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  <title>TRaVeRS | oRPHeuS</title>
  <subtitle>TRaVeRS | oRPHeuS</subtitle>
  <author>
    <name>TRaVeRS | oRPHeuS</name>
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  <updated>2008-07-28T15:49:34Z</updated>
  <lj:journal username="faithlesslyre" type="personal"/>
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    <id>urn:lj:scribbld.net:atom1:faithlesslyre:1807</id>
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    <title>faithlesslyre @ 2008-07-28T11:45:00</title>
    <published>2008-07-28T15:47:12Z</published>
    <updated>2008-07-28T15:49:34Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;center&gt;&lt;a name="cutid1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v503/savvi4sirius/lettah.jpg"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:scribbld.net:atom1:faithlesslyre:1637</id>
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    <title>faithlesslyre @ 2008-05-25T14:59:00</title>
    <published>2008-05-25T19:03:27Z</published>
    <updated>2008-05-25T19:03:27Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;a name="cutid1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="ljcut" text="private"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I hate her. I hate the ground she walks on, I hate the way she smells &lt;strike&gt;actually I like the way she smells &lt;/strike&gt;I fucking hate her. Why the hell did I ever agree to this? This is fucking hell, fucking hell. Nothing gets done, I can't even do my work because I'm either thinking about why I didn't win our last fight, pleased I've gotten the upper-hand or plotting how to keep it. She's making me fucking insane. I can't take living like this. This has got to end. It's going to be me or her, and I'm &lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt;NOT&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt; letting her ruin my life anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strike&gt;Help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking of getting the library re-furnished. Narcissa, you know the lighting in there. How would you suggest I assist my wife in doing so?</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:scribbld.net:atom1:faithlesslyre:1339</id>
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    <title>faithlesslyre @ 2008-05-23T14:19:00</title>
    <published>2008-05-23T18:22:02Z</published>
    <updated>2008-05-23T18:22:02Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Darling wife, I wanted to remind you that I'd be home early tonight from work. As I write this, I'm cleaning off my desk and should be heading home shortly.</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:scribbld.net:atom1:faithlesslyre:1168</id>
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    <title>oh dear</title>
    <published>2008-02-15T14:59:16Z</published>
    <updated>2008-02-15T14:59:16Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;a name="cutid1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congratulations are in order. I'm marrying the most difficult, albeit quite lovely, creature known to wizarding kind. Ah the paradoxes of life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone know Juliana well enough to help me get the upper hand in this situation?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And did anyone actually see this coming?&lt;br /&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:scribbld.net:atom1:faithlesslyre:888</id>
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    <title>faithlesslyre @ 2008-02-14T16:23:00</title>
    <published>2008-02-14T21:28:26Z</published>
    <updated>2008-02-14T21:28:54Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Just dropping a quick note here before I head off to dinner with the family. I wanted to wish everyone a Happy Valentine's Day. Mine so far as been quite positive, since there isn't much the Ministry needs to deal with. Everyone seems in high spirits so maybe it will carry through for a day or two and the paperwork can be minimal for the next week, yes? 
&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;
&lt;a name="cutid1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Oddly enough, I received an urgent owl from my father not even an hour ago that I'm expected to meet them for family dinner with the Wilkes in an hour or so. Of course it's not as if I have a whole lot planned for the night except turning in early so as to be able to function tomorrow at work but what if I had some sort of plans? I can't believe my life has come down to dinner plans with my parents and their friends. I didn't even know we were friends with the Wilkes. I blame my mother. Ivy probably knits with her or perhaps they're in the same flower arranging circle, whatever silly old women do these days.
&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;
Alas, duty calls.&lt;/i&gt;
</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:scribbld.net:atom1:faithlesslyre:650</id>
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    <title>Valentine</title>
    <published>2008-02-08T21:44:42Z</published>
    <updated>2008-02-08T21:45:05Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Valentine's Day is around the corner once again. There are little heart-bubbles floating around our Ministry department and every time someone goes to pop one you get three or so more. I wonder who the genius was who thought up that little trick?
&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;
&lt;a name="cutid1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;i&gt;
Is it my fault that I think this is possibly the best holiday ever created by industry? Who cares if it's been commercialized till the point of near-nonrecognition. Celebrating the sanctity of love at least once a year helps the rest of the world manage to schlep through. 
&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;
Now, if only Valentines lead to love which lead to marriage. When I can figure out that cosmic dilemma there will be hope for all the destitute bachelors out there. Until then, I'll be going home to my bottle and enjoying my bubble hearts in the lonely company of my own bed.
&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;
Surprisingly you would think I'm depressed this time of year. I'm in an unusually good mood as a matter of fact.
&lt;/i&gt;</content>
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