tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-140542842024-03-07T15:00:23.075-08:00blush realitythe only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone when you're uncool.Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.comBlogger355125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-52588951678606154042011-02-25T11:24:00.000-08:002011-02-25T11:33:31.988-08:00Mad Men<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsafM31khD465LKLza5fy-XxE5a6OzximiRthf_DlJYRodW-YDECk65l0sjoTGCpcez5DL9s7G37KNy16aBEx5yqutUD_AuC0lP4hGKcF6itHAdnohmdW7KsYa6BhP7JDt4CYJ/s1600/070718_TV_madMenEX.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsafM31khD465LKLza5fy-XxE5a6OzximiRthf_DlJYRodW-YDECk65l0sjoTGCpcez5DL9s7G37KNy16aBEx5yqutUD_AuC0lP4hGKcF6itHAdnohmdW7KsYa6BhP7JDt4CYJ/s320/070718_TV_madMenEX.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577712046538779826" /></a><br />Men. What to do with them? As soon as my old boss at the hotel found out I got a new job, he wanted me back. Madness. I guess thats just how the male sex rolls, as soon as they can't have something they want it back. BUT that's okay with me. After a week or so at The Finish Line, I was having terrible panic attacks and I realized that the job wasn't for me, not now, in my recovery. I've been switching medications like a drug addict to get myself back to normal. I have so many pill bottles I feel like an elderly person. And in light of that, I just couldn't continue with the job, plus....<div><br /><div>I GOT MY OLD JOB BACK!</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-66021753717460073652011-02-13T07:47:00.000-08:002011-02-13T14:16:15.031-08:00Up and Down<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbEjgxgjCBT3kdviEzlOWIyCO1AGWRCiUEJD0d0LgbgiPKRqWUOTqfj7tp2-TSeXZwbU6WzqJFO9ofL6ViWfg96nkmjr3XGlbl8BAAQUkJNTpLNeHCoQ80snhOdKGWdLf8jO8I/s1600/accomplishment.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 220px; height: 159px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbEjgxgjCBT3kdviEzlOWIyCO1AGWRCiUEJD0d0LgbgiPKRqWUOTqfj7tp2-TSeXZwbU6WzqJFO9ofL6ViWfg96nkmjr3XGlbl8BAAQUkJNTpLNeHCoQ80snhOdKGWdLf8jO8I/s320/accomplishment.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573207520008533746" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Yesterday was up and down. I started a new job, because my old boss at the hotel was dragging his feet and I couldn't wait any longer for cash flow. I started to panic, and put feelers out into the employment world and got some applications, etc. An old friend of mine, </span><i style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: small; "><b>Robbie</b></i><span class="Apple-style-span">, just started her own marketing business after leaving the ministry to focus on her family, so being such close friends, I called her to pray with me about my situation... and she told me she had a job for me! A client of hers, owner of a local business called </span><i style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: small; "><b>The Finish Line Sports Sub Shop</b></i><span class="Apple-style-span"> had hired her because he needed a new manager and pretty much all new employees due to mismanagement by the old GM and crew. In a matter of a few text messages I had an interview the next morning at 10am. Needless to say, I got the job, and am being considered as the main candidate for <i>General Manager!</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">It's a salary position, which would be my first. starts at 26k/year, and although that may not sound like much, it's still over twice as much as I've ever made per year, even with 3 jobs! This is an amazing opportunity for me, and I am so excited. Many people would see going from a hotel to food service as a downgrade, but food service is so fun. However, so was my old job at the hotel.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I did my orientation at work yesterday for about 2 hours and learned the basics and had a great time. My new boss and I really hit it off. But then I got home, and it hit me, <i>I'm not going back to work at the hotel. </i>I had just COUNTED on it, and I LOVED that job. Loved the job, loved the guests, loved the staff, loved my boss. And it's gone now. All gone. I only have myself and my illness to blame.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Everyone thinks I'm crazy because <b><i>The Finish Line</i></b> affords a much larger opportunity (indeed, a life-changing opportunity) but it still hurts when you lose something you love, and it's still scary to start a new job, especially one with potentially more responsibility and stress. I will miss the <b><i>Holiday Inn Express</i></b> so much, but hopefully the new job will be everything it promises to be.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>Wow I just talked to my new boss and he was so impressed with me in the 2 hours I worked yesterday that he put me on the schedule for 30 hours instead of the agreed-upon 15 to be orientated. In addition, he's going out of town for a couple days and leaving the store with ME. I am really excited but nervous, but more excited. It's looking more and more like management!</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-77500069672964305442011-02-09T06:28:00.001-08:002011-02-09T07:34:20.942-08:00Colorful Colorado<div><div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPVMb0sspMQwugiPmZRr_VcsY8mcNyF6bGM54lmIbhtgsN-KMQpAuyCQ9_yyCAiuDNPWjIq4mEhiDIcU7Yy8IQoVZ3mjnto-kHYlFaq9_tPHHOcUqmIljaCF9l-W6QgNflnS1j/s320/Copper+mountain+scenery.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571709826841927266" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It was like 57 degrees out and sunny, and when we finally got to Copper Mountain we saw the snow, beautiful champagne powder as far as the eye could see. I had missed it so!</div></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaj0jF7W3RKFOgriVycc7PN6YTtBbUaiDZ_kRj8RNGfmBg92n_ewSsITkp35PxF5UHFkzRBbDVeeJDaCBhnwmrGDths4FRz_SOhWJ6tLvFgZ6jJYPh2o7kOLA0hNBunqN7Y-Az/s320/Molly+copper+mnt+2.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571710093968829266" /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmDvoB4tx1LVas4YaiVrsfiygqHvsUxy0x0ZrdgqE1Km9FT4qfhtdPo7w3Pw6ALOdOfDCS70RVVwvyPJS2aanHpGyCGLZGSZLt2ps09cdbV0xqbVLJa2Aw0yD9Ej-4dfAnMnSP/s320/Mee+and+dee+copper+mnt.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571710707036747346" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Hot Chocolate with a Shot of Vanilla Vodka :)</div><div><br /></div><div> On the Slopes with Danielle at Copper Mountain.</div><div><br /></div><div>Skiing was a dream. Amazing conditions and warm so that you could even wear your jacket open. I hadn't skied in TEN YEARS so I was very nervous, but it's just as they say, as soon as I put my skis on it was like getting on a bike!</div><div><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Wre-Kb2rXIF4wupVoJzmZPQClSLLqW4NGewudxLQq-Tto49mly2Vw9T0DlnJUDbbas4Tvi_335vzdctPkDA_oRl8AzvrpOqz7vyVhN1JNSCSXkz4rI9lr2z5_CwEwxra7VCm/s320/Cherry+creek.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571707187209920706" /><div></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiINW5cOB_4U6cz2Lyj5FOtTTcFikFT3kDtE0NwFS_3A6IIrqXL6C8nGiafDHVa6H8ErACBKU2IEqGa7SB4pkIRKtPvaWzPg4eofSGHRB8MoMGb3-Jpyp6AzYDVuUK7s1FKzzA3/s320/With+jen+quinn.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571707869388075458" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>Danielle</i></b> had a meeting at her work in the Cherry Creek area of Downtown Denver (a quite trendy part of town) so I hung out there waiting for her meeting to be over.</div><div>It just so happened that an old friend of mine from high school, <b><i>Jennifer,</i></b> lives only a couple blocks away from the bar I was hanging out in and we got to catch up. Small world!</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8kU_QyKfXfVg7ziaq7x1-o_7JXSwr76hA1lw4Lv-DxCp5we660xqlB-aPox4ByQcP5KiMnV2jxPW2acCJhGbxD8-WPwhl3e9BOVvq8BmGdcCEcTTl3tW2TsMHk8yprCliiR8i/s320/In+boulder.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571708121507404946" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We took a trip to Boulder, a quaint college town, and had a our picture taken in (a) boulder.</div><div>My favorite picture from the entire week!</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-3423325620659629602011-02-07T07:25:00.000-08:002011-02-07T07:45:48.798-08:00Alive Again<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaz5oyXpHjFEF0A-Ip17kvjo7KvD2cDJLdB85iPq8nwXqaw_P70CKHUtRMNgHXiIf6lVVs-_UlQtuR_vaWzT6uyqk0p_4U24ZP6_QH6yJKh5qRXtFx9dszAdy0VMGgGSeT6nkb/s1600/eminem_enough.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaz5oyXpHjFEF0A-Ip17kvjo7KvD2cDJLdB85iPq8nwXqaw_P70CKHUtRMNgHXiIf6lVVs-_UlQtuR_vaWzT6uyqk0p_4U24ZP6_QH6yJKh5qRXtFx9dszAdy0VMGgGSeT6nkb/s320/eminem_enough.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570973525716131570" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span"><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I’m alive again</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span">More alive than I have been</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span">In my whole entire life I can</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">See these people’s ears perk up as I begin<br />To spaz with the pen,</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">I’m a little bit sicker than most<br />Shit’s finna get thick again...</span></span><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-59010349494378114902011-02-03T08:53:00.000-08:002011-02-06T20:33:35.642-08:00Tragic But True<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc7cHeEhOvlAJsOKkUADR6OQuxfW-qkZcFuRcsSWYcLjn-lUqXtDsuf1q0m_qBGN6PMnKIActcsMJmvXsIcz69t9j5mitGNkU6zCzvAf3JXoMdJm8EMpOG-j4PzAqCFTa75YfS/s1600/elvira-amrhein-in-truth-there-is-love.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 317px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc7cHeEhOvlAJsOKkUADR6OQuxfW-qkZcFuRcsSWYcLjn-lUqXtDsuf1q0m_qBGN6PMnKIActcsMJmvXsIcz69t9j5mitGNkU6zCzvAf3JXoMdJm8EMpOG-j4PzAqCFTa75YfS/s320/elvira-amrhein-in-truth-there-is-love.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569509433593130530" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span"><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div>The time that I've wasted is my biggest regret;</div></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Stuck in this place I will never forget.