<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193</id><updated>2012-01-28T18:42:44.919-06:00</updated><category term='good news'/><category term='break up'/><category term='change'/><category term='Memories'/><category term='getting back together'/><category term='school'/><category term='friends'/><title type='text'>Now what?</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-3897241003840535330</id><published>2010-07-13T22:58:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-13T23:56:25.355-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The truth always slips out</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/TD1DHtpK8GI/AAAAAAAAAFA/x7OUKv8ufLE/s1600/Im+in+love.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 319px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/TD1DHtpK8GI/AAAAAAAAAFA/x7OUKv8ufLE/s320/Im+in+love.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493620920252297314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I found out something that made me feel all squishy inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kevin and I have been together almost a year and a half. He ALWAYS rounds up 2 years. It bugs me so much! I can't really say why, but it does. Maybe because I don't want to rush things. I don't remember what we were talking about but Kevin said something about us being together for 2 years. I protested it again. Then he said "I'm proud of us being together and happy for so long. That's why I round up." I was really taken by surprise! I didn't know he felt that way. He didn't say it to "win". It just came out. That's when its the truth. When you just blurt it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was taking him home at the end of our day together, I asked him if he was really proud of us. He said "of course! You're the best girlfriend I ever had. " We've had our ups and downs but in the end we want to get together. He just makes me happy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-3897241003840535330?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/3897241003840535330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/07/truth-always-slips-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/3897241003840535330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/3897241003840535330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/07/truth-always-slips-out.html' title='The truth always slips out'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/TD1DHtpK8GI/AAAAAAAAAFA/x7OUKv8ufLE/s72-c/Im+in+love.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-2928471180985844077</id><published>2010-06-30T10:09:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-30T10:39:13.835-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It took a fight and me pointing out that things were different for him to realize something was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a day of frustrations and some self reflection, we came up with a new battle plan. We identified what the issue was. To quote G.I. Joe "knowing is half the battle". We are still a team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why but I'm having trouble expressing myself today. I can't seem to get my thoughts in order. I don't what I want to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least we are still happy together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-2928471180985844077?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/2928471180985844077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/06/it-took-fight-and-me-pointing-out-that.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/2928471180985844077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/2928471180985844077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/06/it-took-fight-and-me-pointing-out-that.html' title=''/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-9100434338278751637</id><published>2010-06-28T19:51:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T20:35:36.516-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tough times don't last, tough people do.</title><content type='html'>When the going gets tough, the though get going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is full of challenges. What you do to over come them is up to you. You can lay down, and blames others for why your life is hard. OR you can stand up, band together and fight, knowing your partner has your back till the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been having a tough time lately. (its not that horrible. I don't love my job, but I'm trying to make do until I find something else) I'm trying to stand and fight. I'm looking to my partner for support. I'm starting to feel like I'm fighting alone. I try to talk to him but he doesn't want to talk about things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What hurts is I'm always in the trenches with him. If I have to fight alone, fine. What I don't want to do is be fooled into thinking I can count on someone when I can't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-9100434338278751637?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/9100434338278751637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/06/tough-times-dont-last-tough-people-do.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/9100434338278751637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/9100434338278751637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/06/tough-times-dont-last-tough-people-do.html' title='Tough times don&apos;t last, tough people do.'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-6924663967164034917</id><published>2010-04-11T10:22:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-11T11:12:59.332-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The worst thing you can do for love is deny it; so when you find that special someone, don't let anyone or anything to get in your way.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S8H0h4keXnI/AAAAAAAAAE4/TQgScu-iLuo/s1600/love+cloud.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 305px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S8H0h4keXnI/AAAAAAAAAE4/TQgScu-iLuo/s320/love+cloud.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458913086307982962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I don't remember the exact date we decided to get back together. It was a long time ago, but just happened at the same time. Things have been WONDERFUL! The way they should be. The way they were. The way we wanted it to be. The way we knew they could be. We knew it was there, that's why it was so hard for us to let go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the little things I wanted from him, he's doing. Its awesome! He gives me a warm squishy feeling inside. I love it. He tells me he loves me a lot (and first, not just in response), he holds doors open for me everytime. He is more affection it. He lets me know he's thinking about me and how much I mean to him. I am SOOOO HAPPY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the time we were apart I was sooooo miserable. I cried almost every day. I wasn't sleeping, I wasn't eating, I lost my sunshine. In the time we were apart, he hung out with his friends, met a few girls, spend some time alone. In the time we were apart we discovered how much we mean to each other. I pretended he didn't mean that much to me. He was cool to hang out with but I didn't like him that much (I was wrong). He realized that everything he's looking for in a woman was right in front of him the whole time. He realized he could lose me if he didn't act fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ghosts of our pasts were haunting us. They created some of our actions, some of our fears, and definitely controlled our reactions. We were possessed by our demons. The time apart let us face them and exercise them.  It took lots of self-realization on both parts to see what went wrong and how we can fix it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, we still have some work to do. We remember the ghosts and the trouble the caused but we've got our proton packs and zap them when they get out of hand!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE YOU KEVIN!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-6924663967164034917?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/6924663967164034917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/04/worst-thing-you-can-do-for-love-is-deny.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/6924663967164034917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/6924663967164034917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/04/worst-thing-you-can-do-for-love-is-deny.html' title='The worst thing you can do for love is deny it; so when you find that special someone, don&apos;t let anyone or anything to get in your way.'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S8H0h4keXnI/AAAAAAAAAE4/TQgScu-iLuo/s72-c/love+cloud.