.html' title='Kiss Me Anxiety'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114645561044918962</id><published>2006-04-30T23:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-30T23:56:13.370-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Nous la Anxiety</title><content type='html'>New Feature!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Sources of Anxiety that Ought to Be a Bit More Common:&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;1. Fear that if you call up your daughter and say in a grave voice, “You heard about what happened to your sister?” without a preceding no-bodily-harm-in-this-announcement disclaimer, she might become anxious. Of course, this same principle can be applied to many situations—I witnessed this as a child, when a girl scout shrieked at her mother, “My stick was on fire and I moved it near my head and &lt;em&gt;look what happened&lt;/em&gt;!!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Caitlin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114645561044918962?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114645561044918962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114645561044918962&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114645561044918962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114645561044918962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/04/nous-la-anxiety.html' title='A Nous la Anxiety'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114541391660543600</id><published>2006-04-18T22:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-18T22:47:33.166-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Gentlemen Prefer Anxiety</title><content type='html'>60. Fear that your bus seat is damp because someone peed on it. There’s actually a visible leak in the roof where leftover rain has been dropping down, but what if someone chose that seat to pee in for that very reason? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;61. Fear that you should have made the following note to self. “If pee theory is proved false, acid rain? Be careful.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;62. Fear that leftover raw tofu, having been stored in tap water, had all night to soak up toxins like a sponge. Too bad you already ate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;63. Fear that your teeth are shifting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;64. Fear that you wouldn’t become so irritated if you were a more compassionate person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;65. Fear that you’re not getting your money’s worth out of Netflix. File this one under “fears, haunting.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;66. Fear of being thought of as needing to be the center of attention. Fear that telling people how, at one of your birthday parties, you stood on a chair and yelled “shut up!” at your friends still doesn’t strike the right note of faux self-awareness. “Oh, she knows her failings! How she’s changed!” No one’s saying that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;67. Fear that this whole “second person pronouns” thing is ill advised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;68. Fear (confirmed) that you missed your chance to do a birthday post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;69. Fear that you lack the necessary skills. Not for your current job, but someday you’ll know that that free time you have could have been better spent. When you see a job listing that ends, “Must be able to ride bike, tell time.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Caitlin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114541391660543600?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114541391660543600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114541391660543600&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114541391660543600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114541391660543600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/04/gentlemen-prefer-anxiety.html' title='Gentlemen Prefer Anxiety'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15627902.post-114512074012585450</id><published>2006-04-15T12:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-15T13:07:38.406-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Rocky Horror Anxiety Show</title><content type='html'>1. Fear that one day your doctor will tell you that you can no longer eat grapefruit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Fear that one day the grapefruit crop will fail and no one will be able to eat grapefruit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Fear that the back of your ankles will be sliced open. (Thank you Kill Bill, this new terror is most appreciated)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Fear that the rice you are eating has maggots in it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Fear that the last lines of your anecdotes say more about you than you would like. (i.e. 'so that's the time I was attacked by a rottweiler' or 'and that's when I realized that I was completely soaked with freezing water, dusk was coming on and it was deer season').&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Fear that your amazing feat of delivering an envelope with a two cent stamp wasn't really an amazing feat afterall. Fear that the fact that you think so makes you a pathetic person. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Fear that you sound self-centered in conversation. Fear that this is because you are self-centered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Fear that you will use a word in conversation that you understand but can't specifically define verbally and that someone will ask you to explain its meaning. You won't be able to and they will think you unintelligent and annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Myfie*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Note: I have since decided that my envelope delivery was, in fact, an unquestionably amazing feat regardless of whether this makes me a pathetic person or not. )&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114512074012585450?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114512074012585450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114512074012585450&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114512074012585450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114512074012585450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/04/rocky-horror-anxiety-show.html' title='The Rocky Horror Anxiety Show'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114472669462339204</id><published>2006-04-10T22:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-10T23:38:14.676-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tales 13 &amp; 14</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/1600/IMG_0102.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/320/IMG_0102.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/1600/IMG_0103.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/320/IMG_0103.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114472669462339204?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114472669462339204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114472669462339204&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114472669462339204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114472669462339204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/04/tales-13-14.html' title='Tales 13 &amp; 14'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114470741745426482</id><published>2006-04-10T17:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-10T18:16:57.510-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Good, The Bad &amp; The Anxiety</title><content type='html'>1. Fear that when you open your eyes underwater there will be a large animal (i.e. shark)  swimming directly at you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Fear that for no reason you will burst out crying in a public place (like that time in sixth grade that made everyone in the lunchroom think you were mentally unstable or that other time, also in sixth grade, that led to you getting into an arguement with your teacher and walking out of class). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Fear that using outdated slang such as gee willikers in conversation makes other people hate you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Fear that you are listening or singing the lyrics to a song that means exactly the opposite of what you think it means. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Fear that the things you are saying in a foriegn language you don't understand are either racist, sexually explicit, cause to begin an international war or just plain stupid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Fear that something will happen to your precious new computer like you know what happened to the last one...the one that you DESTROYED! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Fear that you will never be able to build that time machine you've always dreamed of. Fear that despite those dreams, you wouldn't really know what to do with a time machine if you had one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Fear that potted plant baskets are really boa constrictors coiled around in a clever disguise. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Fear that you will make an impression on someone's parents that will haunt you everytime you go to their house, such as the time you were first introduced to a friend's family by handing their parents a box with a dead bird in it. This wouldn't have been so bad if you hadn't promptly run back to your car and gunned it backwards out of their driveway into two-lane traffic, possibly going over thier new lawn in the process. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Fear that others nearby when you are talking on the phone find you unpleasant and annoying because you are often loud and fakely pleasant to people when you don't have to speak to them face to face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Myfie*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114470741745426482?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114470741745426482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114470741745426482&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114470741745426482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114470741745426482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/04/good-bad-anxiety.html' title='The Good, The Bad &amp; The Anxiety'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15627902.post-114447024075865228</id><published>2006-04-08T00:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-08T00:33:06.846-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Casque d'Anxiety</title><content type='html'>49. Fear of being told that you look like someone, then seeing that person and feeling only horror and disappointment. In the past, I have expressed unhappiness over my alleged (by self) resemblance to the following people:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emily Dickinson&lt;br /&gt;Al Sharpton*&lt;br /&gt;George Washington*&lt;br /&gt;Agnes Moorehead&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Hairstyle only.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50. Fear that people don't respect you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;51. Fear--a fear that has been realized--of happily noting the presence of a bolt on a door leading to a dark crawlspace, only to find that it sticks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;52. Fear that your lack of manual dexterity leads people to think that you are breaking into your own house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;53. Fear induced by the fact that, for you, the effort of thinking is apparently so demanding that people around you--"reflective" you--need to ask you if you're okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;54. Fear that, because you missed a Rushmore reference on Veronica Mars, you will never get to meet Wes Anderson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;55. Fear that if you had listened to Ricky Gervais's podcast from the beginning, you would have sent him an e-mail of great wittiness, but that having failed to do so you will never marry Stephen Merchant. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;56. Fear of sounding defensive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;57. Fear that people will think you are going out of your way to be artificially friendly and condescending, when you in fact sound artificially friendly and condescending all the time, whether you are being sincere or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;58. Fear that in shaking hands with people you repel them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;59. Fear of telling someone to stop humming. It seems too personal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Caitlin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114447024075865228?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114447024075865228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114447024075865228&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114447024075865228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114447024075865228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/04/casque-danxiety.html' title='Casque d&apos;Anxiety'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15627902.post-114402249131069132</id><published>2006-04-02T19:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-02T20:01:44.803-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Anxiety Always Rings Twice</title><content type='html'>1. Fear that children, like dogs and other small animals, can smell your fear. Fear that they will exploit this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Fear that you know better than anyone else exactly what Roosevelt was talking about. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Fear of acting skittish around a mentally challenged person. Fear that this will be construed as prejudice instead of just your normal behavior with anyone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Fear that having the attention span of a small child with ADD will prove a hindurance to later endeavors. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Fear that you will actually eat Tatos one day and they really will be "dried fecking filth". You'll be endlessly disapointed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Fear that being trapped in the past does nothing for your future. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Fear that the world is going to end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Fear that when it does end, it won't be accompanied a fabulous pyrotechnics display or aliens of any kind and will just stop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Fear that when walking over a subway grate it will suddenly give way and send you plunging into the path of an oncoming train.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Fear that you are losing your hearing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Fear that if you ever do get the opportunity to punch someone in the face, your fists will reveal themselves to be tiny and inneffective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Myfie*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114402249131069132?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114402249131069132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114402249131069132&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114402249131069132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114402249131069132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/04/anxiety-always-rings-twice.html' title='The Anxiety Always Rings Twice'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114360368795080226</id><published>2006-03-28T22:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-28T22:44:25.090-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Anxiety of the Red Witch</title><content type='html'>1. Fear that you are a tedious person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Fear that other people know exactly what you are going to say before you say it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Fear that you will never find and eradicate the place in your brain where all your coherent thoughts perish before reaching your mouth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Fear that you have already told this anecdote to the person you are talking to and are now repeating it to their annoyance and disinterest. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Fear that you will begin breathing very heavily while doing a simple task such as walking up the stairs. Fear that no one will understand that you're not ridiculously out of shape...you just have asthma. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Fear of laughing loudly and without discernible cause in a public place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Fear of being called on the general and stupid statements you make due to nervousness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Fear of being backed into a conversational corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Fear that people will think you are an odd, rude and aloof bitch just because anxiety prevents you from getting phrases like 'Hi, how are you?' or 'God Bless You' or 'Fine, thank you' out of your mouth no matter how hard you try to say to them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Fear that a relative, friend or associate will ask you a jovial question about your social life. You don't have one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Fear that a bird is going to fly into your head. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now a notation outside the numbered pattern: This weekend the Film Forum is showing 'The Shootist' as part of its Don Siegel marathon and being a diehard John Wayne fan, I had planned to go see it. Now this is causing me a great deal of anxiety because I fear a repeat of the horrifyingly unstoppable sobbing that accompanied my previous viewing of the film and the embarassing consequences of doing this in a public place. There is a possibility I won't cry because I am generally not a film crier, but then again this film falls into my four 'Definite Possibility of Tears, Slight Chance of Breakdown' categories i.e. heartfelt ending to a John Wayne film (True Grit, Sands of Iwo Jima, Red River, The Shootist), haunting Civil War music (Young Mr. Lincoln, They Died With Thier Boots On), Musical Overwhelm (Once Upon a Time in the West, The Searchers, The Good, The Bad &amp; the Ugly) or Quality Overwhelm (Gentleman Jim, From Here to Eternity). &lt;br /&gt;So, shall I risk public humiliation by going and possibly crying so loudly I will be forced to run out of the theater choking on my tears or stay safe by sitting in my room like a sad inactive excuse for a human being? Decisions, Decisions!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Myfie*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114360368795080226?