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Memories of past times always stay near;</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">But vanquished by this waking nightmare.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I lie awake at night while others sleep;</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">A stream of pictures swarm my mind with each heartbeat.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I await the day I can be with my Love;</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Praying incessantly to the heavens above.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Until then I must lie in this blistering hell;</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Confined due to my very own will.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Hear me now, lost souls, heed my words;</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Don't allow the darkness to overpower your urge.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">We are all on this path, sometimes tragic, always true;</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">But if you stop looking down, the whole world awaits you!</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-18989688774847123912011-02-03T01:33:00.001-08:002011-02-05T10:58:07.151-08:00Like Shooting Stars...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinGOWNjLw4vZxhebR4X-N6QI-Ma0rdTz9AjX-NXmwFzDchLzWOqLZG8LB2k5NhS99K0NpMTy3aZW1pjRst9e0XQoOhpdHDfnp17zszqTYhn_DzMH1M4BYOqBDc5juEUL5HTuFH/s1600/good-friends-are-like-stars-pos.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinGOWNjLw4vZxhebR4X-N6QI-Ma0rdTz9AjX-NXmwFzDchLzWOqLZG8LB2k5NhS99K0NpMTy3aZW1pjRst9e0XQoOhpdHDfnp17zszqTYhn_DzMH1M4BYOqBDc5juEUL5HTuFH/s320/good-friends-are-like-stars-pos.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569394212575210626" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now.</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-53128498445468541232011-02-01T06:37:00.000-08:002011-02-06T06:43:04.783-08:00Who Will?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMdGo1WD6T_UGxaXj03DC3H5Ob-M-VT0n-E82Yh8xxERKeb5yTYIrIj_c1E1UCLZMoozkNgqe5qw3EweuCE4khi1RO2w-F545FWCbdsHmn3OnGs0xZYT_W2E9Ac0pOChLY17ap/s1600/craziness.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 193px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMdGo1WD6T_UGxaXj03DC3H5Ob-M-VT0n-E82Yh8xxERKeb5yTYIrIj_c1E1UCLZMoozkNgqe5qw3EweuCE4khi1RO2w-F545FWCbdsHmn3OnGs0xZYT_W2E9Ac0pOChLY17ap/s320/craziness.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568761253615348962" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Sometimes the thoughts floating in my head turn on me. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Well, most of the time. I understand who, what, when, and where, </span>but not why.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I don't understand why they turn on the situations they turn on. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Thats a lie, yes I do.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I am jealous, envious, so so envious.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I want what they have so badly I can taste it. So, so badly.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I want a man that loves me, one that will take care of me and help me make supper.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I want a house with all my beloved things and photos and loved ones.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I want enough money to pay the bills for those things, and to afford organic foods.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I want a marriage filled with fun and with laughter and love...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I want a love to end them all.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Now I want these things, but I am dubious as to how they could ever come to fruition d</span>ue to my chronic illness.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I am Bipolar, and although it doesn't make me feel any less, I know people do think of me as so.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Because of my illness, my past isn't a very pretty picture. </span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Because of my illness, my present isn't a very pretty picture.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Because of my illness, I do not know what the future holds.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">It hurts when I see the normal people.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">The normal people who live their lives normally.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Their lives make so much sense, they get married and have kids, and they don't bounce checks.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">They don't have to take medication morning, noon, and night, nor do they have to be hospitalized for stability at times.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">They are already STABLE.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Stability: the one thing I long for; </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I hold on to it so tight that sometimes it gets destroyed and I find myself...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Completely out of control.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Two of my friends just got engaged, just now... IT KEEPS HAPPENING.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I am happy for them, really I am, but...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Will it ever be my turn?? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Would it??</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Could it???</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I fear not.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Who will want my past?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Who will want my present?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Who will want my uncertain future??</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-66223169795583004142011-01-28T01:48:00.000-08:002011-01-28T19:57:18.221-08:00To Blog Or Not To Blog?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QrDirsknq2AyVSf29FY-__DVISQBUzsCTkYECwl72aR0Ggp13zLuW9T2U1t9OeYzh1lis_hdSeOin01GfK507Wgt6jxDk_gRB-MCC9Xtk35N-czy3t2_8GPys85kaKOG_2kj/s1600/Downtown+denver.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QrDirsknq2AyVSf29FY-__DVISQBUzsCTkYECwl72aR0Ggp13zLuW9T2U1t9OeYzh1lis_hdSeOin01GfK507Wgt6jxDk_gRB-MCC9Xtk35N-czy3t2_8GPys85kaKOG_2kj/s320/Downtown+denver.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567174491529936578" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span"><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I look and I like.</span></div></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I look and I like what I see.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I look and I like what I see in my married friends' home.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I envy the thought of Them.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I looked around Downtown tonight.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I looked around Downtown tonight and liked what I saw.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I looked around Downtown and I saw lots of beautiful people.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I envy the thought of Them.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I met a guy.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I met a cute guy.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I met a cute guy named Aaron.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I envy the thought of a cute guy named Aaron.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I lie in a bed.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I lie in a bed that's not mine.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I lie in a bed that's not mine but not His...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I envy the thought of Him.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: small; ">I remember me.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I remember me in Love.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I remember me in Love with Him.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I envy the thought of Me.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I love you.<br />I love you lots.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I love you lots with a cherry on top.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I envy the thought of You.</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-27468852682100688292011-01-20T17:00:00.001-08:002011-02-03T06:22:00.010-08:00I Shit You Not<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhywuGvuhlMvUcLxleicUIe6XLBiqjdp29fccFglyijOlQ2zxPeN1UAXvkFB-S1hqPbOZ1AzkJbiLVt8n5jhpdkFfrZk-kF_VSdDLgzN5wdGsKwD6W-UMIHfvhPRUZaGdc3k_AX/s1600/co+captains.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhywuGvuhlMvUcLxleicUIe6XLBiqjdp29fccFglyijOlQ2zxPeN1UAXvkFB-S1hqPbOZ1AzkJbiLVt8n5jhpdkFfrZk-kF_VSdDLgzN5wdGsKwD6W-UMIHfvhPRUZaGdc3k_AX/s320/co+captains.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564437990636899170" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I'm glad you liked the pictures, that was my point! The one of us in our field uniforms I have framed in a <i><b>Starmakers</b></i> frame, ...remember those?? It's in my room <b><i>right now</i></b>, I shit you not. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I love that picture, always have!</span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >And BE GLAD you were chubby THEN because you're so SO THIN NOW! And gorgeous! I have the opposite problem, I'm pretty chubby NOW as opposed to THEN, and yes our hair WAS pretty out there! Ha!</span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Anyway, yeah. The hospital I checked into was sort of a mental hospital. People with all kinds of non-emergency room/non-surgical problems go there, but I went for stability on my medication because I was having real problems with stress making my body give out physically and it got pretty bad, I was VERY weak. Then I relapsed on drugs and had some serious suicidal thoughts. I called Dr. Pat Todd and she suggested I go, and I was down because<b><i> I just want to get better</i></b>.