Template Fiddling

I'm going to be fiddling round with templates etc. for a bit. Bare with me.
My old template is copied and saved into a word file if, in the end, I can't figure out what I'm doing.
Again, please bare with me.

A small realization to breathe life back into this blog:

I was just watching "Bringing Home Baby" on TLC and I've come to the conclusion that if I EVER have a child (if, IF), I'm only having one. The poor 4 year old just could not cope with having a new sister, it was so sad!
I would never allow a child to loose his or her sense of belonging in my imagined family unit.
One child. Tada! D:

Again, that's IF.

Quick Letter of Seriousness:

I'm by no means an artist, but I like to doodle, and I follow Suzi Blu so I like to think that I can be an artist if I want, either way, everyone should listen to this. Seriously.

Poems for the __ done:

16th, 17th, 18th, 19th, 20th, 21st, 22nd, 23rd, 24th, 25th, 26th, 27th.

Tsk tsk, bad me!

I know, I haven't kept up. I have my reasons though. I'm back home, and even though one might think "Yay! Home!" it's taking me forever to get used to it all again. I've been handing out applications and resumes again and may possibly get myself an interview with a woman who owns a landscaping business. It would be very hard work, but I could do it. I'm strong, I mean, I've always been told I'm strong, and I don't like to toot my own horn, but I think there's some validity to those claims. This ain't all fat, you know. Well...I'd like to think that some of this isn't all fat...
Anyway, I'm a tad busy, and I think I've come to face the realization that I'm lactose-intolerant. So no more cheese for me. (In other words, I'm having stomach problems again.)
I have a few poems, waiting in the ranks (not enough, though, to fill up the days missed, I'm still working on that), that I shall post back-dated since some (if not most) of them were actually written some days ago, I'm just a lazy poster. :/
I'll get on that soon, though. (:

Poem, Day 21

Everything I do,
everything I feel
is based on,
riding on
the belief in love,
the need for love
and the illusion that
everything is ruled by love.
Every action,
thought
and wish I partake in
is based on a romantic fantasy,
novel,
film,
or song and I am
terrified
that, soon,
I will stop believing in love and that
soon,
nothing in my life
will hold any meaning
because, to me,
the endless search for a fantastic kind of love
is what is holding the threads together.

When my heart finally succumbs
to the cynicism in my head…
then what?