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-4565099457625035444</id><published>2010-04-05T09:51:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T10:03:01.776-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent. - Victor Hugo</title><content type='html'>Over the weekend, Kevin told me this song says how he feels about me =D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Beautiful girls all over the world, I could be chasing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But my time would be wasted, they got nothing on you, baby&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nothing on you, baby&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;They might say hi, and I might say hey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But you shouldn't worry, about what they say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;'Cause they got nothing on you, baby (Yeah)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nothing on you, baby (N-n-n-nothing on you baby, n-nothing on you)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I know you feel where I'm coming from&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Regardless of the things in my past that I've done&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Most of it really was for the hell of the fun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;On a carousel, so around I spun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;With no direction, just tryna get some&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tryna chase skirts, living in the summer sun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And so I lost more than I had ever won&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And honestly, I ended up with none&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It's so much nonsense, it's on my conscience&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm thinking "maybe I should get it out"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And I don't wanna sound redundant&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But I was wondering, if there was something that you wanna know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But never mind that, we should let it goCause we don't wanna be a t.v. episode&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And all the bad thoughts, just let em go, go, go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;[Chorus]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hands down, there will never be another one (nope)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I've been around, and I've never seen another one (never)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Because your style, I 'aint really got nothin' on (nothing)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And you wild when you ain't got nothin' on? (haha)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Baby you the whole package&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Plus you pay your taxes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And you keep it real, while them others stay plastic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You're my Wonder Woman, call me Mr. Fantastic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Stop- now think about it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I've been to London, I've been to Paris&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Even way out there in Tokyo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Back home down in Georgia, to New Orleans&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But you always steal the show&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And just like that girl, you got me frozeLike a Nintendo 64&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;If you never knew, well, now you know, know, know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;[Chorus]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Everywhere I go, I'm always hearing your name&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And no matter where I'm at, girl you make me wanna sing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Whether a bus or a plane, or a car, or a train&lt;br /&gt;No other girl's on my brain, and you the one to blame&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;[Chorus]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S7n7Ar6pBAI/AAAAAAAAAEw/oyv5GTJWUHg/s1600/for_love_of_music_by_toengt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S7n7Ar6pBAI/AAAAAAAAAEw/oyv5GTJWUHg/s320/for_love_of_music_by_toengt.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456668412743320578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Music is what feelings sound like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-4565099457625035444?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/4565099457625035444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/04/music-expresses-that-which-cannot-be.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/4565099457625035444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/4565099457625035444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/04/music-expresses-that-which-cannot-be.html' title='Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent. - Victor Hugo'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S7n7Ar6pBAI/AAAAAAAAAEw/oyv5GTJWUHg/s72-c/for_love_of_music_by_toengt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-24073573304920451</id><published>2010-03-23T21:03:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-23T21:44:45.632-05:00</updated><title type='text'>“There is no love without forgiveness, and there is no forgiveness without love.”</title><content type='html'>Its only been a few days since Kevin and I decided to get back together. We were both scared of falling into old habits or having the same fights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far things have been great! I can't remember the last time our relationship has been this good. We are happier together than before. He really has changed!  I hope he feels that I've changed for the better too. I'm so excited at the possibilities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see that he's working hard to regain my trust. I see that he's making an effort to show me he cares. I see that he's trying his best to express his feelings. I see that he is serious about proving to me that he deserves me. I love it! I'm so happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are both taking leaps of faith. We are both forgiving the past and letting it go. We both have to learn how to communicate with each other again. So far we're doing pretty good. It is like a brand new relationship with all the perks of familiarity. The spark is back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S6l49HLhrsI/AAAAAAAAAEo/RYNSSCTPlYg/s1600-h/heart%2Bsparkler.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S6l49HLhrsI/AAAAAAAAAEo/RYNSSCTPlYg/s320/heart%2Bsparkler.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452021815203442370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-24073573304920451?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/24073573304920451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/03/there-is-no-love-without-forgiveness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/24073573304920451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/24073573304920451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/03/there-is-no-love-without-forgiveness.html' title='“There is no love without forgiveness, and there is no forgiveness without love.”'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S6l49HLhrsI/AAAAAAAAAEo/RYNSSCTPlYg/s72-c/heart%2Bsparkler.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-3257747148143733868</id><published>2010-03-21T10:53:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-21T11:53:35.738-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Absence diminishes small loves and increases great ones, as the wind blows out the candle and fans the bonfire.