<?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-163749176959455210</id><updated>2012-02-16T05:20:11.546-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Recess Is Over</title><subtitle type='html'>I named my blog 'Recess Is Over' because that has been what my entire life has been. One large never ending recess. It was 2007 that the recess ended. Brought around from the death of my mother. Momma's boy? Yes, but more. My mother had MS and in the last years of her life I went from her caregiver to not knowing what I am. I had made decisions in life based on her and now.. Not sure how to make decisions. Or how to even move forward as just me. Recess is over and its time to get back to living.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://recessisover.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/163749176959455210/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://recessisover.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ryan Ronald</name><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>4</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-163749176959455210.post-93152116950431379</id><published>2011-06-11T19:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-11T19:33:46.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Certainty to Certain Things</title><content type='html'>Certain things in life:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trying to be friends with an Ex never works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Death&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lending money to friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The latter is a bitch. It is quite amazing how a friendship can be totally twisted and warped because of it. Right now I am experiencing this problem. I should know by now not to lend money to friends. My mother did it with her trusted friends and never got burnt by it. Me on the other hand, lending money out has become a black hole with regards to return. I feel like a creditor instead of a friend. I don't talk to the person outside of asking about when they are going to pay me back. Otherwise I can feel my blood pressure rise with every word out of their mouth and dollar spent. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you would think I would learn to not stick my finger in the light socket. But no, I punish myself and become the doormat again. No more. It is sad to become jaded from this but I really dislike losing a friend over something like this. So they begin the drift from friend to acquaintance to.... well someone you would rather not come across in a mall or a coffee shop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... Death... too tough a subject to hit on a Saturday night. Maybe some other night when I got Tom Waits playing and find the bottom of a bottle of wine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-R&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/163749176959455210-93152116950431379?l=recessisover.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://recessisover.blogspot.com/feeds/93152116950431379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://recessisover.blogspot.com/2011/06/certainty-to-certain-things.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/163749176959455210/posts/default/93152116950431379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/163749176959455210/posts/default/93152116950431379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://recessisover.blogspot.com/2011/06/certainty-to-certain-things.html' title='Certainty to Certain Things'/><author><name>Ryan Ronald</name><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-163749176959455210.post-424346984420125666</id><published>2010-09-20T21:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T21:50:46.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The moon and a Song</title><content type='html'>On my way home from coffee tonight, the full moon reminded me of something. A few years back, probably closer to 10, I used to get over failed relationships by naming a star in the Big Dipper constellation after the person i broke up with. Thinking that over time, you forget who was what star or they were replaced by another person. With Ben Harper's 'Walk Away' playing, I couldn't think of who was what star. They had all left my memory. They all became my yesterday. And tomorrow was just that. A sunrise away. Though, I have not met a woman that deserves a whole constellation. She would be the one that got away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That or I need to start dating more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-R&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/163749176959455210-424346984420125666?l=recessisover.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://recessisover.blogspot.com/feeds/424346984420125666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://recessisover.blogspot.com/2010/09/moon-and-song.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/163749176959455210/posts/default/424346984420125666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/163749176959455210/posts/default/424346984420125666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://recessisover.blogspot.com/2010/09/moon-and-song.html' title='The moon and a Song'/><author><name>Ryan Ronald</name><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-163749176959455210.post-6377821488366965454</id><published>2010-03-14T22:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-14T22:26:48.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'>He who hesitates, masturbates.</title><content type='html'>Those who know me at this point are going, oh God!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I say, lets be honest. This statement is a very valid statement. I remember sitting in Monty’s on a Saturday afternoon watching exotic dancers when this older gentleman asked to sit at my table. And so he did. We watched and as she walked off he commented on her looks and suggested I should go say hello and start something. That is the opposite of me. At least back then. He then continued telling me about his youth in Ireland going to dances with his brother. His brother was a bit of a player (my words) while he was the shy one.  