</span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >I don't mind telling you the dirty details because it's you and me sweetie, heh!</span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >They rediagnosed me with Bipolar 1 which is more manic (Bipolar 2 is more depressed) MIXED meaning I have episodes of more manic or more depressed, with Panic Disorder and Substance Abuse issues. But in the hospital I had a Harvard-Educated Psychiatrist (who looked just like Uncle Phil from<i> <b>The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air</b></i>, actually) and he helped me to get on the proper medication for my diagnosis, and observation was simply necessary for such a drastic change.</span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >And yes, I have taken medication for many years now. I started taking an Anti-Depressant our senior year of high school, back when those pics were taken actually. I started seeing Dr. Gonzalez, who helped me SO much for the 10 years before she retired. I have you to thank really, because I dont know if you remember, but you suggested her to me way back then (because she had an ad in the <i><b>Panther Pride</b></i> calendar.)</span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >I had THOUGHT the medication was working, but now that I've been to the hospital (<i><b>Brentwood Hospital</b></i> in Shreveport, LA) I that realize that it WASN'T, not like the meds I'm on NOW. They reworked everything, and the therapy sessions were pretty intense. Imagine a therapy session from 7am-9pm with a 2 hour break and 3 meals and with 5 smoke breaks (thank GOD!). </span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >But yeah. We did a lot of good "work" and I realize where many of my problems <b><i>truly</i></b> lie and what I need to work with Dr. Todd on. (I LOVE HER, we text all the time!) I have suppressed a lot of shame, guilt, fear, and anger over these nearly 29 years and it's finally coming out in a healthy way, rather than drug abuse which is only me trying to hurt myself, really. That and sabotaging every good thing in my life, thinking that I dont deserve it (subconsciously of course.)</span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Things really <b>WERE</b> going well for me, especially last time we talked. I always get uptight and usually have some kind of breakdown over Christmas, and this year was especially bad because I just always want everything to be <b><i>perfect</i></b> for everyone, but it seemed like everybody around me wanted to fight, sometimes <b><i>with</i></b> me, even my extended family (and that NEVER<b> </b>happens! We just talk shit about each other on the phone later, heh!) </span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >So yeah when you have mental issues things can fall apart really quickly, before you even know it. Luckily I have a large support base, and my work was<b> </b>SUPER<b> </b>supportive and I will be able to come back to work after I get back from a recuperating ski vacation in Colorado the first week of February. I am going up to see my BFF <i><b>Danielle</b></i> in Denver and she's gonna take care of me for about a week or so, heh. Did I tell you I had been promoted to Front Desk Manager? My boss says I will make a lot of money for him one day, heh. I think I wanna go back to A&M for a bachelor's in Hotel Management. I LOVE the industry; so far so good!</span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Your encouragement and love mean so much to me Kimberly, really. Thank you so much for your kind words and prayers. I am so glad we made friends back in 8th grade drama class at <b>Junior High West. </b></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><b></b>Holler at me next time you find yourself in <b>L-Town</b>! </span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Love Always,</span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" ><b>Blush</b></span></i></div><div style="font-family: 'Segoe UI', Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(42, 42, 42); "> </div></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-82998256092679382362010-12-16T21:10:00.000-08:002011-02-03T21:11:23.698-08:00The Elusive One<span class="Apple-style-span"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtKfgMXxoMjStrkB_IqSwYuPledpoZFpO8qaOSaNah_BL1mjbW0bzTQYqnQzx9yib5jPpiYzW9xhjDGxpJzrXBHdiDjRsJzuxoiIEYFfRByRDVaO3O0-nB7pL2CgzAZTmbLYKC/s1600/with+jeremy+xmas+party+2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtKfgMXxoMjStrkB_IqSwYuPledpoZFpO8qaOSaNah_BL1mjbW0bzTQYqnQzx9yib5jPpiYzW9xhjDGxpJzrXBHdiDjRsJzuxoiIEYFfRByRDVaO3O0-nB7pL2CgzAZTmbLYKC/s320/with+jeremy+xmas+party+2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551515620276933602" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span">I might have found HIM, the elusive <b>ONE</b>. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">No kids, never been married. Good job, great family, my age.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"> Finally, a gentleman</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span">! Unfortunately, </span></span>I've never dated a <i><b>good guy</b></i>. Obviously, I am not that<i> </i>kind of girl.</span><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">We have TONS much in common, and <b>Jeremy</b> seems to truly like me for who I <i style="font-weight: bold; ">really </i>am.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">My parents LOVE him. In fact, my <b><i>Dad</i></b> picked him out for me! (They are even going deer hunting together next month in West Texas--my Dad thinks that he and Jeremy are best drinking buddies, heh.</span>)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">We grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same High School <i>and</i> College (Texas A&M University) but didn't formally meet until about 2 years ago at a tailgate party at an Aggie football game, even though our families are old friends! It's a small, small world when you're from a small, small town.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">We are taking it slow, very slow, because this JUST MIGHT be <b>IT</b> and there's<i> no way</i> I'm fucking <b>IT</b></span> up...<i>again!</i> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I'm getting way too old for that shit.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">We had our <b>first kiss</b> just last night.........and it was wonderful! I can't <i>wait</i> to see him again.</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-18102125658862514282010-12-05T08:15:00.000-08:002010-12-05T08:43:13.808-08:00A Very Special Thanks<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPmBtzwup7EwjR6esU-xgIzq3SRIYjQIWan7D0DO-GgHmcaY75jWntWA0FRdHzYzXx5tMfq4PFV72_p7JPDYg7UBoz0GOxZDrXyjEk0uvv8Z0wRzg0-QtYDHnzt0zB42Gcm8Rz/s1600/accomplishment41.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 205px; height: 178px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPmBtzwup7EwjR6esU-xgIzq3SRIYjQIWan7D0DO-GgHmcaY75jWntWA0FRdHzYzXx5tMfq4PFV72_p7JPDYg7UBoz0GOxZDrXyjEk0uvv8Z0wRzg0-QtYDHnzt0zB42Gcm8Rz/s320/accomplishment41.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547234134957446674" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Hey There Casey!</span></span></span></b></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I hope you are your family are doing well! Just a note to tell you thank you so much for teaching and showing me how to be a good office manager.</span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div></span></span><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >After working only a month at the hotel (<b>Holiday Inn Express</b> here in Lufkin) I took over for the Front Desk Manager who had to take maternity leave. I immersed myself in the work, as I was totally clueless at first, and now it's looking like I'm going to get promoted to Front Desk Manager permanently because I do a better job than her, and because my boss adores Lacy, I feel like I've really accomplished something!</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >But now my boss loves me more because apparently no one has ever been so organized and kept track of documents and all the administrative stuff AND do the regular shift work as well as me, and I attribute much of that to you, teaching me to write EVERYTHING down and make hard copies of EVERYTHING and files for EVERYTHING :)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I think I finally found where I belong. I LOVE hospitality, and this is the best job I've ever had (next to Powertrol, of course!) I absolutely love it. I think I want to stay in the hotel industry and make my job a career. Long overdue, I know, but at least now I know what the hell it is I want to do with my life!</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >In other news: I'm also finally seeing a "good guy" but taking it slow because I'm too old to fool around anymore! His name is <b>Jeremy Pittman</b>, uncle Dennis' best friend from High School's son. He was in the Corps at A&M and is best friends with little David, big David Cook's son. Daddy picked him out for me, and we are on the verge of seriously dating. It's crazy how Daddy can be right on when you least expect it.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Anyway, you helped me so much back then at Powertrol, and you're still helping me now!</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Thank you so much for taking an interest in me, I miss talking to you and even your lectures, heh! Thought you might want to know it really did help! :)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Love,</span></span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Blush</span></i></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-22717342545129160722010-11-26T18:29:00.001-08:002010-12-01T19:55:41.330-08:00One Hell of a Hiatus<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZne42Uv3cnhPM6RfiWEiSMd3MLvi81YtVe1HqYaVxZzWMlWlEAhesnyxENrcbuejZSntIOMoVQrb8ZJWd_FeEpLGB6I1LH46QihOAXEK3VjXuHPw9L_nn1ZAmP8wD_RxATCxw/s1600/pre+ceremony+toast.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZne42Uv3cnhPM6RfiWEiSMd3MLvi81YtVe1HqYaVxZzWMlWlEAhesnyxENrcbuejZSntIOMoVQrb8ZJWd_FeEpLGB6I1LH46QihOAXEK3VjXuHPw9L_nn1ZAmP8wD_RxATCxw/s320/pre+ceremony+toast.