</title><content type='html'>If you're a regular reader of my blog and Facebook but I'm sure you've noticed some strange changes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things were going well with new guy. I like him. He was cool, funny, smart, sweet. So many things I wanted in a man. We were hitting it off. But he did have some negatives that weren't deal breakers but they made me wonder. He is 29 but I'd often think "oh yeah your ARE 29" sometimes I'd feel as if he was younger. He is very proud of his muscles and physique. That made me think he could be vain and narcissistic, maybe even a show off. He lived in Dallas. I can't ever remember being in a long distance relationship and I don't think I'd handle one very well. I like to spend time with my guy. He seemed very busy. If I didn't get to see him, I'd really want to talk to him but would he have time for that/me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the process of getting to know each other. I still had feelings for my ex Kevin. I didn't want too. I wished I didn't. But no one can control their heart. I was cleaning my car and apartment and I found MORE stuff that was Kevin's. While we weren't talking because it was to painful for me. Every now and then we'd texted each other. I let him know I had some more stuff to give him. (when you're together as long as we've been its hard to detangle your lives.) He asked me to lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was really awkward at first. I didn't know what to say, what to do. I certainly couldn't let him know that I was happy to see him and missed him. He asked me about new guy. I had posted a blog about him before I made it private. ( I forgot. I knew Kevin read my blog. I know he knew how I felt about our break up. That's why I had to make it private.) I started to tell him about new guy. He told me about his prospects. (That sucked) As the lunch went on, we both relaxed and opened up out what happened. Lots of things were different. We had a conversation that didn't end in a fight or someone mad or hurt. We were able to see the other person's point of view. We understood how the other felt. We discovered we both still had feelings for each other. (I knew I did, but I had no idea he did. I think he was surprised  he did too. LOL)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the time we were apart. We had time to reflect, grow and change. Thing that we pointed out in the other that we couldn't see. They were valid points.  I could see how my actions contributed to the demise of the relationship. (I was jealous, I lost my spark, I could be a "mean girl" at times) He saw where he went wrong. And apologized! That meant so much to me.  We hadn't had that good a time in a LONG time. He asked me out on a date. I said yes. (very hesitantly but still yes) That was our first real date. ever! When we met, we were classmates that got along. I'd help him with his Comp II papers. Later we were school friends. We'd see each other around and say "hi". Then he was my math tutor. We would stay in the library after class and he'd help me. Then we started hanging out more and longer. We just fell into being a couple. Our feelings became strong and apparent. We never actually "dated".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was the best date ever! We had so much fun. We laughed we talked sooooo much like the way we used to in the beginning. It was wonderful. We spend the next day together too. Its officially been over a week. We've seen each other a lot and talked a lot. Not just about fun silly stuff. About the hard stuff, the stuff that lead to our break up. The stuff that we wanted in a partner. Kevin opened up to me in a way that he hadn't before. So many things changed in that time, lots of revelations for both of us. We are better people and happier with ourselves. We decided that we wanted to give it another try (yesterday). We both think we are too good together to give up. Things are much different in our dynamic. SO MUCH CHANGED for the better!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't had the chance to let new guy down yet. I haven't be able to talk to him. He'd call when I can't talk  or if I call/text he doesn't answer. He may be sensing that I've pulled away. I'd hate to leave him hanging but I can't get a hold of him.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S6ZOFn84LdI/AAAAAAAAAEg/4tLGN3szku4/s1600-h/romantic_love-7201.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S6ZOFn84LdI/AAAAAAAAAEg/4tLGN3szku4/s320/romantic_love-7201.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451130257509199314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-3257747148143733868?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/3257747148143733868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/03/absence-diminishes-small-loves-and.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/3257747148143733868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/3257747148143733868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/03/absence-diminishes-small-loves-and.html' title='Absence diminishes small loves and increases great ones, as the wind blows out the candle and fans the bonfire.'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S6ZOFn84LdI/AAAAAAAAAEg/4tLGN3szku4/s72-c/romantic_love-7201.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-1936068666331090478</id><published>2010-03-11T16:22:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T16:56:40.388-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Never argue with a man when he calls you beautiful</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S5l0nCxcN2I/AAAAAAAAAEY/6PdNuNJ_6TE/s1600-h/rose.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 235px; height: 207px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S5l0nCxcN2I/AAAAAAAAAEY/6PdNuNJ_6TE/s320/rose.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447513438389286754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we broke up, we both knew this one was for real, I signed up for a couple of internet dating sites. I've had a few interesting guys contact me but nothing panned out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week I began chatting with a new guy. He's cute, funny, smart, thinks I'm better looking than Miss Universe, and super smart (big plus in my book). We've been emailing and texting had one long phone convo. I like him so far. Its still way early and new but he sure knows how to talk to a lady. You can never be complemented to much. He's super silly and the conversation is easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll see where this goes. Either way its nice to know that someone thinks those thing about you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-1936068666331090478?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/1936068666331090478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/03/never-argue-with-man-when-he-calls-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/1936068666331090478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/1936068666331090478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/03/never-argue-with-man-when-he-calls-you.html' title='Never argue with a man when he calls you beautiful'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S5l0nCxcN2I/AAAAAAAAAEY/6PdNuNJ_6TE/s72-c/rose.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-6599175186887177463</id><published>2010-03-06T16:47:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-06T16:55:40.289-06:00</updated><title type='text'>IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT</title><content type='html'>So far my blog has been public. I have decided to make it privet. if you would like to continue to read my blog email your address so I can send you an invitation to view. aq2229 @ hotmail. com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In one week it will become privet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-6599175186887177463?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/6599175186887177463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/03/important-announcement.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/6599175186887177463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/6599175186887177463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/03/important-announcement.html' title='IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-1593459955954157327</id><published>2010-03-05T23:01:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-05T23:51:15.654-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Things do not change; we change.  ~Henry David Thoreau</title><content type='html'>I had a long post written out, but I'm not ready to expose those feelings and thoughts yet. It sounded very angry. I don't want to be angry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to make changes. Changes to the way I think, the way I speak, and the way I feel. I have been making steps towards that. There as been improvement. I'm on a good path but I'm not done. I will continue to practice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S5HrweiC7mI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/2yRS6qo_kMA/s1600-h/change.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 255px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S5HrweiC7mI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/2yRS6qo_kMA/s320/change.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445392642529750626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-1593459955954157327?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/1593459955954157327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/03/things-do-not-change-we-change-henry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/1593459955954157327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/1593459955954157327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/03/things-do-not-change-we-change-henry.html' title='Things do not change; we change.  ~Henry David Thoreau'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S5HrweiC7mI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/2yRS6qo_kMA/s72-c/change.