<?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-875057811680034784</id><updated>2012-02-16T04:56:15.657-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Chronicles of Corey</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Corey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08686505258207365776</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SnjyMwBwz3I/AAAAAAAAAAo/ucnQsabp-SQ/S220/DSCF1110.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-875057811680034784.post-2185666038929496367</id><published>2010-07-17T00:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-17T00:52:10.826-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Desmond Doss</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/TEFhHcgw0VI/AAAAAAAAAHo/j8m92ZJWHpU/s1600/medal_of_honor.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 292px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/TEFhHcgw0VI/AAAAAAAAAHo/j8m92ZJWHpU/s400/medal_of_honor.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494779800909304146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was reading recently about recipients of the Medal of Honor. Every one of the recipients is a hero, an example to all, a pillar of courage and selflessness in the face of unimaginably frightening situations. While I have a great love and respect for all of these men and women, one stands out as a shining example among them all. His name was Desmond Doss. &lt;br /&gt;As a young boy Doss saw an illustration of a Bible story, that of Cain and Abel. He saw an artist's depiction of Cain standing over the body of his brother. (I have never seen such an illustration. For some reason it doesn't show up next to the picture of David and Goliath in our Gospel Art book, at least not in the collection that we show to the Sunbeams.) That picture and that story affected him so deeply that he vowed that he would never, under any circumstances, take the life of another person. &lt;br /&gt;As he grew into adolescence and young manhood, he grew devout in his faith and Christian beliefs. Then WWII came upon the world. He had a great desire to serve his country. So, being recognized as a conscientious objector, he joined the Army to serve as a medic. As soon as you got to basic training the men around him knew he was different, mocking him for his kneeling prayers and constant study of The Bible. His C.O. actually tried to have him discharged, claiming that he was unfit for service because he refused to work on the sabbath, eat meat or even carry a weapon at all. &lt;br /&gt;He was extremely dedicated to giving medical treatment to anyone in need, time after time charging into areas that were alive with machine gun and sniper fire to rescue wounded men. &lt;br /&gt;It was because of his actions at the battle of Okinawa that Doss received his Medal of Honor. His company was to assault the island by scaling a 400 foot cliff that was full of enemy caves, tunnels and machine gun emplacements. When they received the order to attack, Doss suggested to his Lieutenant that the men should pray before the attack. By this time he had earned the respect of all of the men due to his courage so they were receptive to his suggestion. They charged to island and were quickly pinned down by heavy enemy fire. They were forced to enter into a fierce battle. By the end of the day they were victorious, with out losing a single man and having only sustained one minor injury. The official Army report, in addressing how the company had pulled it off, says, "Doss prayed." &lt;br /&gt;A few days later the enemy came out of their caved and tunnels in a counter attack, quickly wounding 75 American men and forcing the company to push back to the base of the cliff. The only soldiers remaining on the top of the cliff were the wounded, the Japanese and Desmond Doss. For five hours straight, he lowered every single on of the 75 wounded men to safety before he was able to escape harm himself. He received his Medal of Honor on October 12, 1945 from President Truman. &lt;br /&gt;"He fought a good fight, his own way, without ever compromising his strong beliefs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/875057811680034784-2185666038929496367?l=thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/feeds/2185666038929496367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=875057811680034784&amp;postID=2185666038929496367' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default/2185666038929496367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default/2185666038929496367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/2010/07/desmond-doss.html' title='Desmond Doss'/><author><name>Corey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08686505258207365776</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SnjyMwBwz3I/AAAAAAAAAAo/ucnQsabp-SQ/S220/DSCF1110.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/TEFhHcgw0VI/AAAAAAAAAHo/j8m92ZJWHpU/s72-c/medal_of_honor.