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114360368795080226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114360368795080226&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114360368795080226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114360368795080226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/03/anxiety-of-red-witch.html' title='The Anxiety of the Red Witch'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114315930483057497</id><published>2006-03-23T19:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-23T19:31:15.106-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Anxiety of a Bengal Lancer</title><content type='html'>1. Fear of waving stupidly to someone who is not waving at you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Fear that you are bleeding profusely from some part of your head and don't know it. Fear that others do and are horrified.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Fear that you are seconds away from painful and lifelasting humiliation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Fear that a teacher is about to publicly address something stupid you wrote in an assignment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Fear of being 'put on the spot'. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Fear that people remember all of the inane things you say and think of them everytime you open your mouth to speak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Fear of being a 'figure of fun'. Fear that using the phrase 'figure of fun' makes you one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Fear that people actually take you seriously. They shouldn't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Fear that people realize you are lying to them. Fear that they also realize that you aren't doing it for any specific purpose aside from the thrill of being dishonest. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Fear that you will be thinking about something embarassing and accidently verbalize it when someone addresses you suddenly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Fear that a darkening sky automatically signifies a coming tornado, a fact that will become clearer when you are either&lt;br /&gt; A) swept away in a howling tunnel of wind and debris or B) accosted by someone frantically shouting 'Twister! Head for the root cellar!' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Fear that there isn't a root cellar. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Myfie*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114315930483057497?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114315930483057497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114315930483057497&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114315930483057497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114315930483057497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/03/anxiety-of-bengal-lancer.html' title='The Anxiety of a Bengal Lancer'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114255811958216908</id><published>2006-03-16T20:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-16T20:17:37.786-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Anxiety</title><content type='html'>I am currently experiencing anxiety caused by the possibility of humiliating myself at an office spelling bee. Some of my opponents in the bee are such that, had I participated in any other spelling competitions in my lifetime, I would be fully in a position to tell someone that “this time it's personal.” My history, however, is a total blank, free of any previous, non-personal spelling bees. Even so, it's personal, and I don't have a chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, I also suffer from a sadly non-paralyzing fear that discussing the place where I work makes me a boring person. However, if I am bowed down by the terrors induced by my inability to spell even the word “toboggan” to the extent that I'm forgetting to recheck the locks on the doors, then clearly the very foundations of this record are crumbling, and that's semi-noteworthy.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;45. Fear that by the time you re-lock the locks, they’re already in the house.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;46. Fear experienced while eating a peanut butter sandwich in a public place, accompanied by a desire to announce your intention before unwrapping any peanut product. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;47. Fear that if you take a break from a book that you’ve read at work and then resume it a week later people will think you are a slow reader.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48. Fear of misspelling the word “public” in a letter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48. Fear that your so-called “self-deprecating little asides” don’t even begin to cover it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Caitlin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114255811958216908?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114255811958216908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114255811958216908&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114255811958216908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114255811958216908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/03/private-lives-of-elizabeth-and-anxiety.html' title='The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Anxiety'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114226894112471868</id><published>2006-03-13T11:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-13T19:27:30.963-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Gunfight at the Anxiety Corral</title><content type='html'>1. Fear that you will approach a cash register with an armful of things to purchase only to realize that you do not have enough money. Fear that you will be forced to shamefully walk back down the aisle under the accusatory stares of the store to return a small item such as a candy bar that was just too much for you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Fear that Shane really is dead.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;3. Fear that when purchasing healthy foods the cashier secretly thinks "Uh...yeah that's not going to help."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Fear that this same thought goes through the heads of cashiers when you buy products like makeup or shampoo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Fear that employees in more expensive clothing stores are disdainful of you and your appearance and are mocking your delusion that you could ever buy or successfully wear their clothes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Fear that by sitting next to an unpleasant person you have become contaminated. Fear that other people think this about you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Fear that having doctors continually ask you if you hear nonexistant voices signifies a problem with how you portray your mental stability to others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Fear that this isn't the right line. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Fear that you are driving on the wrong side of the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Fear that everyone sees through your attempts to seem busy or purposeful when completely lost or bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Myfie*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114226894112471868?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114226894112471868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114226894112471868&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114226894112471868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114226894112471868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/03/gunfight-at-anxiety-corral.html' title='Gunfight at the Anxiety Corral'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114195844739712897</id><published>2006-03-09T21:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-10T08:56:07.113-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lay Down Your Anxiety, Part Two</title><content type='html'>33. Fear that you are being transparent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. Fear that refusing cake at an office party will brand you as a dieter, and that people will &lt;em&gt;roll their eyes&lt;/em&gt; at you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. Fear of being thought to call attention to your own idiosyncrasies in order to appear to be a more interesting person—fear of being thought to do various other things for which you condemn people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. Fear that the high, hysterical voice you use to quote &lt;em&gt;The Bad Seed&lt;/em&gt; is indistinguishable from your regular voice. Fear that you have an annoying voice, and what's more, people will think that &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt; hit him with your shoe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. Fear of having been amiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38. Fear of accidentally drifting into the wrong part of the store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. Fear that expressing fondness for morally ambiguous characters allies you with actors who enjoy playing villains because “we all have a little of the racist/psycho killer/‘curmudgeon’ in us.” We don’t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. Fear of sounding like someone who’s just pretending to be interested.