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544054343791530578" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><div style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Wow. I <i>finally</i> have something to talk about!</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Unemployed for six months, I had become extremely depressed. Let's just say I was a hot mess.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >However, <b><i>Danielle's</i></b> bachelorette party in <b>New Orleans</b> and wedding in downtown <b>Dallas </b>WAS fuckin <i>amazing--</i>and totally helped me see the light again.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Jason</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" > and I broke up but stayed best friends, living together with my mom, almost like brother and sister.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Strange, yes. Normal, not at all. But it worked for us somehow this summer. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >In September I got a job as the Front Desk Manager at the <b>Holiday Inn Express</b> here in town. I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT and want to turn this "job" into a "career." I think I was <i>made</i> for Hospitality! </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Maybe it's the Texan in me.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Jason finally got a good job, but it is out of town. Almost the moment he left for Houston, he decided he was still in love with me. Then he got transferred to rural Kentucky, installing fiber-optics. Jesus, what a bombshell. We still have the same stormy relationship, but I took him back, because things were supposed to be different this time. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I had to play out the feelings I cannot deny I still have for him. It wouldn't have been fair to either of us, or anyone we might get involved with in the future, to leave this "undone."</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >He is here this weekend for <b>Thanksgiving</b>, and somehow I feel like nothing has changed at all. I just don't feel <i>special</i> like a girlfriend should with their boyfriend. Maybe our past is insurmountable, I cannot tell. But suddenly now that I'm not interested in a boyfriend but in a <i>career</i>, my ex confesses his love for me and I've also got two other guys wanting to date me seriously. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Good God!</span></span></span></span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" > I can't handle one, much less two or three! Will write more about this later. I'm really conflicted over it all, heh. I'm always conflicted over something.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >But you knew that.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" >This year I am thankful for:</span></span></span></span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" > my job, <i style="font-weight: bold; ">Burn Notice </i>and<b> </b><i><b>Law and Order: Special Victims Unit</b></i> Marathons during the week, and the<b> <i>E! network</i></b> on weekends. The <b>Aggies</b> beating the<b> Longhorns</b> yesterday, my brother <b><i>Sam</i></b>'s and my epic night in Dallas, <b><i> Momma</i></b> and <i><b>Daddy,</b></i> and my best friends, <i><b>Danielle</b></i> and <b><i>Jason.</i></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><div><br /></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-32100298594351667742010-05-05T08:46:00.000-07:002010-05-05T09:21:13.440-07:00Wildflower Landscape<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4i9UyLQGhtSYWP-ocGVADq1BUGAPY5aay4eZ1IoK31yZS10qah5dhu1Xws2EnzlsBLzoWX9tqW2SwFpA1C5lTtTgSxSEu6bq9WaHDQrb63IbCdRUxA_CkqTbPK2oVuMNNXmZH/s1600/wildflower+landscape.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4i9UyLQGhtSYWP-ocGVADq1BUGAPY5aay4eZ1IoK31yZS10qah5dhu1Xws2EnzlsBLzoWX9tqW2SwFpA1C5lTtTgSxSEu6bq9WaHDQrb63IbCdRUxA_CkqTbPK2oVuMNNXmZH/s320/wildflower+landscape.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467813080583978418" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I finally got the courage up to dabble in the fine arts again...this is one of my first real paintings EVER, and I am really quite proud of it. It captures my favorite time of the year in Texas...springtime. Everything is alive and in living colour. Wildflowers cover country pasture-land and grow alongside highways, brightening mundane drives and reminding all of us that God is very much alive and well and at work in <span style="font-weight: bold;">Life</span>.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">picture taken with camera phone</span><br /></span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-69550524488222663492010-04-01T06:47:00.000-07:002010-05-05T09:20:33.703-07:00American Saturday Night<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoxPBwPs4SeQILmBysIHT3f-CYlEwBH-Rf5oGbAwiW4-4aIrhTbzTwhOQswuLni9iZ1lZpCsWnNmrDKJI-3V9lUoG8TGII08LWHprE-9QJ4Hh1PG3wokOPbCdhg6HwhE7nKXEz/s1600/be1ada632d3bcf482ee8d2807263-grande.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoxPBwPs4SeQILmBysIHT3f-CYlEwBH-Rf5oGbAwiW4-4aIrhTbzTwhOQswuLni9iZ1lZpCsWnNmrDKJI-3V9lUoG8TGII08LWHprE-9QJ4Hh1PG3wokOPbCdhg6HwhE7nKXEz/s320/be1ada632d3bcf482ee8d2807263-grande.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455178918870740786" border="0" /></a> <span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >So <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Brad Paisley</span> was<span style="font-style: italic;"> awesome.</span> I hadn't seen a country concert in years (much less a rodeo) and Mr. Paisley fuckin' rocked it out. He was SO hot, as he played a guitar solo I grabbed Jason's leg and squealed "I'm so horny right now!"<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Awesome.</span></span><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6rZNQeIHsg8VqvMN-2B4CSwgEUyALEj7mxmG8xySu-EMKNWlca3CgkW7O8Tv7zgVumP58orOIQr_56LlRz4AvtrZC8LGEoE2MTfVIjdIogibFZtlzw5WKRxcHKA8RMdrllmH/s1600/bronc-busting.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6rZNQeIHsg8VqvMN-2B4CSwgEUyALEj7mxmG8xySu-EMKNWlca3CgkW7O8Tv7zgVumP58orOIQr_56LlRz4AvtrZC8LGEoE2MTfVIjdIogibFZtlzw5WKRxcHKA8RMdrllmH/s320/bronc-busting.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455179222561575314" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" ><br />I've just been sorta lying around being lazy and depressed due to my lack of employment</span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >...I've been living in a great state of boredom.<br /><br />Surprisingly, another great State, <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">of Texas</span>, has jumped in to help (which would be the first time for me, usually its the state of Texas holding me in prison or rehab, but what the hey--water under the bridge, right?)<br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >My friend Rhonda has developed a nasty coke habit. So I can't hang out with her really, it's too much temptation. I feel like I'm losing a sister-friend, but I don't know what else to do, ya know? When we met, she was so against hard drugs. Now her husband thinks she's engaging in ...immoral things to get it. I have never been so disappointed. I miss my <span style="font-weight: bold;">FRIEND</span>.<br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" ><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Jason</span> and I are really happy right now. I'm going through my long bipolar cycle--12 months of normal, 4-6 months of crazy. I'm in the "crazy" 4-6 months right now. So I have my good days and my bad days. The medication really helps.<br /><br />My old friend <span style="font-weight: bold;">Courtney</span> is back in my life. We dated brothers in High School. She's working at a local deli and bakery called <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Lunch Box</span> and she's pretty sure she can get me on there because a girl walked out on her shift the other day and I don't know of anyone who could get away with that and NOT get fired, heh. Courtney's been talking me up and she thinks it's gonna happen. I sure hope so, because even though I got approved for unemployment (which is SUCH a big help) I've gained like 15 lbs. from sitting on my ass all day instead of moving around at work.<br /><br />I have GOT to get in shape! </span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">Danielle's Fabulous Downtown Dallas Wedding</span> is sneaking up quickly on me!</span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" > Not only am I <span style="font-style: italic;">maid of honor</span> in but my <span style="font-weight: bold;">TEN YEAR HIGH SCHOOL REUNION</span> is coming up in the fall. I've got to plan the Bridal Shower AND the Bachelorette Party. Never been in a wedding before--this is new territory--and I'm kinda at a loss.<br /><br />Good God.<br /><br />As for the reunion I am super excited about it really, I haven't kept good touch with many high school friends due to several precarious years in my past. It will be <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">SO good</span> to see them all...<br />The only thing is most of them have a career or are married and have not just one but sometimes <span style="font-style: italic;">two</span> kids! Which is a bummer for me, not only do I work high school type jobs, but I don't have much to be proud of at all. I felt like if I had some darling little children, it would be completely different. My life would have so much more purpose and I would feel somehow justified in my station in life.<br />And the Fact is, most of the friends of mine that have had children are <span style="font-weight: bold;">still as thin</span> as they were in high school! What the fuck is that?! I have always battled my weight and I've just got to get in shape before the wedding and reunion.<br /><br />I am seriously thinking about hiring my Elementary school-present best friend <span style="font-weight: bold;">Kristin</span>'s husband because he's a personal trainer...<br />That would be the shit.