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-2776537569966523822</id><published>2010-03-03T22:47:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T22:54:15.685-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I know you're on pins and needles waiting to hear more about the same old subject.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still have plenty to sort out about it. Lots of feelings and thoughts to go through. When I get a better understanding of them I'll let you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel free to leave me a comment. Words of wisdom, jokes, encouragement, whatever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-2776537569966523822?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/2776537569966523822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-know-youre-on-pins-and-needles.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/2776537569966523822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/2776537569966523822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-know-youre-on-pins-and-needles.html' title=''/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-7087370300746439670</id><published>2010-02-28T11:48:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-28T12:23:41.963-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Just because you accept things doesn"t mean you"re happy about them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had several future plans. We were trying to plan a trip to San Francisco for spring break. I was going to meet his mom and sister for the first time. (I was excited) We were going to see Alice in Wonderland together. (In 3D of course) We were going to the rodeo. I now have to change it from "we" to "I". I like being "we" better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I remind myself of the things were we weren"t compatible maybe I"ll forget about all of the other good things. (we were in sync a lot, it was almost scary) He doesn"t like roller coasters. I love them. He doesn"t see the point of amusement parks. He doesn"t like scary movies. He doesn"t like haunted houses. He doesn"t like avocados. He likes root beer. (its gross!) He likes sour cream. He doesn"t like pet names. There are more but I don"t need to list them all. He know where we differed .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you love someone you take the bad with the good. I really liked the good. I accepted the bad. Now I have to accept another thing, we are not "we" anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-7087370300746439670?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/7087370300746439670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/02/just-because-you-accept-things-doesnt.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/7087370300746439670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/7087370300746439670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/02/just-because-you-accept-things-doesnt.html' title=''/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-7402770151857467027</id><published>2010-02-27T09:06:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-27T11:48:19.156-06:00</updated><title type='text'>things I wonder about</title><content type='html'>While waiting in the ER for a couple of hours, we had nothing better to do than talk. He told me about his various adventures out with his friends and funny stuff that happened in the last few weeks. It sounded like he was having a fun time. I was happy for him. I couldn"t help but think, why couldn"t we have done those things?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More than once while we argued he told me that he didn"t feel like he could have any friends. And for some reason he felt that he needed to keep us separate. I don"t understand why he felt that way. Of course I want him to have friends and go out. I"d like to join him too. It didn"t have to be every time but I"d like to be included sometimes. It would have giving us something to do on the weekends other than sit and stare at each other asking "what do you wanna do?"  "I don"t know, What do you wanna do?"  I like his friends the few times I talked to them. I don"t know why he didn"t think we could hang out with his friends together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "friends" I didn"t like him having were the ones that were flirting with him and he didn"t put a stop to. No one wants their significant other to have a "friend" like that. Those were the ones that wore down our relationship. Him being very secretive about what he was doing and who he was talking to worn down the relationship. He would get frustrated with me and tell me I was being too insure and jealous and nothing was going on. But how could I NOT feel that way when he was being so shady and secretive and keeping me in the dark about who he was talking to? I wasn't as insure when we started, and even though he didn't do it on purpose, I became that way. I KNOW he didn't cheat on me but it still made me uncomfortable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I wanted from him was to honest and open with me. I always told him about who I was going out with, who I was texting so that he would know that he was the only one I was interested in. He never had a problem with trusting me. But by the end of us, I had a little trouble with trusting him.  That created a cycle.  He would be all secretive and act weird,  I would press him, he would get frustrated and clam up so I would press harder and he would not tell me anything. We would end up in a fight over something stupid.(most of the time it really was something silly) All I wanted from him was to be open and honest. If he was, we could have easily avoided a lot of our arguments and worked through our problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That"s not what happened, and this is where we are now. I don"t want this to be a blame post. I"m just trying to sort out what happened. I don"t hate him (obviously). I just want some clarity as to what went wrong. What was my part in it? How could things have been done different?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the last times we talked before I broke my foot. I apologized for a lot of things. Things he brought to my attention that I didn't see at the time. I now realized I didn't make it the easiest, but neither did he. I wish things were different but you can't turn back time. I hope we both learned something for the next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I debated about putting this up. I don't want people to think of him negatively.  He is a great guy. A few tweaks and he'd be perfect. Maybe one day after we've figured it all out... )&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-7402770151857467027?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/7402770151857467027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/02/thing-i-wonder-about.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/7402770151857467027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/7402770151857467027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/02/thing-i-wonder-about.html' title='things I wonder about'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-3783797273380847689</id><published>2010-02-26T21:56:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T22:11:11.285-06:00</updated><title type='text'>step in the right direction</title><content type='html'>If you read my facebook, you know I"ve had a bad day. I got a speeding ticket, I was rear ended .My brand new car I got 7 months ago yesterday. Then I fell and broke my foot. The same foot I fell and broke 7 months ago tomorrow. All before lunch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But some good did come of it. I couldn"t get a hold of my mom. My sister was at work in Clear Lake. I had not other choice. I asked Kevin for help. Of course he came to help me. We aren"t on that bad of terms. (well maybe we were at the exact moment but its was a misunderstanding that we cleared up later)  I had to ride in an ambulance. He followed. He waited with me in the ER. He drove me to my mom"s house and waited with me till she got there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the good part. After he left I didn"t have the hole in my heart feeling. I didn"t burst into tears. I guess I moved into the acceptance stage of grief.  I still miss the good times but my world is not over. I also know that I can still count of him in a real emergency. That"s a nice feeling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-3783797273380847689?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/3783797273380847689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/02/step-in-right-direction.