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41. Fear of using the office kitchen sponge—reasonable. Fear of leaving your dishes to dry in the kitchen—justifiable. Fear of bringing your dishes into the kitchen at all—impending.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42. Fear that it’s cancer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. Fear that your cell phone is on and has dialed the number of the person you are gossiping about. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;44. Fear that people will think that you compose sentences in your head before you say them out loud—this leads to the fear of giving any thought at all to the things it occurs to you to say, which leads to public foolishness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Caitlin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114195844739712897?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114195844739712897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114195844739712897&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114195844739712897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114195844739712897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/03/lay-down-your-anxiety-part-two.html' title='Lay Down Your Anxiety, Part Two'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114125526465417846</id><published>2006-03-01T18:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-04T18:27:11.710-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Return of Anxiety</title><content type='html'>1. Fear that when going through a spinning door it will begin to go too fast and catch the back of your foot as you're leaving...and kill you.&lt;br /&gt;2. Fear revolving around how attractive Tyrone Power was as Jesse James, compounded by fear over how badass Henry Fonda was as Frank James. &lt;br /&gt;3. Fear that there actually is a reason people always apologize to you when they swear. &lt;br /&gt;4. Fear that there are cameras everywhere and somewhere in Australia someone's having a good, hearty laugh at your expense. &lt;br /&gt;5. Fear that when BSing a rough draft of a paper you will write something stupid and pretentious thus convincing the person who proofreads your gibberish, without being aware that you wrote it at 4 in the morning, that you are stupid and prententious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Myfi* &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now after this anxiety...ZEN! ( and this Zen is for Daddy so Caitlin best make sure he read it! Sucka!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listen to these 30 songs and you will be at complete peace. Awesome!&lt;br /&gt;THE BEST 30 SONGS EVER&lt;br /&gt;1. Battle Hymn of the Republic&lt;br /&gt;2. Ashokan Farewell&lt;br /&gt;3. Thunder Road&lt;br /&gt;4. Old Beat Guitar&lt;br /&gt;5. The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down&lt;br /&gt;6. The Weight&lt;br /&gt;7. Train In Vain&lt;br /&gt;8. Moon River&lt;br /&gt;9. Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts&lt;br /&gt;10. You Ain't Goin' Nowhere&lt;br /&gt;11. Wings of a Dove&lt;br /&gt;12. My Rifle, My Pony &amp; Me&lt;br /&gt;13. Me &amp; My Shadow&lt;br /&gt;14. Theme from 'The Searchers'&lt;br /&gt;15. The Massacre&lt;br /&gt;16. Theme from 'East of Eden'&lt;br /&gt;17. Out of the Blue&lt;br /&gt;18. Science Fiction Double Feature&lt;br /&gt;19. Theme from 'The Great Escape'&lt;br /&gt;20. Paradise&lt;br /&gt;21. Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head&lt;br /&gt;22. The Impossible Dream&lt;br /&gt;23. I Am I Don Quixote&lt;br /&gt;24. Red River Valley&lt;br /&gt;25. What I'm Looking For&lt;br /&gt;26. Watching the Wheels&lt;br /&gt;27. Settle Down/High Noon&lt;br /&gt;28. Get Me Away From Here I'm Dyin'&lt;br /&gt;29. 78 Stone Wobble&lt;br /&gt;30. Frankenstein&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114125526465417846?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114125526465417846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114125526465417846&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114125526465417846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114125526465417846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/03/return-of-anxiety.html' title='The Return of Anxiety'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114110096686570318</id><published>2006-02-27T22:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-27T23:32:14.256-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Anxiety of the Barbary Coast</title><content type='html'>1. Fear that the food you are eating has had something nasty done to it. Fear that everyone else is aware of this and are secretly disgusted with you for consuming it.&lt;br /&gt;2. Fear that you stepped on something nasty while walking and and it is now all over your room spreading disease and filth.&lt;br /&gt;3. Fear that one day there will BE solid proof that karma does exist and you will have to ponder the horrendous deed one of your ancestors must have committed to bring this down upon your house. &lt;br /&gt;4. Fear that the continous hilarity you find in the presence of babies in silent films indicates your complete inability to ever mature. Fear that your failure to take anything from these films besides asinine personal amusement at said babies will lead to problems in your film course.  &lt;br /&gt;5. Fear that you will get oral cancer.&lt;br /&gt;6. Fear that when you lick your chapped lips people will mistakenly believe you to be making misguided sexual overtures at them. &lt;br /&gt;7. Fear that many things are actually sexual references that you are unaware of. Fear that you will say one of these things in public and be mocked for naivety.&lt;br /&gt;8. Fear that when you walk you accidently sway your hips too much and people will make fun of you for trying to hard.&lt;br /&gt;9. Fear that people will see you carrying one your Netflix movies and mock you for having absolutely no life whatsoever.&lt;br /&gt;10. Fear that people will see you eating fatty foods, then proceed to look you up and down and say "Well that seems about right."&lt;br /&gt;11. Fear that other people have actually witnessed you do that stupid skipping thing you do when you're inexplicably happy.&lt;br /&gt;12. Fear that you are too considerate and have become that dreaded doormat person.&lt;br /&gt;13. Fear that when you buy the smallish more expensive box of cereal instead of the economy size everyone around you is passing judgement on your lack of foresight and wastefulness.&lt;br /&gt;14. Fear that people will see you chewing Whitening gum and hate you for presumed vanity.&lt;br /&gt;15. Fear that you have been growing dumber and dumber with every passing year.&lt;br /&gt;16. Fear that one day you may actually go through with one your plans for the future (i.e. joining the merchant marines/the marines/the air force, starting a ranch in Wyoming, becoming a hobo, fisherman, truck driver or international spy) Fear that these goals do not reflect your situation or connect to any of the skill sets you currently have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Myfi*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114110096686570318?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114110096686570318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114110096686570318&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114110096686570318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114110096686570318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/anxiety-of-barbary-coast.html' title='Anxiety of the Barbary Coast'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114074267828151926</id><published>2006-02-23T19:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-26T19:05:38.423-05:00</updated><title type='text'>(I'm Always Touched by Your) Presence, Anxiety</title><content type='html'>26. Fear of jokes. Specifically, fear that someone will tell a joke that is offensive and that you will then despise them. You despise too many people already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. Fear of having accidentally typed a false declaration of love into an e-mail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. Fear of saying something terrible and out of character to an answering machine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. Fear of swearing while on the radio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. Fear of having made a promise that you can’t keep, a fear that is quickly allayed when you see girl scouts selling cookies in the train station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. Fear of making sweeping generalizations about your habits that are later disproved—fear that, having told someone that you write only in blue pen, you will be seen writing in black.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. Fear of someone reading over your shoulder and sneering at what you are writing in a notebook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Caitlin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114074267828151926?