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I printed out my entire blog to start the editing process for a possible book...working title: </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >BLUSH REALITY: <span style="font-style: italic;">Confessions of a Serial Blogger. </span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I've got 1600 pages of material. Yeah. Wish me luck, I'm gonna need it. This could be my big break, you never can tell</span></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-size:85%;">!<br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >Loves!</span></span><br /></span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-13631908396595140602010-03-11T05:58:00.000-08:002010-03-11T06:37:18.592-08:00Twenty-Eight is Great!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisj1nAD9MZqufkKnkd5a2ZLxmlVlPHM-Rkk5KsOw_THXHUpsfWFqLI_8fOyULS1YzmyoCyaGNsB87YAoj_j8Z8jjQ_CqjjDRU-UqtAsBDzFYUty9LeXsWokDrB2DjgHXS-_cEK/s1600-h/birthday_cat.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 283px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisj1nAD9MZqufkKnkd5a2ZLxmlVlPHM-Rkk5KsOw_THXHUpsfWFqLI_8fOyULS1YzmyoCyaGNsB87YAoj_j8Z8jjQ_CqjjDRU-UqtAsBDzFYUty9LeXsWokDrB2DjgHXS-_cEK/s320/birthday_cat.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447378317011880658" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >Today is my <span style="font-style: italic;">28th birthday.</span> Jason and I are celebrating by driving to Houston today to go to the famed <span style="font-weight: bold;">Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo</span> to see<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> Brad Paisley</span> perform tonight.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Squeal! </span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-2969234190321205392010-03-08T19:39:00.000-08:002010-03-08T20:15:59.214-08:00Ambition with a side of Trepidation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSdfUwlrlrvuEsKFaWEIYs1vFGTHNcoaT48dEogvxiY7vDdlx0bXX5Taf8DqeNaMcyGkQq2JpQdforydbfirQPUCXbIB7u0bqCLpaaSE1Jh46H-9BuKDXFixvFWUKJM7-5-ows/s1600-h/ambition-wallpaper.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSdfUwlrlrvuEsKFaWEIYs1vFGTHNcoaT48dEogvxiY7vDdlx0bXX5Taf8DqeNaMcyGkQq2JpQdforydbfirQPUCXbIB7u0bqCLpaaSE1Jh46H-9BuKDXFixvFWUKJM7-5-ows/s320/ambition-wallpaper.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446475610186618994" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />SO:</span></span><br /><br />After<span style="font-style: italic;"> much</span> thought....<br />I might just give the old blog format a serious overhaul.<br /><br />If I made <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Blush Reality</span> into a book, would <span style="font-style: italic;">you</span> read it??<br />Would <span style="font-style: italic;">anyone</span>?<br />That my friends, is a hell of a question.<br /><br />I think I'll start on editing this week...<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Blush Reality: Confessions of a Serial Blogger."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" >Feedback, PLEASE!</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-28400996231393056372010-03-07T13:12:00.000-08:002010-03-08T19:53:05.335-08:00Hope for the Best, Plan for the Worst, and Maybe End up Somewhere in the Middle...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxNvABas-yGaOE3LLeKNmsCUEhXmrVJQal63C3etf1kgufmuYpnrcrA32D2uSu_tzN-WF9DRv31PuSNW9i1dO5685SJoYYAO9U3Fz0FwdzELc_wNTad1AxySCkej0koPRP1c_A/s1600-h/falling-leaves.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 257px; height: 198px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxNvABas-yGaOE3LLeKNmsCUEhXmrVJQal63C3etf1kgufmuYpnrcrA32D2uSu_tzN-WF9DRv31PuSNW9i1dO5685SJoYYAO9U3Fz0FwdzELc_wNTad1AxySCkej0koPRP1c_A/s320/falling-leaves.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446007355630075506" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Hey peeps, my laptop has been broken, therefore posts have been scarce and will be till I get a new hard drive.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Everything is going well with me...haha.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />I got laid off,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">but I'm getting unemployment.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I live with my parents,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">and Jason lives here too now.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I get my heath care from the government,</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />so my medication is down to $30 from $600.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />Jason and I are happier than ever,</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />except he works 7pm-7am graveyard shifts so I barely see him.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He told me he wants to start a family with me,</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />but he has to be financially stable first.<br />From here it seems like merely a dream,<br />Unfortunately, I'm running low on dreams lately.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I painted my nails in black glitter today.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >I thought about college,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >then</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >I thought about art.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >I thought about love,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >then</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >I thought about money.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br />I thought about hate,</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br />then</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >I thought about nonsense.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br />I thought about you,</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br />then</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >I thought about me.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >I thought about the world,</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br />And how it goes round.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br />I thought about the Indians,<br /></span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Dead in their mounds.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >I thought about it all</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >,<br />There's so much to see.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br />If it so happens that I fall,</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br />Watch me fall on my feet.</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-80346231772801067432010-01-02T00:53:00.000-08:002010-01-03T07:20:48.266-08:00Beans and Cornbread (and a long nap)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhm2tUrruSgkEYc9nZkL6xnoBj17GDHy-MPSAgFNW_zQxr3wvKGw3TA9whXDowLnvr2Ds0cx3A20bsxP3UWXFbTOP6560M-KONHNkm6MOeF_iqKDu8NblZl0k7SOKIeFdWySAc/s1600-h/new+years.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422075379490831826" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 320px; height: 240px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhm2tUrruSgkEYc9nZkL6xnoBj17GDHy-MPSAgFNW_zQxr3wvKGw3TA9whXDowLnvr2Ds0cx3A20bsxP3UWXFbTOP6560M-KONHNkm6MOeF_iqKDu8NblZl0k7SOKIeFdWySAc/s320/new+years.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >It's funny how traditions get started. My family isn't big on traditions, but my alma mater is. The way Texas Aggie traditions usually get started is when someone comes up with a totally brilliant (at the time) idea or when something funny happened(s). </span><br /><div><div><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >If you live in Texas or The South in general, you most likely spend your <span style="font-style: italic;">New Year's Eve</span> involved in much drinking, much dancing, and general debauchery. </span></div><div><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >A long-time<span style="font-style: italic;"> American</span> New Year's tradition is to kiss on midnight on New Year's Eve.</span></div><div><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >An excuse for men to make out with chicks.</span></div><div><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >An excuse for lonely women to feel special.</span></div><div><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >BRILLIANT IDEA (at least at the time...)<span style="font-style: italic;"> *wink*</span><br /></span></div><div><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >If you live in Texas or The South in general, you most likely spend your <span style="font-style: italic;">New Year's Day</span> involved in watching football, and traditionally eating beans (black eyed peas, specifically) with cornbread, and boiled cabbage. For health, wealth, and good fortune. </span></div><div><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >Today I figured out the Real reason. Good fortune my ass!</span></div><div><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >It's the BEST hangover food EVER. AND you get a nap afterwards! Starch attack!<br /></span></div><div><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >BRILLIANT idea! </span></div><div><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >Birth of a tradition.</span></div><div><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" ></span></div><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >...<br /></span><div><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >New tradition proposal: Playing Wii Sports. </span></div><div><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >Brilliant idea!</span></div><div><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >Birth of a tradition? </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-23953712213933710792009-12-18T12:21:00.000-08:002009-12-20T18:21:46.378-08:00Can You Meet Me Halfway?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH6VAto8VQjospL4TdQSpBwvx8w-LmEB4GOrg6upJD2bShgj69a4pakwWJvZtbics5KNZFDuWzSSwC2bEf33jdFJiCWbmcLpuhklUtml1r_Op7OS99g1u0LsRZNXeuW_dwugXf/s1600-h/If_You_Meet_Me_Halfway_by_Nichproductions.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH6VAto8VQjospL4TdQSpBwvx8w-LmEB4GOrg6upJD2bShgj69a4pakwWJvZtbics5KNZFDuWzSSwC2bEf33jdFJiCWbmcLpuhklUtml1r_Op7OS99g1u0LsRZNXeuW_dwugXf/s320/If_You_Meet_Me_Halfway_by_Nichproductions.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416675530291861762" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What's with the fighting lately?