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/3783797273380847689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/3783797273380847689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/02/step-in-right-direction.html' title='step in the right direction'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-862236626069696149</id><published>2010-02-24T21:59:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-24T22:27:40.766-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Still working out the details</title><content type='html'>In a previous post I said something like "what do you do when you break up with your best friend?" I'm still trying to figure that out. Today I was having a really stressed out day. I didn't have the one person that "gets it" to talk to about it. Later I got my grade back from my Math test. I was really worried about it and was sure I failed. Turns out I passed! Its not an amazing grade but I'm happy with it. I was so excited! but then I realized I didn't have him to tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still find myself fighting not talk to him. Its getting easier but I miss our conversations. He could usually calm me down if I was stressed. Cheer me up if I was sad. He always made me laugh. I knew I could count on him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you do when you break up with your best friend?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-862236626069696149?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/862236626069696149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/02/still-working-out-details.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/862236626069696149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/862236626069696149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/02/still-working-out-details.html' title='Still working out the details'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-8806689642556383536</id><published>2010-02-23T15:00:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T15:32:04.553-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Friends are relatives you make for yourself</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S4RGRO-zsxI/AAAAAAAAAEI/iq0VK3h6oPk/s1600-h/FriendsForever.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S4RGRO-zsxI/AAAAAAAAAEI/iq0VK3h6oPk/s320/FriendsForever.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441551511663653650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a very hard time asking for help. I never share my problems. I rarely share my feelings. I need to learn that I can lean on my friends. That is what they are they for. I chose them to be my support in times of need. I need to trust that they want to be there for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why, its always been that way for me. I just can't bring myself to ask them for help. I guess I don't want to seem "weak". I know that's silly, we're all weak at some time. No one can make it alone. I will try to ask them for support more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need my friends right now. I just don't know how to let them in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: italic;" class="sqq"&gt;“&lt;a class="sqq" href="http://thinkexist.com/quotation/friends_are_like_bras-close_to_your_heart_and/341671.html"&gt;Friends are like bras: close to your heart and there for support.&lt;/a&gt;”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-8806689642556383536?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/8806689642556383536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/02/friends-are-relatives-you-make-for.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/8806689642556383536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/8806689642556383536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/02/friends-are-relatives-you-make-for.html' title='Friends are relatives you make for yourself'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S4RGRO-zsxI/AAAAAAAAAEI/iq0VK3h6oPk/s72-c/FriendsForever.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-513120025721941742</id><published>2010-02-21T10:38:00.013-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-21T11:55:41.855-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"Let's be friends" doesn't work.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S4FstE960XI/AAAAAAAAAD4/mUl0tIoXjGM/s1600-h/Heart+Yo-yo.gif"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;(country song Rick Trevino. I don't like how his version is all peppy but its says it all)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You me wrapped around your finger&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Like a yo-yo on a string&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Playing games with my heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And I can't do a thing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; You throw me down and then you snap me up&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I'm in the palm of your hand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Why you get your kicks doing all these tricks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I'll never understand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; You give me just enough rope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Just enough hope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Just enough ties that bind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Just enough love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; But not enough of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Security and peace of mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; You give me just enough slack then you yank me back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Right before I'm gone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; You give me just enough rope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Just enough hope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; To keep me hanging on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; First you tell me that you love me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Then you push me away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; How you're gonna treat me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Changes day to day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; You build me up then you tear me down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; When you got me standing tall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; You pull the rug out from under me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Just to watch me fall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; You give me just enough rope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Just enough hope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Just enough ties that bind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Just enough love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; But not enough of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Security and peace of mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; You give me just enough slack then you yank me back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Right before I'm gone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; You give me just enough rope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Just enough hope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; To keep me hanging on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S4FwkwOjiFI/AAAAAAAAAEA/Igam0lq0T08/s1600-h/Heart+Yo-yo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S4FwkwOjiFI/AAAAAAAAAEA/Igam0lq0T08/s320/Heart+Yo-yo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440753601563822162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just when I get to a place that's manageable. I let myself be charmed by him. I lose all reason. My brain tells me the truth, tells me what will happen. But when I open my mouth, my heart takes over. The worse part is he tries to comfort me by saying "he knows how it feels to be in my position. How much it hurt to want to be more than friends with someone that has already moved on." That doesn't help. Its a stab in the heart. All it does is make me realized that I'm the only fool still in love. I don't understand how he doesn't realize how much he gives me mixed signals. Is he just trying to spare my feelings? Does he treat all his female friends this way? I'd hope not. I'd like to think I was special. Honestly, it makes it worse. Just when I get to a manageable place, he does or says something that brings me right back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-513120025721941742?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/513120025721941742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/02/lets-be-friends-doesnt-work.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/513120025721941742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/513120025721941742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/02/lets-be-friends-doesnt-work.html' title='&quot;Let&apos;s be friends&quot; doesn&apos;t work.'