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114074267828151926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114074267828151926&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114074267828151926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114074267828151926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/im-always-touched-by-your-presence.html' title='(I&apos;m Always Touched by Your) Presence, Anxiety'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114040745055771194</id><published>2006-02-19T22:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-19T22:51:14.273-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rancho Anxiety</title><content type='html'>17. Fear that a stranger will hide a dead body in the trunk of your car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. Fear that you have run someone over with your car even though it was just a pebble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Fear that your policy that, when at work, it is best to use a plastic knife for buttering is wasteful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Fear that your frequent use of slang will be wrongly traced to your habit of reading the slang dictionary, even though they are not related. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. Fear that the girl who asked for a copy of your speech seven years ago was making fun of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. Fear of having frequently humiliated yourself as a child by being loud and boastful and appalling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. Fear that in October, when you stopped suddenly to avoid hitting a deer and your bag fell on the floor of the car, it was contaminated by mouse droppings from the previous winter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. Fear that something tiny but important has fallen on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. Fear that children find you condescending and transparently desperate to please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Caitlin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114040745055771194?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114040745055771194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114040745055771194&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114040745055771194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114040745055771194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/rancho-anxiety.html' title='Rancho Anxiety'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114023159654630690</id><published>2006-02-17T21:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-17T21:59:56.566-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tale #11 &amp; #12</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/1600/IMG_0083.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/320/IMG_0083.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/1600/IMG_0084.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/320/IMG_0084.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114023159654630690?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114023159654630690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114023159654630690&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114023159654630690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114023159654630690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/tale-11-12.html' title='Tale #11 &amp; #12'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114022809939884496</id><published>2006-02-17T20:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-19T22:33:49.520-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Northanger Anxiety</title><content type='html'>10. Fear that people will look for your blog and find the wrong one, and that they will read it in secret and mistakenly think that you are foolish. Fear that people will, in fact, accept substitutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Fear that when you are friendly, it does not seem as natural as you imagine--fear that jocundity does not actually suit you, and that, while you are sometimes aggressively nice to certain people in order to overcompensate for disliking them, your behavior leads them to believe that you are secretly in love with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Fear that people in general think, rightly or wrongly, that you are secretly in love with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Fear that someone has bought clothes, committed a murder or other unspeakable act while wearing them, and then returned them to the store. These are the clothes that you buy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Fear of nearly stepping into a puddle on a cold day, muttering a shocking but recognizable oath, and then seeing a kindly old man before you offering his hand across the puddle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Fear of wearing slippers that were bought as a present for someone who was, at the time, sick with the flu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Fear that elderly women don't find you as charming as you think they do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Caitlin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114022809939884496?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114022809939884496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114022809939884496&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114022809939884496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114022809939884496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/northanger-anxiety.html' title='Northanger Anxiety'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114022157828332072</id><published>2006-02-17T19:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-17T19:12:58.286-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tales #7, #8, #9 &amp; #10</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/1600/IMG_0074.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/320/IMG_0074.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/1600/IMG_0082.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/320/IMG_0082.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/1600/IMG_0079.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/320/IMG_0079.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/1600/IMG_0081.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/320/IMG_0081.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114022157828332072?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114022157828332072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114022157828332072&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114022157828332072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114022157828332072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/tales-7-8-9-10.html' title='Tales #7, #8, #9 &amp; #10'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114020962095203235</id><published>2006-02-17T15:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-17T15:53:40.983-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Myfi's Post of Zen</title><content type='html'>In the face of all this overwhelming anxiety, I would like to identify four spaces in which anxiety is non-existent and completely irrelevant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1st scenario:&lt;br /&gt;    Eating saltines &lt;br /&gt;    Drinking Sparkling White Grape Juice&lt;br /&gt;    Listening to Bob and Ray&lt;br /&gt;    Maybe doodling if you wish to be completely at peace&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2nd scenario&lt;br /&gt;    Eating plain rhubarb out of a tub &lt;br /&gt;    Watching a John Wayne movie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3rd Scenario&lt;br /&gt;    Eating Honey Nut Cheerios&lt;br /&gt;    Drinking a large bottle of ice cold water&lt;br /&gt;    Watching episodes of 'The Wild Wild West'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4th Scenario&lt;br /&gt;    Eating a grapefruit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prepare yourself for ultimate zen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Myfi*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114020962095203235?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114020962095203235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114020962095203235&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114020962095203235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114020962095203235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/myfis-post-of-zen.html' title='Myfi&apos;s Post of Zen'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114013972640322318</id><published>2006-02-16T20:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-17T21:03:26.343-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Very Topical!</title><content type='html'>Not to enter the realms of the grotesquely personal, but I think I'm getting sick. This is a kind of anxiety that I particularly hate; I mean, okay:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Fear of bus seats that are too low. Fear that the person behind you is going to stab you in the back of the head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That I can deal with. But this sort of tired indisposed feeling isn't even list-worthy. Perhaps if I made a list of how I could have gotten sick, in order of probability . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a) Money. Having been forced to rummage through change earlier in the week.&lt;br /&gt;b) Dead mouse (rat?) on the street.&lt;br /&gt;c) The ninety &lt;em&gt;thousand&lt;/em&gt; people at work who are sick.&lt;br /&gt;d) Mysterious deposit found on bumper of car. I carelessly referred to this as "salt" earlier in the day, but need I say that I suspect something more ominous?&lt;br /&gt;e) Karma. Having alluded disparaging to the "contagion" that one of the ninety thousand carries about with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Caitlin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114013972640322318?