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This time it was with Jason.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It breaks my heart every time...</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm too needy,</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He's too remote.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Truth is after every fight I feel we are closer than ever.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I don't know if we'll be taking that next step any time soon though.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Relationships can be hard work. But should they be?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When it's bad it's so bad...</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But when it's good,</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It's SO GOOD.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Can you meet me halfway? Right at the borderline?</span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">That's where I'm gonna wait...for you.</span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I'll be lookin' out...night and day...</span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Took my heart to the limit, and this is where I'll stay.</span></i></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-51636537874166017352009-12-06T07:40:00.000-08:002010-01-03T06:59:47.431-08:00Sweet And Sour<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJTlOtZ-6H8WcnNqUAwHcAegymKGjCfkL1rPT-Mk6wzpG0qszaJ3zYqgnAeltCEZU9VrbP07ToTKSle64qo08xCJZjLH_YZ3_w1srOnJ0kOuBZFWROhs2EKKwDt8cEeQBaOq_9/s1600-h/print-bipolar-main_Full.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJTlOtZ-6H8WcnNqUAwHcAegymKGjCfkL1rPT-Mk6wzpG0qszaJ3zYqgnAeltCEZU9VrbP07ToTKSle64qo08xCJZjLH_YZ3_w1srOnJ0kOuBZFWROhs2EKKwDt8cEeQBaOq_9/s320/print-bipolar-main_Full.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412156701532080706" border="0" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style=";font-family:'trebuchet ms';font-size:85%;" ><span class="Apple-style-span"><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I am trying to work out a lease agreement with my Ex over the truck that we once shared. After saying one thing for months then changing his mind when I did not want him back, he changed his mind and is threatening to take my vehicle and means to work right out from underneath me. I've put thousands of dollars into this truck at this point. The truth is that if he cared so much about that truck he wouldn't have started doing drugs again immediately after he signed the loan. Now he's tripping over paperwork. And then the name calling began. Regardless of the details of the fight, the phrases child molester(?) and crack whore should never come up during a conversation about a lease agreement.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Yeah.</span></div></span></span><div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span">He called me a child molester and a crack whore.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span">It was fucked. </span></span></div><div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span">On so many levels.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Destruction. </span></span></div><div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span">That's all I could think about. I was ready to join a metal band. </span></span></div><div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I wanted to physically hurt him. Destroy him.<br />It took a whole xanax to calm me down. </span></span></div><div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Vengeance.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Destruction.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Apparently I did not have the right words for this situation yesterday because pretty much everyone but my own mother thought I overreacted. Jason was wonderful. However childish he thought it was, he still called Austin and told him to shut up and leave me alone. </span></span></div><div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span">That meant a lot to me.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span">So anyway, I've decided to let Kelly Clarkson speak on my behalf:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=";font-family:'trebuchet ms';font-size:85%;" ><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size:78%;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span">Sour First...</span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 15px;font-size:78%;" ><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span">So what’s your evil attitude<br />When you got me spending my time pleasing you<br />Why must you keep me underground<br />Tell me tell me, why you wanna bring me down?<br />Is it too much to give a damn<br />When I GAVE you one hundred and ten<br />Don’t blink cause I won’t be around<br />Tell me tell me, why you wanna bring me down?</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:78%;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:78%;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span">...Then Sweet.</span></span></b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:78%;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span">Remember all the things we wanted<br />Now all our memories, they're haunted<br />We were always meant to say goodbye<br />Even with our fists held high<br />It never would've worked out right<br />We were never meant for do or die<br /><br />I didn't want us to burn out<br />I didn't come here to hurt you<br />Now I can't stop<br /><br />I want you to know that it doesn't matter<br />Where we take this road<br />Someone's gotta go<br />And I want you to know<br />You couldn't have loved me better<br />But I want you to move on<br />So I'm already gone<br /><br />Looking at you makes it harder<br />But I know that you'll find another<br />That doesn't always make you want to cry<br />Started with a perfect kiss<br />Then we could feel the poison set in<br />Perfect couldn't keep this love alive<br />You know that I love you so<br />I love you enough to let you go<br /><br />I want you to know that it doesn't matter<br />Where we take this road<br />Someone's gotta go<br />And I want you to know<br />You couldn't have loved me better<br />But I want you to move on<br />So I'm already gone<br /><br />I'm already gone, already gone<br />You can't make it feel right<br />When you know that it's wrong<br />I'm already gone, already gone<br />There's no moving on<br />So I'm already gone<br /><br />Remember all the things we wanted<br />Now all our memories, they're haunted<br />We were always meant to say goodbye<br /><br />I want you to know that it doesn't matter<br />Where we take this road<br />Someone's gotta go<br />And I want you to know<br />You couldn't have loved me better<br />But I want you to move on<br />So I'm already gone<br /><br />I'm already gone, already gone<br />You can't make it feel right<br />When you know that it's wrong<br />I'm already gone, already gone<br />There's no moving on<br />So I'm already gone</span></span></i></span></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-42199685408061365852009-11-30T21:55:00.001-08:002009-12-02T20:30:02.156-08:00I'm Falling in Love all Over Again<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhueoAsmAFXEJC60HlSp0itwy7l2gMDsVJ-ak0KXY-BuRU7qKR0mdBRCQv5MTYNqQbIlfdhB-tq20Qnnl-5uDzIF89jJmEBIitm8FdVfgjhg6rgi_5KQjDKipT75FomDfYiD3A0/s1600/220279254_17c20cbec5.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 301px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhueoAsmAFXEJC60HlSp0itwy7l2gMDsVJ-ak0KXY-BuRU7qKR0mdBRCQv5MTYNqQbIlfdhB-tq20Qnnl-5uDzIF89jJmEBIitm8FdVfgjhg6rgi_5KQjDKipT75FomDfYiD3A0/s320/220279254_17c20cbec5.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410146264890122386" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It's the little things here and there...</span></div></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Lately I'm seeing them everywhere.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am so proud of him...</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He gets sexier every day.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Today he told me he'd be with me for the rest of his natural life.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But not out right, he's not that kind of guy.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was a "by the way" situation, making it that much more charming...</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It is just what I've been desperate to hear.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We talk about our future.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We've discussed our children's names.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I got him to look at wedding dresses tonight,</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And that's when I knew he loved me and would never leave me.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He may even take my surname one day!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As he has no relationship with his father.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This caught me off guard in the most flattering way;</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And it wasn't long till I was scribbling like a school girl...</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jason Dickerson Hughes</span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Molly Kathryn Hughes</span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">James Andrew Hughes</span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Rachel Olivia Hughes</span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">...is that embarrassing for a grown woman to doodle in private...? </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I feel like a child in so many ways. Finally in the good ways.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm in a healthy relationship for the first time,</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We are kindred spirits, he said so.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My body has never fit so beautifully with any man...ever.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am in love, in love with a man I never knew existed.