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Migrating from Blogger to WordPress


And so ends my time in Blogger ...

This is the last post, in these parts, because now I'll post on my new blog , which is implemented in WordPress, and where I drive my own subdomain, DBs, hosting, etc, I mean I have full control over the.

All posts of this blog have been migrated to the new :-). We read


!, C and!

-

Sugasti Silvia aka [Adeene]

Party Cove Lake Of The Ozarks Mo 2010

Goodbye Blogger

I come to say goodbye

of Blogger , of \u200b\u200byou do not.

I moved to my own page www.escriboaqui.es . I hope all the people I have linked to this blog, change the link to the new. And hopefully it
come with me to my new blog . Where I will continue writing as I have done here so far.

Thank you all. And thanks for following me again.

Can Chicken Pox Make Men Sterile

Where is eigual? Back to see

Yes, so where am I?:

Well I'm working. Working on my new blog , which will be my new page, I hope that within a few days to be ready and able to write here the link, and share with you all.
I bite my tongue, nails, and brush against despair because they can not write, can not write all the stories and all the things I write and I take my time it is taking the blog I'm designing (it is difficult This design eh, I did not remember). Calculation
about 3 or 4 days to get it ready.
I must say that made me really excited that I buy my own domain. Finally have a name in this space, a more settled. And good design, as God intended. And chosen and designed by me, because in a blog has to feel comfortable and that are going to spend many hours on it.

So nothing. I say goodbye until my next post, which will be a farewell to this blog blogger, who both also made me and let me share with you readers, so many stories, so many words.
But although my next post will be a farewell, it is actually welcome, is to make way for a new era to begin now. Shortly. In a few days.

I can only say one thing,

thanks, thanks and thanks.

Tiffany Granath Stripper

We toured the small forest that was near your cottage.
Are you tired? "I asked. might be pregnant -answered-but no, I'm used to walking on earth and stones.
thin I told you about what you saw, how well you were the blue rimmed glasses, and those old friends are old and are not our friends. I laughed and I could have cast into the laughter laughter small stitching with that old wound left open once, but this time he was forgotten.
Your Father, are you still painting? and telling war stories "I asked softly.
My Father, yes, still painting, and continues with the story I told you almost fell asleep while -answer me without removing your eyes from the road of earth and stones.
I do not sleep. I remember all the stories, do you count them? -I answer, not to look into your eyes.
smile. No thanks -smiles again. Pretty I have with my Father, "he concluded, laughing and looks. Yes, your eyes. That look. I forget that look full of uncertainties. I remember the last time we look and you told me you wanted to be alone, you did not want me around again. And that view contradicted your words. I repeated over and over again, I would miss, which would pass bad, and not being selfish not tell you Who else that you would miss would be me. And I kept quiet.
I give a box of colors, and inside are all the letters that I wrote and I never let you go. Why did you come to live so far away? "I ask trembling.
And you stay silent. I imagine that your father's illness doctors told you that clean air will do you good. But as you, I'd do some good to you this pure air, this loneliness? . I answer no.
We stopped on the road. You have left the box on a stone and you sat holding my hand tightly and not let go an instant.
When are you going to assimilate his death?. You to accept it, please. She is dead. He died that day. I also imagine it hanging around here, and even smell the almond biscuits cooked and filled the whole house smell. But you have to move on. She is not. He left us, unfortunately, 5 years ago. And you, girl, come back each year to meet her in this old wooden house, but never find. Because unfortunately she is dead.
daughter, takes up this box of letters. She can not read this. And, ever.
not ever come back here. She is not, you have to assimilate it - strikes me at the temples with his fingers. You have to understand: you have to bury that pain. Do not think like Father I do not miss it. The look behind the trees, and when the night seems to listen to for help in the forest. But it is my imagination. Just as your imagination is yours.

Take the train and not return. My daughter is dead and every time you come in search of you die a little and kill me a little.

Tamil Poems In English About Mother

Goodbye

Granada. Do not you imagine how beautiful it is Granada. But today I return to leave behind. And back to my home. My home is not here. I can not find my home in any corner of this beautiful city: a city that has seen me grow, fall in love, break up for the first time, and up, and heal my wounds. But I do not feel at home. Stay with a friend, Anne, and tell him I can not wait to return to Barcelona, \u200b\u200bthese streets are still full of desolation and memories. That even if I walk down the street I can see that Seat rise in blue, and that still gives me vertigo past and find the truth in the street.

writing this post from long ago, long time, it was my room at my sister's computer. That was all that far. I thought I shudder to walk on the terrace, that of which I spoke once, and yet I had no desire or to peek and see the sights, which once captivated me, and that many times in the distance I desired have. However, once here, everything changes. Now I just want to take a plane and go. I want to be Monday, I want to come early to go to my work, I want to go home and have a bowl of cereal with you. I want to catch that plane, malditasea, be by your side and take me in your strong hand. And once I'm gone, I return to Granada, but I want you back. And give a kiss on each corner. Inventing new memories with you in this city, which still has so much agony and sadness. However, I've had also.