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114013972640322318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114013972640322318&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114013972640322318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114013972640322318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/very-topical.html' title='Very Topical!'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114013553392438930</id><published>2006-02-16T19:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-16T19:18:53.943-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tales #4, #5 &amp; #6</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/1600/IMG_0067.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/320/IMG_0067.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/1600/IMG_0069.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/320/IMG_0069.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/1600/IMG_0068.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/320/IMG_0068.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114013553392438930?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114013553392438930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114013553392438930&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114013553392438930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114013553392438930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/tales-4-5-6.html' title='Tales #4, #5 &amp; #6'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114011276115256905</id><published>2006-02-16T12:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-16T19:29:12.723-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Anxiety Specific Only to Me</title><content type='html'>1. Fear that a previous threat against your boss will affect your chances of being rehired this summer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Fear that showing up for work an hour late every Wednesday will eventually lead to you being fired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Fear that carrying a large box full of cement up to the fifth floor will lead to back problems later in life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Fear that your French teacher is actually a Satanic warlord ensconsed in human form for the strict purpose of sucking out your soul, mutilating it and then feeding it back to you, a worthless shell of what it once was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Fear that the people around you are not human but actually skillfully designed robots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Myfi*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114011276115256905?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114011276115256905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114011276115256905&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114011276115256905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114011276115256905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/anxiety-specific-only-to-me.html' title='Anxiety Specific Only to Me'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114006313365710668</id><published>2006-02-15T23:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-15T23:12:13.676-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tale #2 &amp; #3, Book 1, Pg. 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/1600/IMG_0062.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/320/IMG_0062.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/1600/IMG_0064.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/320/IMG_0064.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114006313365710668?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114006313365710668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114006313365710668&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114006313365710668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114006313365710668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/tale-2-3-book-1-pg-1.html' title='Tale #2 &amp; #3, Book 1, Pg. 1'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114005693428756637</id><published>2006-02-15T21:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-15T21:28:54.286-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tale #1, Book 1, Pg.1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/1600/IMG_0061.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/84/16/320/IMG_0061.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114005693428756637?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114005693428756637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114005693428756637&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114005693428756637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114005693428756637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/tale-1-book-1-pg1.html' title='Tale #1, Book 1, Pg.1'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-114004287039349852</id><published>2006-02-15T17:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-16T10:14:26.336-05:00</updated><title type='text'>More Common Anxiety</title><content type='html'>1. Fear that people who wear hunting jackets in the middle of the city are not just misguided but actually there to hunt people. &lt;br /&gt;2. Fear that one day you will do all of the things you've ever imagined yourself doing. This is accompanied by the fear that there will be severe legal consequences for these actions.&lt;br /&gt;3. Fear of tripping and falling in the middle of a busy street, therefore spending your last moments before being smushed by a truck in horrifying embarrassment. &lt;br /&gt;4. Fear that eating chocolate doesn't actually solve all your problems and may, in fact, make many of them worse.&lt;br /&gt;5. Fear that everyone around you can read your thoughts and is making fun of the stupid and humiliating things you are thinking about.&lt;br /&gt;6. Fear that there is nothing you can do about the fact that people find you odd and alienating. &lt;br /&gt;7. Fear that there actually is a God and that everything you've been saying will eventually get you into trouble. &lt;br /&gt;8. Fear that the moment for that trouble is now and you are about to be struck down by pestilence, plague and/or pulsating boils. &lt;br /&gt;9. Fear that you will wake up one morning in a room swarming with butterflies.&lt;br /&gt;10. Fear that your complete inability to convey any of your intelligence or higher brain functioning to others will lead to you becoming just as stupid as you come across in conversation. &lt;br /&gt;11. Fear that the two peanut butter sandwiches and box of cookies you just ate will make you fat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Myfi*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-114004287039349852?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/114004287039349852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=114004287039349852&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114004287039349852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/114004287039349852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/more-common-anxiety.html' title='More Common Anxiety'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-113996844004753629</id><published>2006-02-14T20:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-14T20:56:40.850-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Flashback . . . to Anxiety</title><content type='html'>When I was in elementary school and gave all my classmates Valentines, I suffered from a paralyzing anxiety about what to call some of the boys to whom I was sending cards. I was convinced that addressing someone as, say, "Matt" instead of "Matthew" seemed forward and would lead ultimately to humiliation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also in elementary school, I had a sweatshirt that spelled out "You are the key to my heart" in a rebus. I hid this sweatshirt, which had been handed down to me by my cousins, because I found its message troublingly suggestive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today on Valentine's Day I had to step over a dead mouse on the sidewalk after work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, the candy hearts that I chose from the office bag of holiday candy were poorly printed and in some cases illegible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Caitlin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-113996844004753629?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/113996844004753629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=113996844004753629&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113996844004753629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113996844004753629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/flashback-to-anxiety.html' title='Flashback . . . to Anxiety'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-113988159905949438</id><published>2006-02-13T20:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-14T20:57:08.726-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Common Sources of Anxiety</title><content type='html'>1. Fear that someone has used the end of the toilet paper without ripping it off and then wound it back on the roll.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Fear of lending someone a used book, only to have that person find a poem tucked between the pages, an insipid poem not written by you, but never having a chance to explain this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Fear that taking time over one’s appearance will inspire only pity in those who know you, for your efforts are in vain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Fear that wearing trendy clothing featuring logos or phrases that you don’t understand will falsely identify you as a member of a neo-Nazi group.