tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78030448042680571662024-03-18T19:58:33.172-07:00The Life and Stylings of LeeLeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.comBlogger432125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-89690925665356377402013-06-30T00:03:00.002-07:002013-06-30T00:03:49.878-07:006/29/2013 UpdateI haven't posted in a very long time. Its funny actually to be typing out a post at all. I'm sure most of the people that used to read my blog have long since disappeared.<br />
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My last post talked about my marriage. This post will mention my divorce. A lot can happen in a year. I don't want to sling details of the marriage out, but I will say that it has been hard. I don't think divorce ever can just be an easy thing. The nights are the hardest, when you realize that yes, you really are alone again.<br />
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The empty bed is a killer.<br />
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I occupy my time working mostly. I work part time, and am currently pursuing a career in education. I'd like to teach elementary school. I live with a roommate and her son. My life right now is simple. My goal is to rebuild and create a life that is better than anything I've had so far.<br />
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I turn 21 in less than two weeks. I'll be taking a trip to celebrate, so I can get out of this city just for a little bit. I am still in Las Vegas, despite how much I wish I wasn't.<br />
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My hair still changes on a whim, so that's one thing about me that I've kept.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuSfvbzsyFX0MlEYsG13m3zwTTlj0NZEN87oJUSZMGL0Z_gpFOB9JppbNcv8V5iEi5Mo36TdQTo7DHsn0POOhHYWwNClUrbvszSoVSCKYVNhpsA_Md1LAcgy2yFgA_cwRAgZHIum8slgE/s1280/20130627_150356.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuSfvbzsyFX0MlEYsG13m3zwTTlj0NZEN87oJUSZMGL0Z_gpFOB9JppbNcv8V5iEi5Mo36TdQTo7DHsn0POOhHYWwNClUrbvszSoVSCKYVNhpsA_Md1LAcgy2yFgA_cwRAgZHIum8slgE/s320/20130627_150356.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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My current companion is Chloe, my chihuahua. She brings me a lot of happiness, because she's always happy to see me when I come home. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBQVCXYkZAHuoxNldPN_DtVrbwxWz3Bp7RzSimB4zr7tKVNbTbkF5uYJf91pYh5gkvEdVgz15ECtW_zWojzkWBoN3EaU18qr68PefAOL8Ht2L8jhoIpTI_Yu-GluilUJCSmSXmyz7r-6A/s1600/20130406_170248.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBQVCXYkZAHuoxNldPN_DtVrbwxWz3Bp7RzSimB4zr7tKVNbTbkF5uYJf91pYh5gkvEdVgz15ECtW_zWojzkWBoN3EaU18qr68PefAOL8Ht2L8jhoIpTI_Yu-GluilUJCSmSXmyz7r-6A/s320/20130406_170248.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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My parents finally got their divorce about a year ago. My mom spends her time with my siblings now. I haven't actually seen my family in a long time. Its been almost a year and a half since I've seen my mom. Its really hard being away from family, especially while I'm struggling through my divorce. </div>
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For now I'll just keep moving forward and hope for the best. </div>
Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-63805099241569098442012-03-24T21:45:00.015-07:002012-03-24T22:49:54.601-07:00My Life in a Year<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; text-align: left; ">I haven't posted to my blog in about a year. I guess a lot of that has to do with time.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">Some of that has to do with the fact that everytime I posted something on my blog, I would hear about it the next day from certain people. I got genuinely tired of censoring myself, and chose to stop writing altogether to avoid the stress.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-size: 100%; ">The last time I posted was January of last year, 2011. It's March of 2012, almost April now. So almost a year and four months. A lot has changed in my life since then. A lot has remained the same.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><u><br /></u></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">Last time I posted I was unemployed, but I've held a job for a year now. It's consistent, but pretty tiring. I work upwards of 30 hours a week, which doesn't sound like much, but it's constant labor. No desk job for me.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">I've moved a few times since January, and I currently live in Henderson, NV. We have a nice little one bedroom apartment that's the perfect size for the two of us. It's fully furnished with our OWN furniture. Which is, of course, nice as well.</div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">On February 23, 2012 Andrew and I got married.</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifji-yjtMDHPMDrk_WrfLAh6Ruu2_h4MNtw5FqPNm-YCWxamqgUQI31zSYvNlVKUfsjRMSaP1UpCGvx0ryTxbjOaRoRESs2MSId4YE10kDu_Ae-gfTlTjLghJPN5boOj7E3BZzaVlCqNw/s320/426378_10151321897545043_876315042_23060007_1156907011_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723693837224044242" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; text-align: left; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; text-align: left; ">So, as of today I have been married for one month and one day. It was a small wedding, attended by Andrew's brother and his girlfriend, as well as four of our good friends.</span></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFE52JYL0ApJD0_DqQ18bMAngzNnQi5uSTsxHrdCQ1j_2vOSgMUmUyOyXIYIfo0b_Ny_aLHQamxD2VkeGiHFL9hxn-JCsXyk681oqWhy5v5xUu0NcSmt2Dc9CRoFwqypAT6Irkkx_2_y4/s320/403364_3134194429023_1089665077_3199338_1705842684_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723695283370308290" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /><div></div></div><div></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">I haven't legally changed my name yet because I don't have my birth certificate, but once I get it I will begin the process. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">My estranged father, who I haven't spoken to since July of 2010, found out because of the courts. Still haven't heard from him, and I'm assuming because he's too much of a coward to try to speak to me. He has all of the ability in the world, and none of the desire.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">Andrew and I have been on a few vacations in the past year. Sadly, my old computer blew up and destroyed most of the pictures. I do have a few to share.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb1IG0kIWDcKFWjyZT-LA96s4vpCdYR2w0Ap7gLp-_p5IEj9FJvxCbndrkrmyomMrrBNBqyi300ACBQKL9L8sKBfaUtIHx_eDDN0GNlIyC9JYEXaRMYahI-YgUVFp59Q1djDO4AGHTAxo/s1600/IMG_4549.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb1IG0kIWDcKFWjyZT-LA96s4vpCdYR2w0Ap7gLp-_p5IEj9FJvxCbndrkrmyomMrrBNBqyi300ACBQKL9L8sKBfaUtIHx_eDDN0GNlIyC9JYEXaRMYahI-YgUVFp59Q1djDO4AGHTAxo/s320/IMG_4549.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723698177558188834" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuqy-A1mwa8L2cPShh0n7fuSeiQtXTUQAhNze4jo_cfFKWGPSOzPGVQHplpqba8lfWKl_8SHluLDi-EnDdT3z1WywoFx8qVZswij1XlNS1ocDsjLpcG6tSezQo777FzAq44E9LNmhXBdo/s1600/IMG_4615.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuqy-A1mwa8L2cPShh0n7fuSeiQtXTUQAhNze4jo_cfFKWGPSOzPGVQHplpqba8lfWKl_8SHluLDi-EnDdT3z1WywoFx8qVZswij1XlNS1ocDsjLpcG6tSezQo777FzAq44E9LNmhXBdo/s320/IMG_4615.