And now I hear the sound of the swords of my brother.
And now, here comes the smell of coconut colony of my sister. And I hear
dishes and glasses in the kitchen screaming (my mother scrubbing).

Now, I know I only got an hour and a half to get away from here. To lose this smell, now, to lose this moment, this very moment I write this in the same place, exact place, where once I discovered that the Internet would revolutionize my life.
Now, between the noise and the things I say farewell to a strange but beautiful Granada.
and return. I always will. But I hope the next time it caught in your hand.
I'm afraid to fly, I'm afraid of airplanes.
And say goodbye, but my home is in another place, too. I am afraid that. Goodbye

family. Goodbye friends. Goodbye Granada.

How Do I Play Pokemon Snap On Sixtyforce

Granada City

cobbled street - Granada

walk through the house. Cats are hiding, not see them. I hear that kind of silence that can leave you deaf. That silence that settles in your ears and will not. Shuffling walk. I had never experienced this loneliness so strange, yet pleasant melancholy. Absence chew up the aisle, I look in the mirror and the rosto seriously I tell myself: "you have not yet gone" . I find the questions to my answers. I feel afraid to leave this city. A being kidnapped in the other and not let me return to this other life that I have found and where I am so happy. I have afraid to go, yet it was I who bought that ticket dated today.

mumbled something, that I can not understand or me. However I have wanted to walk around that city. Feel free of guilt, free of bad memories, free of bad company. Now it seems that smile, and I have to go look in the bathroom mirror to see if it's true.
Upon entering the room I have afraid to leave you here, so surrounded me, so together and so alone. I want to take me. I'm not going to do. Because I can.
will go to the places that hurt so much. I'll look those streets, which once witnessed so much pain, so much sorrow and unhappiness. And do not hurt me. Do not hurt me to see those streets paved. Do not feel that sharp pain in the stomach, or those nerves. Or miss the bus back home.

I'll love city, as I call it.

walk down the corridor, shuffling. I sink to the ground, sat by lying under and why I still have not gone and I'll see you in two hours.
The smell fills the house. I know it's not. I get up, go to the kitchen.
The cake has been charred.

you soon.

How To Take The Phlegm Out Of My Baby

Happy Birthday love

Today is your birthday. I called you. I have not forgotten, as I did that year: I would never head the August 31, however, that terrible year had finally gotten off my mind, I forgot your birthday. I said I was sorry I did not want you off my mind 100%. But unwillingly took. You see. I remember back to our respective birthday we sent them a box full of gifts, things made for us: drawings, photos, a ring or bracelet , things like that. I remember I liked the way you had to get with that box full of surprises, birthday cheer. But let's send those box. Because little little, to be the woman of my life, spent be the woman he was going to have less contact the rest of my life . Years since we've seen, and nothing happens. I know you're okay, so little to tell me. You do not read my blog, I write it here. If not, perhaps, remain silent. I've bought something, anything, silly. And as we talked, as spoken by people who call for commitment (and why I did not call for commitment, but the conversation has gone as if it were), I asked you to send me a message to the mobile address home, to send "it" that I've purchased. This morning I've said I would send the message with your address, I'm still waiting . And if it will not.

Must see in what way we parted. You who taught me many good things. You, you were everything, and now with this distance are nothing. You, you helped me so much and taught me the value of many things, and that one day no more, I said goodbye that way. And today I have the audacity to talk about you here. Because here usually talk about important things. And you, you ... Despite this hobby of yours to get away, you are important. That's why I write. So, I tell you today that although the nonsense that I've bought never comes, I can always combine them with other things that you never sent and are still here, in some drawer.

Happy Birthday.

427 Ss Trucks For Sell

Friday, holiday cooking and kitchen memories

On Friday, at work, we breathe a different air. You see people smiling more and more eager to work. However, my boss, the more nervous Friday is when it is.
And now everything was different. Talking faces (happiness, leisure, plans), I did not say anything. During the month of August, on Friday we went out before work, and while almost all of my colleagues complain and say that instead of the three could go out at 2. More than one I would like my see them working 15 hours straight, burning his hands with bleach, having to squeeze a sponge to clean the marks left by glasses in the bar of metal. More than one, yes, more than one "he muttered.
I would like to see them wondering why the boss use much bleach to lighten the cloth. I would like to see their injuries later, and that smell ... the smell of bleach in the skin that appears not to want to leave.