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-875057811680034784.post-4884042813560794764</id><published>2010-01-22T01:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-22T01:39:27.006-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stories from the Dorms</title><content type='html'>I received a couple of requests to post my interesting stories from my job as night clerk at a residence hall on the University of Illinois Campus. Well, here you go. These are not in any particular order. I will let you guess which one is my favorite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.My first week here: We tell all of the residents here (18 and 19-year-old kids) that, if they burn food and the smoke alarm goes off in their room, they should open a window and waft it out that way. NEVER open the door to the inside hallway for this reason, because if the smoke alarm goes off in the hallway, the entire building has to be evacuated and the fire department has to come. Well, at about 2:30 a.m., a couple of guys just had to have hamburgers, really well done. That's not the good part of the story. About 30 minutes later, when all 250 some odd kids are making their way back inside, one of the girls vomits all over the patio, and the crowd scatters. We went to clean it up once everyone was inside and I noticed there wasn't just wine cooler; for some reason there was a rubber band mixed in with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.On occasion, I have to play the hard-A and break up a drinking party. It's funny because they all see me as some sort of authority figure, when I can't actually do anything. It's fun though, to go banging on the door, and listen to everyone frantically tell each other to shut up. "Do you live here?"  "Yes, sir."  "Is this your booze?"  "Yes, sir."  "Dump it down the drain, Now" (In a super serious, intimidating tone). "Ok, I'm sorry, sir." "Yeah, you better be. Don't make me come back up here." Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.There is one resident, Elaine, that stops to talk to me once in a while. Sometimes she is coming back from a party, a bit out of it. Just before Christmas she had gone to a party at a frat house. I guess they had decorated for the holidays, including fake, spray-on snow on the windows. And this fake snow was scented. Elaine tells me that she had such a fun time, and she wrote her name on the window in the fake snow. "Now my finger smells so good." At this point she is not longer talking to me, but she is speaking softly to herself, "It smells so good" (while sniffing her finger), "it smells like Christmas...it's so good." After a solid twenty seconds of sniffing her own finger and talking to herself she staggered back into the realization that I was staring at her with a big grin on my face. She quickly wished me a good night, without making eye contact, and rushed off to the elevator. Merry Christmas indeed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/875057811680034784-4884042813560794764?l=thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/feeds/4884042813560794764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=875057811680034784&amp;postID=4884042813560794764' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default/4884042813560794764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default/4884042813560794764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/2010/01/stories-from-dorms.html' title='Stories from the Dorms'/><author><name>Corey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08686505258207365776</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SnjyMwBwz3I/AAAAAAAAAAo/ucnQsabp-SQ/S220/DSCF1110.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-875057811680034784.post-8695012094547713229</id><published>2009-08-24T20:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T22:16:41.029-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fabulous Flying Burtinis</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SpNhW8uiXJI/AAAAAAAAACo/06slsqfttaE/s1600-h/102_FUJI1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373745827269467282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SpNhW8uiXJI/AAAAAAAAACo/06slsqfttaE/s400/102_FUJI1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffff33;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Gather round! Come be witness to the Death Defying Feats and the Spectacular Acrobatics of the Fabulous Flying Burtinis!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;We were thinking of becoming Gypsies and starting a travelling show. I'm not sure we would be able to draw the crowds like other county fair side shows. Maybe we can teach Jack to be one of those fire breathers, and we could put some fake hair all over Aly, and he can be the Terrifying Wolf boy or something. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Just knockin' around some ideas, ya know?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/875057811680034784-8695012094547713229?l=thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/feeds/8695012094547713229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=875057811680034784&amp;postID=8695012094547713229' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default/8695012094547713229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default/8695012094547713229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/2009/08/fabulous-flying-burtinis.html' title='The Fabulous Flying Burtinis'/><author><name>Corey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08686505258207365776</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SnjyMwBwz3I/AAAAAAAAAAo/ucnQsabp-SQ/S220/DSCF1110.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SpNhW8uiXJI/AAAAAAAAACo/06slsqfttaE/s72-c/102_FUJI1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-875057811680034784.post-5885362652765118892</id><published>2009-08-24T20:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T20:32:45.577-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything has fallen into place at last.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SpNYO1xpLYI/AAAAAAAAACg/6Q4dbhGtga0/s1600-h/tetris.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373735792359845250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 302px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SpNYO1xpLYI/AAAAAAAAACg/6Q4dbhGtga0/s320/tetris.