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723698882198638994" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwa7xLe7tcoe6ywa_m-JdfCsnePKxkDVJBD4EYuVRtxxY3Oqzg28k8GMLEUJGtUKS6lYM8RVzMIy0DaZ4efv7WjmG52KcuBNLDjWfhVyVWuJGo6Ul7CW3MuNVUgQNGdQwA41e0RmxKTH0/s1600/IMG_4631.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwa7xLe7tcoe6ywa_m-JdfCsnePKxkDVJBD4EYuVRtxxY3Oqzg28k8GMLEUJGtUKS6lYM8RVzMIy0DaZ4efv7WjmG52KcuBNLDjWfhVyVWuJGo6Ul7CW3MuNVUgQNGdQwA41e0RmxKTH0/s320/IMG_4631.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723699442279620290" /></a><br />Those were from our trip to LA back last April. We went for 5 days, and on two of the days we went to Universal Studios. We also went to the beach and the Santa Monica pier.<br /><br />We went on a camping trip with our best friends some time in the fall of last year. We've made new friends over the past year that are closer than any of our previous friends. They constantly come over and hang out, and we normally just play card games and still have a great time. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHtEoA6YZ5SA_08oAbbzTv8gFqqnUmBlu8M4yGdxiUaqlAhHmAkEdyFvbFrGjIgtZE5-edTJhWBqXKT7hhUqKhKOt0pySLrsrWOce0XNixiEBd-iOS8tra94zs_dGwLx1CqxbedaFkuPQ/s1600/392316_250643668317683_100001161555803_652989_1681465498_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHtEoA6YZ5SA_08oAbbzTv8gFqqnUmBlu8M4yGdxiUaqlAhHmAkEdyFvbFrGjIgtZE5-edTJhWBqXKT7hhUqKhKOt0pySLrsrWOce0XNixiEBd-iOS8tra94zs_dGwLx1CqxbedaFkuPQ/s320/392316_250643668317683_100001161555803_652989_1681465498_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723700348136978658" /></a> Not pictured: other best friend Josh. He wasn't on the trip, but he's over the most out of anyone.<br /><br />I also got more tattoos and a piercing.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQsFIrXacL6oToX5BWfsnGCAmZf4Fsdzvl2wwox2bTHEIaPidbH9oUStMQIqAlp4RVyws68mbuys-kafcYisQMFpFiRBJYxRi29bNJlLIc2Y2EdyGscG5X7hGD0UUNq0RP-i_2FnjR_uA/s1600/P082611_1941%255B02%255D.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQsFIrXacL6oToX5BWfsnGCAmZf4Fsdzvl2wwox2bTHEIaPidbH9oUStMQIqAlp4RVyws68mbuys-kafcYisQMFpFiRBJYxRi29bNJlLIc2Y2EdyGscG5X7hGD0UUNq0RP-i_2FnjR_uA/s320/P082611_1941%255B02%255D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723701882233398626" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-B0rXoGR83beL-eJrlqwo6zDXG2FYVO4yU6MqN9PUbibpX2OInrJMgzAC_jbs_0e-VHKkvZh_dNWw2wmIS9WDxKnYu1dwM1PJbqQn1A8BBG_YkbmRluV2HvGmCd4mLLUdfFji74Ey7sA/s1600/IMG_20110922_234531.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-B0rXoGR83beL-eJrlqwo6zDXG2FYVO4yU6MqN9PUbibpX2OInrJMgzAC_jbs_0e-VHKkvZh_dNWw2wmIS9WDxKnYu1dwM1PJbqQn1A8BBG_YkbmRluV2HvGmCd4mLLUdfFji74Ey7sA/s320/IMG_20110922_234531.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723701875064607986" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvXP7KxHOYSR8JeIxSDPbgpkNt-qF4XqX3HVlUbA7alM_jB-g7hF6izdms1I3BuhqkGfumCDCHb4PetN0gFchIcc1f5EGms9c_gBy83PYx_RTiPZOYykKlz7U_h7Z0YtkANfkM9RSw0wE/s1600/IMG_20110922_214407.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvXP7KxHOYSR8JeIxSDPbgpkNt-qF4XqX3HVlUbA7alM_jB-g7hF6izdms1I3BuhqkGfumCDCHb4PetN0gFchIcc1f5EGms9c_gBy83PYx_RTiPZOYykKlz7U_h7Z0YtkANfkM9RSw0wE/s320/IMG_20110922_214407.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723701870369793778" /></a><br />I got another tattoo, but I'm not trying to find a picture of it right now.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">My hair is now basically barbie doll blonde, which is a pain to keep up. But I wanted something different from my usual dark colors.