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        <title>deviantART: by:PowerthruControl</title>
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        <pubDate>Fri, 18 Dec 2009 20:53:49 PST</pubDate>        
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                <title>Stuart!</title>
                <link>http://PowerthruControl.deviantart.com/journal/11741326/</link>
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                <pubDate>Thu, 08 Feb 2007 21:58:05 PST</pubDate>
                
                <description><![CDATA[ For all you fans of me (yeah, all zero of you!) Im on Saatchi & Saatchi's web page for student artists. If you are not a student, you cannot join, and it gives you an oppertunity to have work purchased by the most infuential art collector of... now.<br /><br /> ]]></description>
                <author>~PowerthruControl</author>
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                <title>Picton Pig Roast?</title>
                <link>http://PowerthruControl.deviantart.com/journal/11536200/</link>
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                <pubDate>Mon, 22 Jan 2007 22:38:27 PST</pubDate>
                
                <description><![CDATA[ Okay, so Im not really happy like a squirrel, Im just kinda cheerful. I did some (fairly) descent paintings today and mom and I went to the pub (don't tell dad) so all is good. I haven't had anything interesting happen to me in a while, and there's major to talk about... except maybe that Picton guy. You know, the guy who murdered 26 prostitutes? Anyways his trial started today and I guess I have a bit of an unhealthy fascination in it (like most other people). Imagine! Our very own Serial Killer in my neck of the woods! Kinda like that time where my cousins lived next to that Missisipi killer (or something, I can't remember his name) for 6 years before he was found. Apparently he was an okay guy, had kids and a wife too... Weird. Anyways my friend and I were thinking we should have a pig roast the day he's convicted... you know... to celebrate the fact he will never hurt another person. I though it might be a little politically incorrect, but it turns out that's the kind of thing my friends like.<br /><br /> ]]></description>
                <author>~PowerthruControl</author>
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                <title>Christmas</title>
                <link>http://PowerthruControl.deviantart.com/journal/11216388/</link>
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                <pubDate>Wed, 27 Dec 2006 21:29:14 PST</pubDate>
                
                <description><![CDATA[ I can't pretend to be surprised at another totally useless Christmas. I guess I thought it would be more productive, but it appears old habits die hard , and once again I am more than mildly disappointed. I spent over 2 pay checks buying my family the perfect gifts and in return I get the typical stack of stuff I'll never use and don't want. Yes, this seems heartless, and yes, I am bitching about my gifts this year, but when you are a full time art student with a minimum wage job one has to put things into perspective. I cannot afford to get gifts that I cannot use. I haven't had new shoes in over a year, and my last haircut was early summer. I am poor, my paycheck was yesterday and already Im out of money. Im starting to understand the starving artist concept.<br /><br /> ]]></description>
                <author>~PowerthruControl</author>
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                <title>*cackles like a lunatic*</title>
                <link>http://PowerthruControl.deviantart.com/journal/11156237/</link>
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                <pubDate>Fri, 22 Dec 2006 22:48:08 PST</pubDate>
                
                <description><![CDATA[ Okay, so get this. I go into my doctors office saying that I need lithium because Im fairly certain I have manic depression. Fine, she gives me a referal to some crisis metal health evaluation center and I get interviewed a week and a half later. Then, 2 days ago, I get a call from my "case worker" (techically I don't have one yet because these things take 2-3 months), and Im a bit surprised. Turns out they're refering me to a pychologist in the Schizophrenia center! I practially fell over laughing (which would be awkward because I was on the bus crowded by people). Here I am, going to my doctor, saying Im ecstatic and sad at the same time and that my house is haunted, and they put me in a support group with people who see purple people and lick windows (to put it in the most dramatic of ways). *chuckles* Yeah, so that's the highlight of my week.<br /><br /> ]]></description>
                <author>~PowerthruControl</author>
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                <title>Hands Empty and Bound</title>
                <link>http://PowerthruControl.deviantart.com/journal/11111114/</link>
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                <pubDate>Mon, 18 Dec 2006 22:41:24 PST</pubDate>
                
                <description><![CDATA[ In the Bible Noah sends a white dove out to see if there is safe land, and the first returns with nothing; The second does with an olive branch, and the third never returns. In many ways my life is like this. Constantly scouting out lands and people, seeng if they will return empty handed, return with an olive branch, or never return again. In only rare cases will a friend return with an olive branch and bring good news that the waters are receeding, and all will be fresh and good again.<br /><br /> ]]></description>
                <author>~PowerthruControl</author>
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                <title>Beers at the Pub</title>
                <link>http://PowerthruControl.deviantart.com/journal/11083086/</link>
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                <pubDate>Sat, 16 Dec 2006 11:12:56 PST</pubDate>
                
                <description><![CDATA[ It was by far the most flattering thing anyone could say to anyone. It wasn't a lude comment on my attractiveness by a boozed up, over confident, drunk, but rather a vote of confidence by my entire 3D design class. It should be noted my class is entirely young females (including our teacher, Megan Dickie) so most of the topics disccused were of the feminine sort as we were not burdened by the presence of males.<br />
<br />
Seeing as yesterday was the last day of classes our class skipped off downtown for a few hours at lunch and dinned at the Irish Times Pub. My place in the class is well established. I am the funny, loud, weird, fat girl who is rarely taken seriously (except in Critical Studies where I make sense). After the drinks had arrived and everyone was getting comfortable and telling funny stories involving shower curtains and vaccuums. My part in this discussion was very little except to ask questions and make funny remarks, as I have no stories of my own that are both funny and self respecting. <br />
<br />
Megan, (pronounced Mee-gan) for no reason I can recall, suddenly looked at me with great respect and commented on my ability to write.  As if to shock me further the other four girls agreed with her and I felt a temperary boost in my ego. Megan went on to discribe my ability as an all-encompassing ability to discribe, listen, and ask questions that put people (specifically artists concerning their works) at ease, and create understanding as well. I felt as if god himself had reached down and patted me on the head saying "You're really neat Jessica,". <br />
<br />
It is in rare momments such as these, when people pull off my mask of sillyness, that I feel at one with the world. That people have validated my exsistance with one true comment on my character in a positive manner.<br /><br /> ]]></description>
                <author>~PowerthruControl</author>
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