</span></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-48651376460440458472009-11-22T00:53:00.000-08:002009-11-22T01:52:40.991-08:00Es La Verdad (A Greater Understanding)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ILivhcdETy5B1Tvg2ABZRtD7YIKZsbp3qbYLlI7xVsCco7ktMLiOCQiXXbasWVWhPZhosa-f6ZgejNo2XrYW7oefnjsBInSzyD8A2ShW8DeDAD8U0DNLWlcC_X3JdTIDkGaS/s1600/alfred-gockel-romance-in-red-ii.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 319px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406853509838395474" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ILivhcdETy5B1Tvg2ABZRtD7YIKZsbp3qbYLlI7xVsCco7ktMLiOCQiXXbasWVWhPZhosa-f6ZgejNo2XrYW7oefnjsBInSzyD8A2ShW8DeDAD8U0DNLWlcC_X3JdTIDkGaS/s320/alfred-gockel-romance-in-red-ii.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>The Pisces Man</strong>...<em>Jason.</em></span><br /></span><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">You may have observed that Pisces is a strongly feminine sign. Feminine, that is, in terms of its feeling bias, its imagination, its softness, its compassion. Many Pisces men are extremely masculine, and perfectly capable of what Jung calls, 'Knowing what you want and doing what you have to do to get it'. But all in all, the combination of being a man and being a Pisces is a slightly uneasy one. Largely, once again, because of collective pressures and social expectations.<br /><br />There are a great many turntypes among Pisces men. They compensate in a thousand ways for being Pisceans. Some of them run in terror from the depths of their underwater visions, into an extreme and brittle kind of rationality which calls for statistics, definitions and proofs. They are the dogmatic material scientists, attempting to stamp out in others what they fear in themselves. They have no tolerance for what they call 'emotionality', and cannot abide moodiness in others because their own threatens to overwhelm them.<br /><br />But if a Pisces man has the courage to face his own vulnerability, and to see that it can live happily side by side with his manhood, then you have a rare creature. And he's able to maintain his manhood without disappearing underwater into the realm of escape, that is. This is the hero of so many books and films, the antihero, the gentle fighter, the sensitive lover. It's perhaps closer to our modern myth of man than any other, since it's a peculiar marriage of male and female. The Pisces man who has accomplished this has a rare charisma, a drama about him that makes him endlessly fascinating both to men and women alike.<br /><br />Sadly, many more Pisces men hit the extremes. We've mentioned the rationalist, the Pisces who hates being a Pisces and wants desperately to protect his own sensitivity. The opposite kind is also common enough. He's the fellow who loves strong women, especially women who can support him financially; who can take care of him while he's writing the eternal half-finished novel, while he's contemplating the job he'll never take. He's the passive victim, abused and betrayed by a cold, brutal wife, looking for pity and sympathy and playing for all its worth to the maternal instinct of some poor foolish woman who thinks all his romanticism is true tenderness and feeling. These are pathetic Pisceans and their wives and lovers are frustrated women who have to be men most of the time and chafe violently against it. Many Piscean men of this type gravitate toward the powerful signs in women: Leo, Aries, Scorpio, Capricorn. They have no strength of their own, and seek it in a partnership.<br /><br />As you might guess, Pisces tends to run to extremes. It's rare that you get a neutral Pisces. It's generally one extreme or the other.<br /><br />The Pisces man generally needs to feel 'understood' more than anything else. This isn't so much a sign of physical passion as it is a sensuous sign, a sybaritic sign. Dragging the woman off by the hair to the cave isn't generally Pisces' style. Allowing himself to strike up a warm, sympathetic conversation and then allowing himself to be seduced by good wine, soft music, satin sheets and erotic underwear is much more his style. Pisces is as happy being passive as a lover as he is being, literally or figuratively, the one on top. It's his particular brand of masculinity. Often he will make himself the buffoon, the clown, the victim, for he works a lot from sympathy and empathy. Women love to protect him. He can protect himself perfectly well. But it isn't always in his interests to let you know that.<br /><br />Trust him and you'll bring the best out of him. See only the shadowy side of him and he'll have a devil of a time trusting himself. He never trusts himself anyway; he's brutally realistic, beneath all those visions. He needs the trust and loyalty of another person to bring out his own - the realistic trust, that is. Accuse him of something, and he'll happily go out and do it, just to please. His way of fighting is not to fight; it's to bend so far backwards that you fall on your face. Impotence is also his way of fighting. In this, you'll see the feminine side of the sign in strong colours. Passive resistance is a technique dear to the Piscean heart.<br /><br />You might think he can easily be dominated. Think again. In fact his world doesn't include dominant or submissive. He'll play pliant on the surface because it's easier, because it's not that often important enough to draw blood. Beneath that pliant surface, it isn't that he needs to control; he just wants to be left alone. Try to dominate, and you'll discover you're empty-handed. He's simply drifted away, without a fuss.<br /><br />If you are the type who likes to have all your decisions made for you, don't choose a Pisces. On the other hand, if you want someone to henpeck, pass on this one too. Now you see him, now you don't. No promise or marriage contract means anything to him if the fundamental values of the relationship have been abused. And he'll see through all the games pretty quickly. He just won't be there the next morning. No note, no phone call. Just gone. Like the fish.<br /><br />But if you want a relationship which is more nearly like the ideal vision of what the so-called 'liberated' woman seeks (and these are rare animals as well), you will find that Pisces is not one of your diehard male chauvinists. Being strongly emotional himself, he usually has immense empathy for women. He generally gets on with them better than men. And with his profound understanding of human nature, you're not likely either to be the housekeeper or the sex object. You get to be a person. And that's worth quite a lot.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong>The Pisces Woman</strong>...<em>Myself.</em></span><br /></span><br />Many paeans have been written to the Pisces woman, for her mystery, her gentleness, her compassion, her elusive charm, her pregnant silences. And she may be, indeed, the archetypal feminine. The lovely, gracious princess of the fairy-tale castle, waiting for the suitor to rescue her and cherish and protect her, is modeled on Pisces. The Pisces woman has a unique ability to make a man feel terribly masculine, because she seems so often to need protecting, cherishing, and tenderness. Because she has such a changeable range and depth of feeling, she often gives the impression of being slightly unformed. It brings out the Pygmalion tendencies in any would-be artisans. Many men think they can shape her into what they choose. In part, it's true. The qualities of devotion and gentleness and softness are in abundance in many Piscean women. But blank slate she's not.<br /><br />Like the Pisces man, she's unfathomable, and possesses a soul which no one can ultimately reach. Although eager to please and rarely argumentative, she also has the gift of defence through submergence. Now you see her, now you don't. She may physically disappear, usually with a lover; but more likely she'll be physically present and simply psychologically disappear, gone to the underwater realms or to someone else in fantasy. It's a very peculiar feeling when she's gone. No one home.<br /><br />Romanticism runs very high in the Pisces woman. She expects, and needs the poetry and tenderness and style that any fairy-tale princess merits. Starve her of these and you will drive her either to another lover or into herself, where she may transform into the martyr. Provide them, and your princess becomes a queen. Simple. Yet astonishingly difficult for many men, since Pisces, as a watery sign, seems to attract airy types who believe they can impress her with their sparkling intellects and long for the exhibitions of feeling she herself provides without realizing they must give in exchange.<br /><br />And make no mistake, the Pisces woman, if she is disappointed, will not hesitate to deceive. Remember Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton? Being good to her isn't enough. You must enter her dreams with her. Ignore them, patronize them, and you do so at your own risk. There is a strong theatrical element in the Pisces woman. She has a unique gift for getting herself into the most dreadful dilemmas and crisis which no one could possibly sort out, and then going about among her friends asking for advice which is never taken since her need to suffer and sacrifice is fed by the dilemma. A perplexing creature.<br /><br />But meet her in later life, and all the compassion and wisdom which come from having seen the seamy side of just about everything yield a glow and a richness which is far more meaningful than the unshaped marble which Pygmalion sees in her late teens and early twenties. In this, the last of the signs, the Wise Woman emerges - with all the instinctual wisdom of her sex and all the human insights of her sign. Often she is almost mediumistic, preferring to shelter herself from life because this gift is so dubious and so difficult to bear. There is also more than a touch of the witch in Pisces; whether it is white or black depends on whether she has been badly bruised, and how badly. A Pisces woman gone wrong is a vampire, playing on the fantasy life of others, and draining their strength. Never underestimate her, because she may be inarticulate or reluctant to explain herself. Neptune is an enigmatic god; to love him is to love the ocean, for all its moods and changes, its anger and its peacefulness, its destruction and its beauty.