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Fear of having food on your face. Fear that you will be seen using a small mirror to check for this and be thought of as vain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Fear that someone superficially similar to you will write to a widely syndicated advice column and that everyone will think the letter is from you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Fear that you have gradually become hideous, but so gradually that those you see daily don’t notice, and that a chance encounter with a former schoolmate will reveal this to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Fear that the money you are handling has played an instrumental role in an international drug-smuggling conspiracy, i.e., that it has been planted in and later extracted from a dead body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Caitlin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-113988159905949438?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/113988159905949438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=113988159905949438&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113988159905949438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113988159905949438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/common-sources-of-anxiety.html' title='Common Sources of Anxiety'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-113987555696874789</id><published>2006-02-13T18:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-13T19:07:49.136-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Anxiety over Why Everything I Do Is Stupid and Everything You Do Is Awe-some</title><content type='html'>Okay, so did &lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt; not say that &lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt; had added a special Valentine's Day movie to the top of &lt;strong&gt;my&lt;/strong&gt; Netflix queue? And was this announcement not met with complete apathy? My Valentine's Day movie is Now, Voyager, a Bette Davis probable weeper (let's call this a BDPW, because I'm pretty sure there are a lot of them) about an unstable young person who probably suffers from a great deal of anxiety herself although why in that case she would be on a boat I don't know. Anyways, this is the movie equivalent of plucking the petals off a tiny baby blossom and saying "he loves me, he loves me not," since I'm not sure if Bette Davis ends up with her fellow in the end or if this is thinly veiled prequel to Hush, Hush Sweet Charlotte. I've also, as I mentioned, filled the car up with the Magnetic Fields and determined to listen to all the 69 Love Songs in order (even Experimental Musical Love), even though, as I mentioned, I really don't care about Valentine's Day. It just seems like the done thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Caitlin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-113987555696874789?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/113987555696874789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=113987555696874789&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113987555696874789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113987555696874789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/anxiety-over-why-everything-i-do-is.html' title='Anxiety over Why Everything I Do Is Stupid and Everything You Do Is Awe-some'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-113987129585870089</id><published>2006-02-13T17:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-16T17:56:12.803-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Today Is the Day...Before Valentine's Day</title><content type='html'>So yeah, it's the day before Valentine's Day, which is only a real holiday to people in relationships or obnoxiously chipper ones. I am neither. I also don't like chocolate. I do however like the color red and therefore plan on wearing it tomorrow. Now to that about Valentine's Day which is causing me anxiety: I don't think the special Valentine's Day movie I placed at the top of my Netflix's queue will arrive in time. I also don't think that's how you spell queue. Anyway, I had envisioned myself watching 'A Lady Takes a Chance' and eating cookies but instead I'll probably just be eating cookies. Chocolate chip for your information. I mean, it's totally perfect, it's the John Wayne version of Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and Mr. Deeds Goes to Town. Jean Arthur (uuhh yeah she didn't get typecast) meets a naive, not really that smart, yet immposibly honest and adorable, really tall, skinny and attractive dude and falls in love with him. If that doesn't scream Valentine, then I dunno what does. Well maybe a talking card or some other thing. &lt;br /&gt;Okay so other things that made me anxious today&lt;br /&gt;1) In my French class, our teacher asked what people's favorite holidays are and the answers went as such: Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving...Guy Fawkes Day. Umm, Come again? I know the kid is British but Guy Fawkes Day?!? &lt;br /&gt;2) I was standing in front of one of my bosses' office and she was yelling into the phone "LISA'S NOT MY LOVA, SHE'S MY SISTER! THERE ARE JUST SOME THINGS YOU DON'T DO, GIRL!" Uhh, yeah cue anxiety. Partly caused by the fact that she said lova... I mean, there are just no words.&lt;br /&gt;3) All day long I felt really anxious about the fact that I wear my rings on my right hand and if I ever were to punch someone I would need to use said right hand, therefore causing pain to me and maybe cutting someone's face. I may want to punch someone but I don't really know if I'm at the cutting stage. I have yet to solve this dilemma. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Myfi*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congratulations Fink!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-113987129585870089?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/113987129585870089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=113987129585870089&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113987129585870089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113987129585870089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/today-is-daybefore-valentines-day.html' title='Today Is the Day...Before Valentine&apos;s Day'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-113979149645733248</id><published>2006-02-12T19:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-12T19:45:31.573-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Yeah, Sorry</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I really feel terrible about not staying on topic in my last message; let me say &lt;em&gt;explicitly&lt;/em&gt; this time that this is causing me a great deal of anxiety, anxiety on a level equal to that experienced when I &lt;strong&gt;did not know what you were talking about&lt;/strong&gt;. Now I realize . . . now I realize that my ignorance is even more widespread than I thought and goes beyond innuendoes involving referring to one's legs as "fences." Right, okay, so Michael Powell is the former chairman of the FFC. Son of Colin Powell. And, shockingly, the famed director who died in 1990!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Caitlin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-113979149645733248?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/113979149645733248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=113979149645733248&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113979149645733248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113979149645733248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/yeah-sorry.html' title='Yeah, Sorry'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-113977766299453607</id><published>2006-02-12T15:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-12T19:47:08.943-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What?</title><content type='html'>I don't understand the Michael Powell reference. Are you saying that you're a peeping Tom? Because as I recall you insisted fairly vehemently that barely a peep was necessary to spot the naked BREAST featured in I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang. I don't think you need to feel like a perv--it was RIGHT THERE (or so you claim).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Caitlin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-113977766299453607?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/113977766299453607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=113977766299453607&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113977766299453607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113977766299453607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/what.html' title='What?'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-113977767648633756</id><published>2006-02-12T15:51:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-16T10:16:00.370-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Karl Marx</title><content type='html'>This next tale of anxiety involves the discovery that Karl Marx uses the word highfalutin in The Communist Manifesto. Well Gosh all Hemlock, Stalin! Workers of the world unite!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Myfi*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-113977767648633756?