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S4FwkwOjiFI/AAAAAAAAAEA/Igam0lq0T08/s72-c/Heart+Yo-yo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-1305826584618559525</id><published>2010-02-20T12:00:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-21T12:27:15.494-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes holding on to hope just holds you back.</title><content type='html'>I've been really upset the last couple of weeks. I've been so heart broken over my ex. I haven't been eating, I haven't been sleeping and I'd cry at the drop of a hat. I was (foolishly) holding on to hope that we'd get back together. We had broken up a few times before and always seems to reconnect. When we broke up this last time, we both said this one felt permanent.  We've never been good at break ups. We usually talked and saw each other while "broken up" which would lead to making up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not really sure what I was hoping for. Getting back together? Him realizing that I am the best girlfriend ever? He missing and wanting me as much I did him? While clinging to hope, my heart would jump and skip a beat and I'd say a little prayer that it would be him when my phone would get a text/call. Sometimes it was and I was so happy. Usually it wasn't and I'd be soooo disappointed. He would tell me how awesome I am and that he missed "us"and how he wish we could make it work. I'd be so excited. But the next day it was like it didn't happen and I'd be so hurt. I finally told him I can no longer talk to or see him unless we are together, it was to painful to almost have what I wanted only to be crushed again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my facebook status updates said "I don't know which hurts more. Holding on to hope or realizing it won't happen." Both hurt more than imaginable but in this case I would say that hope was the worst. It made a fool of me every day. I knew I was acting foolish but I did it anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S322ZtzB3OI/AAAAAAAAADw/dVJK5L1v_L0/s1600-h/kylie_ingold_heart_jester_web.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 257px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S322ZtzB3OI/AAAAAAAAADw/dVJK5L1v_L0/s320/kylie_ingold_heart_jester_web.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439704477840039138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While driving home and crying the other day, something clicked. I almost heard it out loud. It was time to let go of my hope. I was the only one fighting so hard for what used to be. It was strange. I stopped crying. I had been texting with a friend of mine and no longer hoped it was him when my phone went off. I relaxed and actually enjoyed dinner. (soup, I hadn't eaten in a full week so I had to start slow) I actually slept that night and woke rested! These days have been better, there is still some sadness. We had a lot of fun when it worked. I really was happy with him. (most of the time)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong I would still love for him to "come to his senses" and realize that I'm the most amazing person he'll ever find and that no one will love him the way I did. And him making a grand gesture to win me back. (it wouldn't even have to be that "grand") But I will not be waiting on the side lines until that happens. If we are meant to be together we will be. But not now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had some if his things so I took them to him. He thanked me. I asked him for my heart back. A long time ago when I fell for him hard, I made him a stuffed heart. One side said "Abby's Heart" the other said "property of Kevin".  I needed it back. Its a silly little act of symbolism but I know he doesn't have my heart anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-1305826584618559525?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/1305826584618559525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/02/sometimes-holding-on-to-hope-just-holds.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/1305826584618559525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/1305826584618559525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/02/sometimes-holding-on-to-hope-just-holds.html' title='Sometimes holding on to hope just holds you back.'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S322ZtzB3OI/AAAAAAAAADw/dVJK5L1v_L0/s72-c/kylie_ingold_heart_jester_web.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-4276954145820136315</id><published>2010-02-16T20:24:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T20:30:52.320-06:00</updated><title type='text'>some times a song says it best.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="txt_1"&gt;IT'S SO HARD TO SAY GOODBYE TO YESTERDAY - Boys II Men&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do I say goodbye to what we had?&lt;br /&gt;The good times that made us laugh&lt;br /&gt;Outweigh the bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought we'd get to see forever&lt;br /&gt;But forever's gone away&lt;br /&gt;It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know where this road&lt;br /&gt;Is going to lead&lt;br /&gt;All I know is where we've been&lt;br /&gt;And what we've been through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we get to see tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;I hope it's worth all the wait&lt;br /&gt;It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'll take with me the memories&lt;br /&gt;To be my sunshine after the rain&lt;br /&gt;It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'll take with me the memories&lt;br /&gt;To be my sunshine after the rain&lt;br /&gt;It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-4276954145820136315?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/4276954145820136315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/02/some-times-song-says-it-best.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/4276954145820136315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/4276954145820136315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/02/some-times-song-says-it-best.html' title='some times a song says it best.'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-1701631545254479810</id><published>2010-02-13T12:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T20:34:11.516-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S3hKQMfxLUI/AAAAAAAAADg/RmA49q72_Ng/s1600-h/tears.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 235px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S3hKQMfxLUI/AAAAAAAAADg/RmA49q72_Ng/s320/tears.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438178192142708034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We fought hard (sometimes a lot) but couldn't make it the distance. Its too bad, it was a hell of a ride. Full of ups and downs. The ups were great,wonderful and amazing.  The downs were miserable, hurtful and tearful.  Just because you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;want &lt;/span&gt;to be right for each other doesn't mean you are. My heart aches and I've shed many tears. The worst part is so many things around reminds me of you. The happy times, the silly times. But its time to move forward and not live in the shadows of "what if?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;" &gt;To weep is to make less the depth of grief.  ~William Shakespeare, King Henry the Sixth&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can only put in foot in front of the other and hope I don't fall down. And when I do fall, I have to pick myself up, dust myself off and keep going. I have to remember that I have so many other things that are important in my life. My family and friends who love me. Studying hard and graduating with a 3.5 GPA (I'll settle for a 3.23 but that's a different story). And taking care of myself. I only get one of me, I need to make the best of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S3hOVs3qmPI/AAAAAAAAADo/_-66oEA3yNo/s1600-h/broken+heart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S3hOVs3qmPI/AAAAAAAAADo/_-66oEA3yNo/s320/broken+heart.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438182684778731762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.  ~Kenji Miyazawa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-1701631545254479810?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/1701631545254479810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/01/we-fought-hard-sometimes-lot-but.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/1701631545254479810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/1701631545254479810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2010/01/we-fought-hard-sometimes-lot-but.html' title=''/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/S3hKQMfxLUI/AAAAAAAAADg/RmA49q72_Ng/s72-c/tears.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-896290149420406775</id><published>2009-12-21T01:03:00.015-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-21T03:50:54.495-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='good news'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='getting back together'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>Its been a while...