And on he went giving me a lesson in life.  His brother would go over to the girls and ask them to dance.  Once they were dancing, he would ask them if they wanted to fuck. Yes his words. Enter the lesson. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot remember his exact statement, but here is a good recollection of his wisdom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“My brother may have gotten slapped a lot with that business, but he also went home every dance with a girl on his arm.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson received. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my early years, I was more like him. The kid who sits on the sidelines thinking about asking a gal to dance, and wishing he was more like his brother.  I never thought about asking for more than that. Hell it wasn’t until 22 that I lost my virginity. That is another story and another bottle of wine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually it wasn’t until I was 22 that I became the aggressor in some form. Until then I was like the Hip song, ’38 years old and never kissed a girl’. Yes that was going to be my destiny. In high school I did the school musical just to be around a girl I liked and never told, never acted. I was too shy and too worried about rejection. Raise your hand if that was you in your high school years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Years later, I am 22 and I lost my moral compass.  I lose my virginity in Las Vegas and return home to start this life as a MAN. Summer hits and I have a one night stand with a married woman and have a mini-crisis for a week regarding it.  Point being that something changed between being the sweet sideliner to being the guy who would get involved with a woman who was married. I didn’t hesitate. I acted or reacted. Funny what a sex life does to a person. Its not a matter of rejection anymore. Its more about when is going to be the next time. Terms like dry spells, libido and cunnilingus enter your vocabulary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here I stand at 35. Compass found. I tend to not act without thought. I however do not over think about it, because I would talk myself out of acting if that were the case. So some nights I hesitate. And sometimes I wake up the next morning feeling a little lighter on my feet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shit or get off the pot.  I choose to sit and wait for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-R&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/163749176959455210-6377821488366965454?l=recessisover.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://recessisover.blogspot.com/feeds/6377821488366965454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://recessisover.blogspot.com/2010/03/he-who-hesitates-masturbates.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/163749176959455210/posts/default/6377821488366965454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/163749176959455210/posts/default/6377821488366965454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://recessisover.blogspot.com/2010/03/he-who-hesitates-masturbates.html' title='He who hesitates, masturbates.'/><author><name>Ryan Ronald</name><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-163749176959455210.post-2617240681617397820</id><published>2010-03-14T21:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-14T21:49:59.562-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Apologies</title><content type='html'>I am a typical Canadian, filled with apologetic qualities. Or maybe I am just a guy who thinks its his fault 98% of the time and that a 'sorry' is needed. Ok the latter is being a little hard on myself. 75%. Truth be told my life I have done a lot of things that I regret or that i feel i need to apologize for. As well, I am apologizing to all those who will read my blog. I don't wish to offend anyone and/or come off as a prick. The worst situation is that you have wasted your time reading my blog and you curse me for that. My reply, its the internet, the biggest waste of time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those who anticipate (fingers crossed) every post from my blog, I do not guarantee to be witty or charming. Truth be told, this is a means for me to release some angst from sexual frustration, mid-thirties crisis, and the uncertainty of being. I am filled with angst. Who isn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing about me, I am upfront and open about most things in my life. The only thing I hide, which has been iffy doing so as of the last few years, is my feelings and emotions. Put the mask on and enter the stage which is life. Cough Cough Bullshit. I used to be really good at hiding how i felt behind some mask i would put on. Just found over the last few years I have grown tired and have failed with it. Its no biggie. Just evidence that I am not the angel/goldenboy that everyone told me i was. I am just the average joe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO... I am sorry for wasting your time and sorry for being who i am and sorry for who I am not. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-R&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/163749176959455210-2617240681617397820?l=recessisover.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://recessisover.blogspot.com/feeds/2617240681617397820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://recessisover.blogspot.com/2010/03/apologies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/163749176959455210/posts/default/2617240681617397820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/163749176959455210/posts/default/2617240681617397820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://recessisover.blogspot.com/2010/03/apologies.html' title='Apologies'/><author><name>Ryan Ronald</name><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>