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/113977767648633756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=113977767648633756&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113977767648633756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113977767648633756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/karl-marx_12.html' title='Karl Marx'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-113977630263621539</id><published>2006-02-12T15:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-12T15:33:27.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Note</title><content type='html'>Please note that I am signing my entries enter-hyphen-space-Caitlin. That is the formula.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Caitlin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-113977630263621539?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/113977630263621539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=113977630263621539&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113977630263621539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113977630263621539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/note.html' title='Note'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-113977688295373947</id><published>2006-02-12T15:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-16T10:15:35.260-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Quick Work Smacky</title><content type='html'>Now I was placed in anxiety by the extreme quickness of your response and by my inability to spell the word extreme. It's probably because of those X-tteeerreeeeme things they are always advertising making me think it has more letters. Next thing you know there will be Xtteeerreeeeme lint or talcum baby powder. Anyway, I will not comment on 'The Getaway' debacle, as I was too distracted by Steve Mcqueen's illuminating dialogue (Sheeeyit, Punch it baby!) to actually notice the plot. Though there was anxiety that his cry of Sheeyitt might prompt an ass-nekkid Mifune to run hollering across screen. Alas, no. Marilyn Monroe and her fences posess the only loincloth of the day. Maybe it's me who has the mind of a censor, Getaway notwithstanding, though the 'It's a BOOB!' debate concerning 'I am A Fugitive From a Chain Gang' was partly due to my obession with repeating the word BOOB! Now I'm anxious that I just posted that on the internet. I swear its not pornography, Michael Powell! I swear! Please don't hit me with the rubber hose! Don't hit me with the rubber hose! Ach, you hit me with the rubber hose!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Myfi*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Postscript: Though I disagree with calling this a postcript, I will follow your misguided lead and state that I am signing with two stars rather than a boring, grammatically correct hyphen. Why? Because I'm a fairy princess!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-113977688295373947?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/113977688295373947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=113977688295373947&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113977688295373947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113977688295373947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/quick-work-smacky.html' title='Quick Work Smacky'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-113977609964420917</id><published>2006-02-12T15:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-12T15:28:19.646-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mmm . . . Mush</title><content type='html'>Okay, so here's my anecdote. I watched the trailer for River of No Return yesterday, and while it didn't necessarily keep me in anxiety, it did cause me anxiety. About my own ignorance--note that this was highlighted by your reaction to this, which was basically to confirm how incredibly stupid I am, which is a laugh considering the whole Getaway debacle. River of No Return, apparently, features NOT ONLY my second favorite Marilyn Monroe-sung song, but also my favorite. Early in the trailer she appears dressed up in the costume of a Western barroom girl like Marlene Dietrich in Destry Rides Again, with the addition of a sort of long loincloth. Anyways, the point is that when she sings that she's got the title to something vital that she can throw her FENCES around, she waves the loincloth in the air all like "I'm talking about my LEGS!" I had no idea. I NEVER thought of that as being a double entendre. I guess I should have known from the way she sings "Ooo-ooo-ooh . . . lookin' for nuggets?" My alarm was the emotional peak of the trailer--the rest of it pretty much features fairly questionable-looking Adventure, but still, WE SHOULD SEE THIS MOVIE, despite my very serious qualms. The excitement of the Marilyn Monroe/Robert Mitchum pairing is highlighted by an announcement superimposed on what looks like him raping her in the woods. Then, I think, they get married and go down the river of no return, which is an actual river, and while they're on it (or in front of it, as they in no way seem to be anywhere near an actual river), he claims that she'll soon find out why they call it "the river of no return." Cut to a band of Indians sort of halfheartedly tossing a rock off a cliff and near the raft. I was pleased to discover that I felt no anxiety at all during this scene. However, from the fact that in the song she claims that she lost her love to the river, the river of no return, I don't have high hopes for Robert Mitchum's survival.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Postscript: at the end I was shocked to see that this movie was directed by Otto Preminger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Caitlin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-113977609964420917?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/113977609964420917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=113977609964420917&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113977609964420917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113977609964420917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/mmm-mush.html' title='Mmm . . . Mush'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-113977078268679636</id><published>2006-02-12T13:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-12T13:59:43.216-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Curse of the Cat People</title><content type='html'>This next amazing story involves the watching of the film "The Curse of the Cat People" and the anxiety inducing discovery that it featured neither a Curse nor any Cat People. Twas a bitter pill to swallow, that one, may I tell you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-113977078268679636?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/113977078268679636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=113977078268679636&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113977078268679636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113977078268679636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/curse-of-cat-people.html' title='Curse of the Cat People'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-113977179938376927</id><published>2006-02-12T13:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-12T15:30:12.016-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh my gosh, I just realized: writing in the blog causes me Anxiety!</title><content type='html'>That should make things much easier. I also should point out that your "amazing story" was not so much "the next" as "the first." My story has not yet been WRITTEN--it's just a fond memory for you. However, I will add it soon. It should also be pointed out, though, that this past week was kind of a landmark for being the first and last week in which I watched Veronica Mars AND Arrested Development AND Battlestar. I just think that's important. See--I'm developing the blogging mentality already! And right now I'm eating graham crackers and applesauce, which (relevance!) is causing me anxiety about whether the cinnamon grahams that I'm dipping are masking the flavor of applesauce that has gone off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Caitlin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-113977179938376927?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/113977179938376927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=113977179938376927&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113977179938376927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/113977179938376927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2006/02/oh-my-gosh-i-just-realized-writing-in.html' title='Oh my gosh, I just realized: writing in the blog causes me Anxiety!'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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-15627902.post-112459184092043751</id><published>2005-08-20T22:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-20T22:37:20.920-04:00</updated><title type='text'>An initial post</title><content type='html'>I imagine I'll have to write more than this later, but now this is all I can handle.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15627902-112459184092043751?l=amazingfile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/feeds/112459184092043751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15627902&amp;postID=112459184092043751&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/112459184092043751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15627902/posts/default/112459184092043751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amazingfile.blogspot.com/2005/08/initial-post.html' title='An initial post'/><author><name>CNP</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09549842308312457083</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>