</title><content type='html'>Its been over a month since I updated my blog. A lot has happened. I'll give you the highlights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day after my last day at work my awesome co-work friends threw me a going away dinner. At first I didn't want to go. I was so depressed about the situation that I wasn't in the mood. My ex boyfriend Kevin talked me into going. (we broke up a couple of days before I quit.) He was right. I had a great time, got a little drunk and laughed a bunch. My WF friends are the best! I felt mega loved that night. Everyone gave me tons of hugs. Franky gave me the best going away gift. It made me cry! He brought my name plate and my flag with my WOW pins. It was exactly what I wanted! I also got some good news from my managers. Since I voluntary left the bank in good standing, I am eligible to apply again in 6 months! YAY!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/Sy8wBDgU5EI/AAAAAAAAABg/Kk7L91cCv-I/s1600-h/WF+crew.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/Sy8wBDgU5EI/AAAAAAAAABg/Kk7L91cCv-I/s320/WF+crew.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417601671428891714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;back row&lt;/span&gt;: Franky, Jacqueline, Alicen, Amy. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Front row&lt;/span&gt;: Catherine, Me,&lt;br /&gt;Brooke, Angel)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/Sy89OvpZBFI/AAAAAAAAACI/SfThAHCqT3M/s1600-h/massage_therapist.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/Sy89OvpZBFI/AAAAAAAAACI/SfThAHCqT3M/s320/massage_therapist.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417616200267531346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I officially decided to sign up for the massage therapy program at San Jac. In a full year, I could be certified in 17 states as a massage therapist. Awesome! I could create my own hours. I would have my choice of "offices" spa, hotels, clinics, physical therapist offices, or even freelance. And there are several technics I could  specialize in. I signed up for my classes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Kevin and I decided to part ways, I was heart broken. I can't remember the last time I was so upset.  There was still texts and IMs exchanged. We truly are good friends. That was hard for me. I still wanted to be with him but at this point we were not getting along. I don't remember how it happened, but we had lunch together on day. We talked about what we wanted in the relationship and what we felt was missing. We laid all our cards on the table and made some compromises. We still loved each other and still wanted to be with each other but we needed to take it down a notch. We decided to get back together. Its been about a month since then. So far its been great. The step back has been good for both of us. We've been really happy.           &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/Sy8-Hhkq-BI/AAAAAAAAACQ/N44lLqBrFcU/s1600-h/let_love_grows.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 246px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/Sy8-Hhkq-BI/AAAAAAAAACQ/N44lLqBrFcU/s320/let_love_grows.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417617175742183442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The more I thought about massage therapy, the more unsure I became. I started to consider redirecting again in to physical therapy. That is a more stable profession, still allowing me to have flexible hours, and liberty of locations. I would still be helping people. I went to the councilors again to ask about it. The program is only available at the south campus. I would have to take my classes there. I would have to apply to be accepted into the program. I would also have to take a couple of anatomy and physiology  classes. I don't do will with needles, blood, surgery and the thought of "deconstructing" an animal was too much for me.  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/Sy83hi2uZDI/AAAAAAAAACA/sCjxLYn3mO8/s1600-h/climbing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 217px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/Sy83hi2uZDI/AAAAAAAAACA/sCjxLYn3mO8/s320/climbing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417609926181545010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While waiting to talk to the councilors (I had an hour wait), I looked up my previous degree plan of Business Administration. I realized that I only needed 8 classes&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;8!&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;/span&gt; to finish my degree. I didn't know it was only 8. Why the heck would I start all over in a completely new field of study when I can be done in a couple of semesters?! So I dropped all of my massage classes and went back to business. I signed up for 4 classes and paid. School starts Jan 19th. I'm excited about it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't found a job, but I haven't been diligently looking. I'm taking a full course load and I have a tenancy to let school fall by the wayside. I'm afraid to overload myself. I need to find a way to balance the two. (and on my own feet!)&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/Sy9BN5Qq7aI/AAAAAAAAACY/4IhbJnpTf6s/s1600-h/elephant-balance.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/Sy9BN5Qq7aI/AAAAAAAAACY/4IhbJnpTf6s/s320/elephant-balance.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417620583714844066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-896290149420406775?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/896290149420406775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2009/12/its-been-while.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/896290149420406775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/896290149420406775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2009/12/its-been-while.html' title='Its been a while...'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/Sy8wBDgU5EI/AAAAAAAAABg/Kk7L91cCv-I/s72-c/WF+crew.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-617885842575773269</id><published>2009-11-17T11:34:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T12:03:57.854-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It is often hard to distinguish between the hard knocks in life and those of opportunity. ~Frederick Phillips</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" &gt;Yesterday I quit my job. It was a very hard decision to make. One that I didn't want to make.  A few days ago I wrote "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My job is in the air cuz of a mistake that can't seem to be found or resolved. It doesn't look good&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" &gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;for me. I love my job and I'm praying that a miracle happens&lt;/span&gt;."  &lt;span style=""&gt;It was becoming to stressful to go into work every day and wait to see if that was my last day. I chose to take control of the situation and not let the situation control me. I told my managers that I was resigning. They were sad but knew that was really my best option. I am so upset about it having to come to that. I really did love my job. But, as we all know, when one door closes another on opens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I was not about to sit at home and feel sorry for m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;yself. You can not wait for opportunity, you must create them. I went straight to the school to talk to the &lt;/span&gt;counselors&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;. I wanted to see exactly what I needed to finish my degree. I also went to talk about possibly changing my degree. I have a better idea of what I want to do. I'm excited about the possibilities.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SwLkGueSIyI/AAAAAAAAABY/_EwJ4GYTBP8/s1600/diploma.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 153px; height: 101px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SwLkGueSIyI/AAAAAAAAABY/_EwJ4GYTBP8/s320/diploma.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405133307003413282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;I am not going to hunt for a new job right away. I can coast till the end of ye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;ar comfortably. I will take this time to get more of my life in order...and clean my room! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-617885842575773269?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/617885842575773269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2009/11/it-is-often-hard-to-distinguish-between.