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At long last, things are falling into place for the Burtons. Since last Thursday we have found an apartment where the rest was marked down $150/month and it has a garage; Ashlee found a new job that will pay her more and not make her get up at three in the morning; I got a job (yes, you read that correctly) that will be absolutely perfect for school. I will be watching the desk at a student housing complex during the graveyard shift, so I will actually be getting paid to study and work on my freelance editing. Don't think less of me for using company time for personal things. In the interview the building manager said, "It's good that you have that freelance stuff, 'cause it gets boring."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of these things being said, I do feel like a bit of as Israelite, wandering in the wilderness while murmuring under my breath about my hardships and trials. I hope that I can take this experience and grow from it, and hopefully be able to face future rough spots with a little more trust and faithfulness. I will remember the blessings that we recieved this week, and remember that the Lord knows when the best options will come around. If we had not waited (been compelled to wait) for this job and this apartment, we would have ended up paying a lot more for housing and I would have had a tougher time ahead of me this semester.  I like comparing this to Tetris because everything doesn't just fall into place; there is a knowing and caring hand guiding these happenings in our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. My comment board that I had on the sidebar was giving me trouble, so I have to figure something else out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/875057811680034784-5885362652765118892?l=thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/feeds/5885362652765118892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=875057811680034784&amp;postID=5885362652765118892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default/5885362652765118892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default/5885362652765118892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/2009/08/everything-has-fallen-into-place-at.html' title='Everything has fallen into place at last.'/><author><name>Corey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08686505258207365776</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SnjyMwBwz3I/AAAAAAAAAAo/ucnQsabp-SQ/S220/DSCF1110.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SpNYO1xpLYI/AAAAAAAAACg/6Q4dbhGtga0/s72-c/tetris.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-875057811680034784.post-501757268133052591</id><published>2009-08-15T17:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-15T22:51:33.452-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An Unhappy Medium</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/Soedb8KSV-I/AAAAAAAAACQ/35Ogl0mvFOw/s1600-h/gd8.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370434183993907170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 351px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/Soedb8KSV-I/AAAAAAAAACQ/35Ogl0mvFOw/s400/gd8.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, so maybe the picture of the Depression-era soup line is a little dramatic, but this is how I am starting to feel. At least I didn't find a picture of a Depression-era stock broker flinging himself out the window. I haven't quite reached that point yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The unhappy medium to which I refer is as follows. I like written language. I like to analyze it (not my own writing, so forgive my shortcomings there). I want to be an editor. I have no real experience as an editor, and every company that does editing requires at least two years of professional experience. Many of you can empathize with the situation. You graduate, have no experience, and seemingly have way of gaining the experience while still paying the rent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conversely, no retail store, copy shop, manufacturing company, etc. will hire me because they don't think that I will stick around for very long. At least this is what people keep telling me is probably the reason. They think I am over-qualified. I am not trying to toot my own horn here. I do not pretend to think that I am over-qualified for anything. But some of our friends think that retail companies think that I would only be working there temporarily when they see my past experience (once again, not trying to make myself sound cool).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize that most of my posts so far have been negative and depressing so here is a bit of childhood humor to lighten the mood. We recently discovered "On-Demand" on my parents TV. And what do they have on the WB Kids channel?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370431677088486914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 391px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SoebKBNdVgI/AAAAAAAAACI/IcHlYchO5XU/s400/thundercats1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;That's right! Thunder Cats! And Jack is into it! He, of course, is Liono, the big red-haired fella in the front with the sword. I play the role of Panthro, the gray guy on the bottom right. Alaster is a great WilyCat. And Ashlee is the sexiest Cheetarah I have ever seen!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best is when I hear Jack saying quietly, "Thunder, Thunder, Thunder, Thunder Cats...HO!!" He asked me to get him a new sword so he could have the "Eye of Thundera." We even dug through my old toys and found my Thunder Cat dolls...action figures, that I had when I was like five or six.