But there they are. Complaining about this, what else. Now, I'm happy, is this working?. Sorry, no. Work was to carry boxes of cola, dark basement. Is to push that car with five boxes of Coke, a ramp 20 meters that seemed to never end. And the back pain. The calluses on the palms. That feeling of apathy and resignation. That, comrades, this was work, not what we do. That, to me, sitting at the computer doing what I do, it's a little game that gives me wisdom and comfort. I have fun, entertain me. Nobody bothers me, treat me well. It does not hurt your back, or I get calluses on their hands or smell of bleach. Working 5 days a week, removing the holidays and vacations. What do you want me to say?. I've been lucky. And I'm glad I lived those days in those bars, all those things. Sure. All that I lived and I saw, I use today to appreciate more the work. To not complain foolishly and without reason.

And I see my, with strange tingling in my stomach. Because besides being Friday, my vacation starts today: I expected a bye week and days in Granada. Break, that laughter, as if I get tired when you're sitting at your computer every day, as I say, doing a job I like and entertains. But hey. lives and enjoy the moment -I repeat every day. Do not know what will last. So I use my free time to write, play what I like, reading, going out, doing crafts ....

Today, for example, we have kitchenettes: croquetas caseras y un pastel de queso. He aquí, la prueba:

Who Did The Yellow Power Ranger Die

¿Por qué tienes esa alfombra tan fea, y sucia en el lavabo? - me dices con cara de asco -.
Primero: no es una alfombra fea. Es una alfombrilla de baño, sí, eso que usan las personas normales y corrientes, para apoyar los pies cuando salen de la bañera. Y no esta sucia. Es de color gris y está mojada, quizá eso de sensación de sucia. Pero te equivocas, a ver si vamos mirando mejor, antes de abrir la boca.

Me haces preguntas extrañas. Preguntas sobre como coloco los libros en la estantería. "Why not put the big books, with large and small, with small, why the mix? . Do not mix. I like that. I like them as they are. So my mother put the encyclopedias at home, but this is not my mother, is mine. And I have them because that's how I like them.

You always, with that air of knowing everything. You are perfectly imperfect. You. You've held my hand so many times, and has released several others. You. You gave advice then you never applied. I looked and told me, seriously: I had to stop missing you . And you called me, called me in the mornings, afternoons and evenings. When fear and loneliness, you said, stormed home. And you wanted to go down to the portal to wait for my arrival, scantily clad. No. You're not here, on the walls of my house. Or on the walls of the heart you left so broken and so alone. No longer miss you, baby. And let's look at your photos. These photos, for which he asked as his eyes go over every one of my shelves, when asked by that I have hung posters on the walls.

What did you think the only among women. You thought only your hand could make my body tremble. And you were not alone. And I've noticed, while crossing legs, sitting on my couch, sofa gray. Well, I see that you like the gray tones - I say, without taking your eyes off mine. Yes, so you left my life when you left that day, and today is part of the past. The left gray. So I had to color it gray sole. Based on hosts on the wall give me a basis to scream your name, and trample your memories in the kitchen, my bed, bath, everywhere. And today, you just sit there and ask me why I like both gray what do you think, sweetie?. Come

. It's time you go. My life goes on when you walk out that door.
come to dinner tonight friends. Yes, those friends you fell so bad, because I stole the time that could have happened to you. Selfish . That I told you that night, just before sweating together in bed. I asked for forgiveness, would not say what he really thought and said. And I hurt. Smite me with your absence, with the calls that never did, to go alone to the movies, with citations to those who never came, with afternoons and evenings, when I called and said nothing.

Anyway.

And now you're here. And it seems to want to stay. But in this house, no place for you. Yes, sorry, but she knocks on the door. She? -questions. Yes You thought I was alone?. No. Long ago I stopped cooking your memories in the kitchen. She is ... Well, wait. I'll introduce. Ah
what you're leaving?. Very soon, right?. Sorry. not want to hurt you - I say, while firing at the door.
No, you hurt me, tranquil. Just that I still love - stutter.
back whenever you want, I say, smiling shyly.
do not think - tell me.

elevator and the noise bursts that leave space when you leave. You're gone. And it's funny, I feel a little empty.
A voice. From the lounge. Call me. She is. My love, my new love: my future.
I'm coming baby.
Coming.