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/617885842575773269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/617885842575773269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2009/11/it-is-often-hard-to-distinguish-between.html' title='It is often hard to distinguish between the hard knocks in life and those of opportunity. ~Frederick Phillips'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SwLkGueSIyI/AAAAAAAAABY/_EwJ4GYTBP8/s72-c/diploma.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-102287283969527097</id><published>2009-11-15T08:57:00.009-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T09:37:40.474-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Memories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='break up'/><title type='text'>Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us. -Oscar Wilde</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SwAersckH2I/AAAAAAAAABA/o1Efvu3BTtA/s1600-h/102.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SwAersckH2I/AAAAAAAAABA/o1Efvu3BTtA/s320/102.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404353288858771298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They say they best relationships are with your best friend. But what happens when you and your best friend break up? What do you do when the person you go to when your happy, or sad, or need advice isn't there anymore? How are you supposed to move on when all you think about is how much fun that person was or what great friends you are?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SwAesKZAC_I/AAAAAAAAABI/QlvbIHdfspY/s1600-h/074.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SwAesKZAC_I/AAAAAAAAABI/QlvbIHdfspY/s320/074.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404353296896887794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are reasons why we aren't together. I need to work on me before I can be with someone else. I hope the paths our lives take us will cross again. For now I will hold tight to the memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SwAesZO_djI/AAAAAAAAABQ/gsJDeabEznc/s1600-h/174.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SwAesZO_djI/AAAAAAAAABQ/gsJDeabEznc/s320/174.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404353300881438258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;"Memory is a way of holding on to the things you love, the things you are, and the things you never want to lose&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;(sage words from the Wonder Years)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-102287283969527097?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/102287283969527097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2009/11/memory-is-diary-that-we-all-carry-about.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/102287283969527097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/102287283969527097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2009/11/memory-is-diary-that-we-all-carry-about.html' title='Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us. -Oscar Wilde'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SwAersckH2I/AAAAAAAAABA/o1Efvu3BTtA/s72-c/102.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-3694059678810083154</id><published>2009-11-12T21:10:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T23:00:49.199-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='change'/><title type='text'>What doesn't kill us makes us stronger...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;The worse part about cheesy cliches is that they are true, even if they don't comfort in the moment. Yes "time heals all wounds", I know "what doesn't kill me will only make me stronger" and"everything happens for a reason", and of course "its always darkest before the dawn".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt; Right now things seem pretty dark. In the "about me" section of Facebook, I said &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;"I've returned to school and I'm kicking ass at it! I got a new job that I love.I'm more stress free. Things are starting to fall into place for me. I'm very happy with all the changes in my life"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;.  Boy how quickly things change. All of those changes are up in the air and I'm not as excited about them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt; My school is up in the air cuz I can't decide if I'm taking the right path. I might redirect but I'm scared too. Which puts my career in the air. I still haven't decided what to be when I grow up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;My job is in the air cuz of a mistake that can't seem to be found or resolved. It doesn't look good for me. I love my job and I'm praying that a miracle happens. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;My love life is in the air. Not only am I divorced, my boyfriend and I broke up. We seem like a great match. But for some reason that neither of us can express in words we aren't. We've talked and talked trying to figure out if we are really incompatible or if its a misunderstanding and poor word choice. I'm not sure what our conclusion is. For now, we decided to let our lives unfold as the may. If we are meant to be, we'll meet again. The worse part is we really are great friends and have so much fun together doing nothing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;as&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heraclitus"&gt;Heraclitus &lt;/a&gt;said "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Nothing endures but change." As much as my life seems to suck now, the tides will change again and it will be smooth sailing. (until the next storm)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"God, Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-3694059678810083154?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/3694059678810083154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2009/11/what-doesnt-kill-us-makes-us-stronger.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/3694059678810083154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/3694059678810083154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2009/11/what-doesnt-kill-us-makes-us-stronger.html' title='What doesn&apos;t kill us makes us stronger...'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242167544818884193.post-5774403941129460663</id><published>2009-11-07T20:14:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-07T21:53:54.446-06:00</updated><title type='text'>First things, first</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYXIqP_LdI/AAAAAAAAAAM/GT3MzICBOb8/s1600-h/Isaac+010.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYXIqP_LdI/AAAAAAAAAAM/GT3MzICBOb8/s320/Isaac+010.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401530240625225170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;'ve always hated when you meet someone and they say "tell me a little about yourself". My first thought is always "what do you want to know?"  My name is Abby. I just turn 31 in October. I was divorced in June. I went back to school in 2008.  Its not easy to sum yourself up in a few words, besides, what you think of yourself and what others think are not always the same. I like to think that I'm funny, smart, cute and a good friend. I hope I'm right. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;Like I said I'm newly divorced.  Now I have to relearn how to meet people, flirt and go on dates. Its been 10 years since I did that. I'm a little rusty. When your young its as easy as shooting fish in a barrel. When you get older, out of school, work full time,  (or got to school with people 10 years younger than you and work part time) where do you meet people?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;My goal for this blog is to be a diary of sorts. A place to put my random thoughts and adventures. I used to have myspace page and used to blog quite a bit. Once the beginning of the end of my married hit, I took down my page. I miss expressing myself but I'm rusty at that too! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you enjoy your journey with me as I navigate though my new path.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242167544818884193-5774403941129460663?l=abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/feeds/5774403941129460663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2009/11/first-things-first.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/5774403941129460663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242167544818884193/posts/default/5774403941129460663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbysrandomstuff.blogspot.com/2009/11/first-things-first.html' title='First things, first'/><author><name>Q2229</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15643862695570403652</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYahiVfDtI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pAjJ-iA991s/S220/274.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bPQjcKBeb7w/SvYXIqP_LdI/AAAAAAAAAAM/GT3MzICBOb8/s72-c/Isaac+010.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