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/875057811680034784-501757268133052591?l=thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/feeds/501757268133052591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=875057811680034784&amp;postID=501757268133052591' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default/501757268133052591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default/501757268133052591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/2009/08/unhappy-medium.html' title='An Unhappy Medium'/><author><name>Corey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08686505258207365776</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SnjyMwBwz3I/AAAAAAAAAAo/ucnQsabp-SQ/S220/DSCF1110.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/Soedb8KSV-I/AAAAAAAAACQ/35Ogl0mvFOw/s72-c/gd8.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-875057811680034784.post-3789000184028938333</id><published>2009-08-05T00:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T00:29:27.099-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a small note</title><content type='html'>I recently was introduced to a band that I think is the Bee's Knees, the Cat's Pajamas. The band is called &lt;em&gt;Ghostland Observatory.&lt;/em&gt; Note that I have a few of their songs in the playlist. Che, che-che, che, che..Check it out!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/875057811680034784-3789000184028938333?l=thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/feeds/3789000184028938333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=875057811680034784&amp;postID=3789000184028938333' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default/3789000184028938333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default/3789000184028938333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/2009/08/just-small-note.html' title='Just a small note'/><author><name>Corey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08686505258207365776</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SnjyMwBwz3I/AAAAAAAAAAo/ucnQsabp-SQ/S220/DSCF1110.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-875057811680034784.post-3718174874030120023</id><published>2009-08-04T09:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T23:40:59.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Anxiety</title><content type='html'>anx•i•ety \aņ-zī-ә-tē\ &lt;em&gt;n, pl&lt;/em&gt; &lt;strong&gt;–eties [L&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;anxietas&lt;/em&gt;, fr. &lt;em&gt;anxius&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;]&lt;/strong&gt; (ca. 1525) &lt;strong&gt;1 a :&lt;/strong&gt; painful or apprehensive uneasiness of mind usu. over an impending or anticipated ill &lt;strong&gt;b :&lt;/strong&gt; fearful concern or interest &lt;strong&gt;c :&lt;/strong&gt; a cause of anxiety &lt;strong&gt;2 :&lt;/strong&gt; an abnormal or overwhelming sense of apprehension and fear often marked by physiological signs (as sweating, tension, and increased pulse), by doubt concerning the reality and nature of the threat, and by self-doubt about one’s capacity to cope with it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week from this coming Monday I will begin taking classes at the graduate level. I am excited, but at the same time I am really, really nervous about it. If you don't know, I am going to be attending Eastern Illinois University, getting my MA in Professional Writing. I have been thinking lately, I am getting a Master's degree...if this doesn't work out, or if it turns out that I am not that good of a writer or editor, then we are really up [crap] creek, as the saying goes. What do I do then? Go back for more school? I have been joking with Ashlee, because I haven't been able to find really steady work with my English degree, that I should go back and get a BS in some sort of engineering field.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides the anxiety associated with the uncertainty of the career choice being a good one to begin with, I am also uber-nervous about being a graduate student. It's like I am getting ready to go out on stage for a concert to play music that I haven't really practiced enough, or to play a character who's lines are a little unclear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is where the illustration comes in. The definition above, taken from &lt;em&gt;Merrriam Webster's Collegiate Dictionary&lt;/em&gt;, mentions "physiological signs" but neglects to list among those signs the overwhelming sensation that I have been suffering lately. Too often in the last few weeks have I felt the undeniable urge to bow myself before the porcelain shrine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/Snje54kNlHI/AAAAAAAAAAc/MjT16D5ioQs/s1600-h/My+Pictures1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366284042030126194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/Snje54kNlHI/AAAAAAAAAAc/MjT16D5ioQs/s400/My+Pictures1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gratefully, I have not yet endured anything comparable to the regurgitory stylings displayed by the two unfortunate individuals pictured above. But hey, I have two years ahead of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck and happy hurling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/875057811680034784-3718174874030120023?l=thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/feeds/3718174874030120023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=875057811680034784&amp;postID=3718174874030120023' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default/3718174874030120023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default/3718174874030120023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/2009/08/anxiety.html' title='Anxiety'/><author><name>Corey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08686505258207365776</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SnjyMwBwz3I/AAAAAAAAAAo/ucnQsabp-SQ/S220/DSCF1110.