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><em>Yes, we're back together.</em> </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Thinking about moving in together next year... !</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-89671793438857795552009-10-23T13:16:00.000-07:002009-10-23T15:10:07.414-07:00Aromatherapy Stress Relief in Tranquil Mint<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUyeYFFgdbKRYhdV9kMZVZ9MF9vIMZXZR6EG5zwe8aLGJ_eWoJc4nGHe_L9otBfGecsggzFyHokctUXiOibZ6RkBOynx5NpKogKnDJnNOyfUM2vybkd4Mg4rSLQAwy1r0OrNwC/s1600-h/10899.gif"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 294px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395898537764404706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUyeYFFgdbKRYhdV9kMZVZ9MF9vIMZXZR6EG5zwe8aLGJ_eWoJc4nGHe_L9otBfGecsggzFyHokctUXiOibZ6RkBOynx5NpKogKnDJnNOyfUM2vybkd4Mg4rSLQAwy1r0OrNwC/s320/10899.gif" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I got the job at <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Bath & Body Works</span>! HUGE promotion for me! Customer Sales Lead. It's a big job, and I get stressed out easily. My biggest character flaw is that when something doesn't come naturally to me, I tend to want to quit or cry. Yeah. Not something I'm proud of at all. But I AM proud of this job.</span> </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Austin</span> is out of jail now, living in a court-ordered halfway house in Temple, Texas. I think it's shitty that his mom (who I used to be extremely close to) has declared that she wants me to have no contact with Austin, which is a kick in the teeth after having been there for BOTH of them for so long now. I am NOT the bad guy. </span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;">Though it has felt good with him around again. His voice feels like home. I hope to get to know who he is now. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">When I was relatively unemployed, I took on a babysitting job for a guy friend of mine with a crazy baby mama. When I say crazy, I mean she's got 2 aggravated assault charges against her and is on probation. The baby, Ember, is only 6 months old, and we were having a blast. When it came time to put the Ember down to nap, I'm lie on the bed to watch her, dozing myself. I heard something loud and wondered what it was. It didn't take long to find out.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Suddenly the baby's mom is in the room and I stand up and say "you're not supposed to be here!" So she grabs my breast and twists it and throws me to the ground and grabs Ember and takes off. I get up and chase after her and by this point there's nothing I can do, she's already in the getaway car, driven by an ex-boyfriend. I'm <em>trippin</em>. The <em>only</em> thing worse than LOSING the baby, as a babysitter, is if the baby <em>dies</em>. So I call the dad, and the grandma, and of course, the cops. I file an assault charge, which was later dropped by the county, although William's lawyer filed a motion against the mother for interfering with the custodial rights of a child. The custody hearing was yesterday.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I was subpeonaed by BOTH parties to testify. Got sworn in and everything. I was so nervous! I'd never been to court save to plead guilty and say "yes sir" and "no sir" when instructed. These lawyers wanted to cross-examine me, Law & Order style! LUCKILY, I never had to take the stand because the mom was in so badly they just made a deal where William has full custody and she only gets to see Ember like 8 hours a week under state supervision. So basically, we won. But Here's the kicker.This bitch alleged that I was NAKED with the child. WTF. So I'm temporarily not allowed around the baby. Temporary meaning a couple months. The lawyer said it really didn't mean much. But I gave that bitch the EVILEST eye on the way out of court. Tell me that's</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> not fucked.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />The whole situation was traumatizing. </span><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><br /><br />Danielle</span> is getting married next October! I'm the maid of honor. So I've been busy checking out wedding ideas and fun, girly stuff like that. The wedding is in Dallas at a magnificent hotel. The "theme" is Vintage Southern. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I can't wait! Never been a bridesmaid. Maybe I'll catch the bouquet!</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Jason</span> and I have been getting closer, but he had made it terribly clear to me that he wanted me to move on. Therefore I had. Austin's back, and I remember why I loved him. I ran into <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Jeremy</span>, an old high school friend at a Texas Aggie football game a couple weeks ago. My dad mortified me by making it OBVIOUS that I was single. Well, we have a wedding shower we're both invited to tomorrow, so it's a date. I have a date! Afterparty at his house. It's only AFTER all this, that Jason owns up to me that he's still in love with me. Men! What's a girl to do?</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-34511098379713159992009-09-23T13:19:00.000-07:002009-09-24T01:48:27.724-07:00Tears of Pain, Catharsis, and Happy Surprise<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyJ47ct03RN6BXVURbvOhhAzOPkijsULMzEzjDWyhOqSgToAC_zeIMDtCod7HWTIZsD3OetRIrfhlw99QFKvyv2nFIpa5VvyDLaM1J8XD2Rr-SiKIQHMUCIK_eZd1Oy5tJwCda/s1600-h/chinese%2520democracy%2520art.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 238px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384772011878029314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyJ47ct03RN6BXVURbvOhhAzOPkijsULMzEzjDWyhOqSgToAC_zeIMDtCod7HWTIZsD3OetRIrfhlw99QFKvyv2nFIpa5VvyDLaM1J8XD2Rr-SiKIQHMUCIK_eZd1Oy5tJwCda/s320/chinese%2520democracy%2520art.jpg" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">So. Yesterday was a rough day. I found out one of my good friends, who will remain unnamed, was arrested for selling to an undercover. The penalties in this country for non-violent drug offenders are ridiculous, and it hurts me because I know what he's in for. It's not good. I saw him the night before he turned himself in. When I left I gave him the fist bump...if I would have known what was gonna happen a few hours later I would have hugged his neck. Honestly, I'm surprised at my feelings because I believe in taking responsibility for your actions, I did. But my heart goes out to him because the flood of emotion surrounding my own incarceration has knocked me on my ass. The lonliness. Utter and complete loneliness and isolation from everyone and everything you love. It sucks. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">And of course I internalize that feeling. Lots of shit has gone down this summer. I've found out who my friends ARE and EXACTLY who they aren't. It's hard when you put yourself out there and people don't accept you for <em>who you are</em>. That's a REAL lonely place. And I've found myself there this morning.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I've been sleeping at Jason's because he's needed me. His bitch-ass roomate is moving out and sticking him with tons of bills. She was too chickenshit to tell him herself. He found out from someone at a party. Yeah. He could have won an Academy Award for not crying on the spot. Now he's trippin cause he's afraid he might become "homeless." I love him too much to let that happen. Love like in a regular way. He's one of my best friends. I know that sounds like bullshit, but it's true. I love him like family. I may love him more than that, but I honestly don't know. It's up to him and the way he <em>acts</em>. We've been working through alot of the muck we've found ourselves in. Either way, I've been taking care of him, giving all I've got to keep him going, because I know if he quits now, it's all over.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">And he's got his first show coming up in a few weeks. <strong>And I won't let him fail.</strong></span></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">So this morning we talked. I cried. All the strength I'd mustered up over the last few days/weeks has waned. I've given and given and given and given till I don't know if I've got anything else to give. That's a very lonely place.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">And of course, just as I'm ready to give up, throw in the towel, and crawl in a hole, I get this phone call out of the blue...</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">My manager from Bath & Body Works calls to tell me that they want to promote me to sales lead, which is a permanent, management position! I couldn't believe it. I've got to meet up with her tomorrow for the first of 3 interviews. This is a godsend to me. As soon as I hung up the phone I hit my knees and thanked god. I cried to him. I apologized for counting him out. I <em>begged </em>his forgiveness. I should have never doubted his love. I thanked him <em>again and again</em> for the opportunity to make something out of myself, and this time, I'm gonna do it!</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14054284.post-17349929828993993472009-09-03T00:28:00.000-07:002009-09-03T00:40:46.842-07:00However...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge9LFfn8IVMymUhUs6VN2IHe7Zn1-1_-bCZNRDTtZwUzsZdWi9JYHCmPEXBO66BKxmtWj_F-7iwqauHHBxkJjEKkNLxzOgwnjd9auHsD_kA6iYjl0sPFIhyphenhypheng2ro1vxrN5FmzwI/s1600-h/t-lostlove_jpg.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 201px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377140728057483010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge9LFfn8IVMymUhUs6VN2IHe7Zn1-1_-bCZNRDTtZwUzsZdWi9JYHCmPEXBO66BKxmtWj_F-7iwqauHHBxkJjEKkNLxzOgwnjd9auHsD_kA6iYjl0sPFIhyphenhypheng2ro1vxrN5FmzwI/s320/t-lostlove_jpg.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">...I can't help but wish <strong>He</strong> loved <em>Me</em> like <em>I </em>love <strong>Him</strong>.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"><em>Without Condition.</em> I just don't know any other way to love!</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><li>keepin it real.</li></div>Blushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04359961340829193889noreply@blogger.com1