Pain Inleft Gland After Drinking

When you save a book

I know I am clueless. I know that when I walk down the street with the mp3 in the ears, a book in his left hand, and the other in his pocket ..... I somewhat clueless. In my world. Mentally writing any scene, which adapt to the next chapter. Because sometimes, with small ideas that large.

And no, I was walking, there was only just leaving work, crossing the first pedestrian crossing, every day, and then the second, that I have not crossed, because it can not be called cross . The light was green, and I started to walk over the zebra crossing, but my attention has been focused on women of Pharmacy. That I always see, and I never know exactly what you think at 9 am, looking so lost and sad face. A man handed him something (not yet know it, and believe me I have this object in mind.) He gave something, and she smiled as she held the thing in hand. And it was at that time, when I encountered, had just finished crossing the crosswalk, I encountered not know that yet, and I dropped everything that I am long (almost one meter seventy). I've been lying facedown on the sidewalk, staring at the girl with the sad face with the thing in hand. I got up as fast as I could. The girl has approached me, I wanted to offer help, but I said that was fine, and I thanked him. " I saved the book eh? - he says -". I smile. Yes Yes

and fled. Because what we've done can not be called otherwise. He fled the scene. Recalling that the girl wanted to heal the knee and elbow, which I have touched me. And yes, he was right not to carry the book in his left hand, I would have scratched the face, hand and whole arm. But I had to fall with his face on the book, and the same arm, has also fallen on it, thus, the worst part he has taken the book, which is completely shaved below (A pity, because it was new). I was not aware of the pain and scrapes that the book has saved me until I assimilated my fall, which was when I saw the white pants dirty and broken. Then the scene came to my head, I in the ground, which I took to get up, fall down on. Then the girl from the pharmacy that wanted me the cure, and I said I was perfect, and a horn! was cast pieces, but I did not discover that it was that man gave him, and that has so captured my attention and made me not look at the floor, and stumble. I did not want so little, to be near her, I did not discover her face to be sad at 9 am. Like imagine.

When I come home I have made appropriate cures. My elbow has been well:



If the picture is not appreciated at all, the huge scrape that I've done. But I decided to teach the elbow, and to do my knee because I have unpleasant raw right now. So you better elbow.

And here, the book that saved my life these days ............... often thought billet book to take to work everyday. It weighs an egg. Thought, looks have not begun to read my other, which was more finite, as there had to be this. Because I had to save the coup. And, true, books, Sometimes, we also save lives.

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was once a girl who hated Hi5 ...

Yes, but everybody had it, friends, co-workers, my family, my enemy / as everyone! Even knew / know people who do not mail account used or knew some Internet browsers or URL's, but Hi5 yes "to order" was so I joined the masses: P in a day last year and I have my account .


Why do I mention and more propaganda (of which already have enough Hi5? I'm just barbecue for some things, with Hi5 user and just post there, the following in a section that invokes the "Dear Diary": ****


No, no, no, please!

My very very dear friends and people who visit my Hi5 and your friends or friends.

Do you know why I have that face of shock and surprise in this my only post for Hi5? Well, I mean, she would take into consideration:

tapestries ** No profile, the page becomes highly charged, if they are at least choose colors, between the f that has the color contrast with the sources they choose. **

not add unnecessary gadgets, Hi5 enough that it took me to load and we get reports of 'new friends' of people who know and are not "friends" of our friends. **

not you play music, for which there who listen to music on the desktop or laptop, and might bother to listen to the bands / singers favorite / os in "background" (also slows down the entry to see your profile and relatives) **

not populate your page with videos, URLs and could leave us a visit or find the music or video you want to see and like both.

** If you post (leave comments) please use characters 'humane' or at least stop 'simplify everything' that we all understand your 'language' :-), emoticons are allowed: P, carateriza Your textit.

If you consider these minimum rules can visit your Hi5 without denying :-) but I just do not take the trouble of waiting for it to load your page and I can not see your pictures, much less leave them nice post.

Total Thanks! Hugs, hugs, hugs ...

PS: I also thank you not write to my Hotmail account that I use only for email and related evidence. Could choose to write me always used Gmail account and forward: silvia.sugasti (at) gmail.com

-

and Colorín Colorado is how I explained what I bother with this network, in other case almost same, but luckily for most of my mine friends have good criterion to 'decorate' or not Muhahaha spaces.

Sugasti Silvia :-)

[Adeene]: Reviving the blog to go from quejona, also in these parts (same as my twitter : P)