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/Snje54kNlHI/AAAAAAAAAAc/MjT16D5ioQs/s72-c/My+Pictures1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-875057811680034784.post-2501775799771349070</id><published>2009-08-03T19:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T19:48:06.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Poetry, on a lighter note</title><content type='html'>To lighten to mood after that last poem, here is another form piece that I wrote. The form in which this was composed is called "villanelle."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The villanelle, in contrast to the sestina, has two entire lines that are repeated throughout the poem. It is comprised of 6 stanzas. The two repeating lines are given as the first and third lines of the first tercet. Those lines will be labeled a1 and a2 in the rhyme scheme.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a1&lt;br /&gt;b&lt;br /&gt;a2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a&lt;br /&gt;b&lt;br /&gt;a1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a&lt;br /&gt;b&lt;br /&gt;a2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a&lt;br /&gt;b&lt;br /&gt;a1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a&lt;br /&gt;b&lt;br /&gt;a2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then the last stanza is a quatrain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a&lt;br /&gt;b&lt;br /&gt;a1&lt;br /&gt;a2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy, and I hope you get a good chuckle. I wrote this when I was preparing to take the GRE as an entrance requirement for graduate school. I hate that frickin' exam. Waste of time and energy, and does not reflect a person's practical knowledge at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unpleasant: A Villanelle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Graduate Record Examination,&lt;br /&gt;More painful than is&lt;br /&gt;A gratuitous rectal investigation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ll submit my score with my application.&lt;br /&gt;My head really hurts from this&lt;br /&gt;Graduate Record Examination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one can offer an explanation&lt;br /&gt;For why I must take this&lt;br /&gt;Gratuitous rectal investigation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have they no more productive occupation&lt;br /&gt;Than to force upon us&lt;br /&gt;The Graduate Record Examination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The GRE is a more unpleasant palpation&lt;br /&gt;Than even is&lt;br /&gt;A gratuitous rectal investigation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ll continue to pray for the extrication&lt;br /&gt;From the requirement that is&lt;br /&gt;The Graduate Record Examination,&lt;br /&gt;This gratuitous rectal investigation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/875057811680034784-2501775799771349070?l=thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/feeds/2501775799771349070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=875057811680034784&amp;postID=2501775799771349070' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default/2501775799771349070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default/2501775799771349070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/2009/08/poetry-on-lighter-note.html' title='Poetry, on a lighter note'/><author><name>Corey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08686505258207365776</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SnjyMwBwz3I/AAAAAAAAAAo/ucnQsabp-SQ/S220/DSCF1110.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-875057811680034784.post-989142204559841648</id><published>2009-08-01T22:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T22:52:52.811-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scout Camp</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Recently I was fortunate enough to accompany my old scout troop to scout camp. By "fortunate enough" I mean that I still don't have a job and I had nothing else to do for those three days, so what they hay, right? In all seriousness, it was a blast. It is sad to see the degeneration in the youth of America right before your eyes. It has been 10 years since I turned 18 and, thus, put an end to my own scouting career. Yes, 10 years is a long time, but when I was in scouts we acted in a much different manner than my current successors. For instance, my first scout camp included an small organization that was founded the week of scout camp and seemed to have disbanded during the car trip home. This organization was called "The Billy Club." Well, you can guess what the requirements for entering this club were. You had to make your very own billy club and give it a unique name. My club was dubbed "El Billy." It would take time to relate to you all the mischievous deeds brought about with said clubs by said Club, but suffice it to say that the tent posts of many other troops seemed to have mysteriously broken right in two during the night. Long story short, our leaders had pretty much no idea where we were until it was time for a meal. The kids that I was out with this past week however...it was like pulling teeth to get these kids to do anything. I was technically one of the "leaders" but I was actually recommeding that they play with fire. When I was a scout we had an eight foot high bonfire every night. These kids sat around and watched me play with the fire. I actually said to them, "You all have knives. Surely you can think of SOMETHING to do!" Wink, Wink. But, no. We brought a football. It took me ten minutes to get these kids to come play catch with me, and when we got over to the field none of them would run to catch the effin' ball! We ended up playing 500. I must have thrown that stupid ball 30 times, and it was caught a total of 3 times. I wanted to vomit. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, having vented on the delapidated state of the future of our country...here are some of the high points of the trip.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We went to Giant City State Park in Carbondale, IL. I was pleasantly surprised at what we found there. Lots of cool rock formations and some pretty decent (albeit short and novice) hiking trails. We also went to Garden of the Gods in Shawnee National Forest just outside of Marion, IL. That place was just amazing (See Pics). If you've ever seen &lt;em&gt;The&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;Last of the &lt;/em&gt;Mohicans (good movie, though nothing like the book) Garden of the Gods is like the cliffs in the closing fights scenes. Amazing. Even more amazing is that it is in Illinois. On the last full day we were going to take the boys to do some easy climbing, but when we got to the cliffs there were these two guys that had all their repelling equipment set up. They were waiting for another youth group to come and offered to teach us in the mean time. It was awesome. The cliffs were maybe 60 feet high and all the boys (who had the guts, or who were not content with repelling vicariously through their World of Warcraft avitars) got to do it. I did it as well, and I am still nursing the big infected cut which resulted from a disadvantageous encounter between my leg and the rock face. It was awesome. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;All in all, a good trip. And I look forward to hopefully helping these boys gain an appreciation for the wonderous Earth we have been given. Enjoy the photos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SnUmg5XFsVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Gytqz4lPms/s1600-h/DSCF2436.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365236877677146450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SnUmg5XFsVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Gytqz4lPms/s320/DSCF2436.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;This is Garden of the Gods (just one of the many awe inspriring views)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;These cliffs are probably about 100 to 125 feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SnUpJyh3tPI/AAAAAAAAAAU/VhaGDZIV5wY/s1600-h/My+Pictures.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365239779241211122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SnUpJyh3tPI/AAAAAAAAAAU/VhaGDZIV5wY/s320/My+Pictures.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Here are some of the critter we ran across on our adventures.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;If you're wondering about the picture on the bottom left, those are hatched rattlesnake eggs.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/875057811680034784-989142204559841648?l=thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/feeds/989142204559841648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=875057811680034784&amp;postID=989142204559841648' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default/989142204559841648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default/989142204559841648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/2009/08/scout-camp.html' title='Scout Camp'/><author><name>Corey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08686505258207365776</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SnjyMwBwz3I/AAAAAAAAAAo/ucnQsabp-SQ/S220/DSCF1110.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SnUmg5XFsVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Gytqz4lPms/s72-c/DSCF2436.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-875057811680034784.post-3704493341545009030</id><published>2009-08-01T18:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T19:03:15.279-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The First Post</title><content type='html'>I am finally here, sharing my experiences with the rest of the world (anyone who cares).  I hope that in my thoughts, stories, poetry, etc. that I share, that I might be able he give something of value to someone. I also hope that, if I am not able to say something deep or meaningful, I might be able to bring some sunshine through a little laughter. If not, I sincerely apologize for the wasted time, and better luck in your future blog perusing. Welcome one and all to The Chronicles of Corey.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/875057811680034784-3704493341545009030?l=thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/feeds/3704493341545009030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=875057811680034784&amp;postID=3704493341545009030' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default/3704493341545009030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/875057811680034784/posts/default/3704493341545009030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thechroniclesofcorey.blogspot.com/2009/08/first-post.html' title='The First Post'/><author><name>Corey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08686505258207365776</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCAOFBJ6JII/SnjyMwBwz3I/AAAAAAAAAAo/ucnQsabp-SQ/S220/DSCF1110.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