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlLwlxUziJimESTtgT6IhWRwBFNJhcmCFIeGemWOIdyQnJkyxrDQHJWKxmuKC9ND0EeMvWuCP5ToS_fnXINL0_4d4pgCUt1fN1z2JZ1gtHHhaTvyxxqrR2_hC1FRsEzU1d7g3hGSXBjCI/s1600/427650_3233396349009_1089665077_3249093_789269448_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlLwlxUziJimESTtgT6IhWRwBFNJhcmCFIeGemWOIdyQnJkyxrDQHJWKxmuKC9ND0EeMvWuCP5ToS_fnXINL0_4d4pgCUt1fN1z2JZ1gtHHhaTvyxxqrR2_hC1FRsEzU1d7g3hGSXBjCI/s320/427650_3233396349009_1089665077_3249093_789269448_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723702680793221762" /></a><br />I also have a sweet little puppy named Chloe. She's four months old, and loves kisses and cuddles.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuGpjAaoUdHHpS9TTKcGK3bb6MMcO2iBoCPPEwdbapYfN3EwdR8qD12hIqylZtnf1fHMdXGbg9vVdXTKXUcFD8tJ4SQUnQ2iPuLC0JSJVYNjxqG5_20iIuvxvOkYxSNuEM1FQ5xsAysnY/s1600/418433_3194239610115_1089665077_3230679_2092798081_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuGpjAaoUdHHpS9TTKcGK3bb6MMcO2iBoCPPEwdbapYfN3EwdR8qD12hIqylZtnf1fHMdXGbg9vVdXTKXUcFD8tJ4SQUnQ2iPuLC0JSJVYNjxqG5_20iIuvxvOkYxSNuEM1FQ5xsAysnY/s320/418433_3194239610115_1089665077_3230679_2092798081_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723703138237010354" /></a><br />My mom and I still talk daily. We've had our ups and downs in our relationship, but we still talk and are relatively happy with eachother.<br /><br />I've had ups and downs in my life. Hardships and stresses. Last year I was supposed to be married in April, but I suppose everything happens for a reason, and I just had to wait a year to be Mrs. Lopez.<br /><br />My husband means the world to me. He genuinely cares for me and does everything in his power to provide for us. We're going on Vacation soon to get some well-deserved rest and relationship time. Of course, we're going to our favorite place in the world:<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1QSJa7sBZwtOhY6FLqxHTbp0NcGeKn7ZjMglCi9PV-N2yoto3dEK1sDx_-6fhcF_sllc2wCAZUfppfPctmCxKupEn7oVe33RtucYU9XEYfv1hQ0h0GhpG2l5XitVtApI23FLPUwdHupM/s1600/IMG_20111130_173615.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1QSJa7sBZwtOhY6FLqxHTbp0NcGeKn7ZjMglCi9PV-N2yoto3dEK1sDx_-6fhcF_sllc2wCAZUfppfPctmCxKupEn7oVe33RtucYU9XEYfv1hQ0h0GhpG2l5XitVtApI23FLPUwdHupM/s320/IMG_20111130_173615.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723705607513241394" /></a><br />Disneyland. So attractive, I know.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">Anyway, it's getting late, so I'm going to peace out. I'll leave you with my classic webcam photo, from current times.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ7wLiXpZZvxKGR5muPj7EkEr39i1R5efuTELTp01rIxa4mQRLkoqTAyHqczEUB7nfOKGeTLLJOdfFKMPy1ncMXBL4n5rBdIoBoR5Meg8tWaT038lvpxeOGQl0zVs0vPyD-gtXK3RY4J4/s1600/Snapshot_20120324_2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ7wLiXpZZvxKGR5muPj7EkEr39i1R5efuTELTp01rIxa4mQRLkoqTAyHqczEUB7nfOKGeTLLJOdfFKMPy1ncMXBL4n5rBdIoBoR5Meg8tWaT038lvpxeOGQl0zVs0vPyD-gtXK3RY4J4/s320/Snapshot_20120324_2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723707338768998946" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p></div></div></div>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-47247354813289180202011-01-28T12:50:00.000-08:002011-01-28T12:57:39.803-08:00My First Tattoo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i56.tinypic.com/rrl1ug.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 394px;" src="http://i56.tinypic.com/rrl1ug.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i54.tinypic.com/2uqlpgm.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 399px;" src="http://i54.tinypic.com/2uqlpgm.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Andrew got Mickey on the inside of his arm. It's a "hidden mickey" like at Disneyland.<p align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i56.tinypic.com/rrl1ug.jpg"></a><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-64571241433526934212011-01-11T18:13:00.000-08:002011-01-11T18:46:16.001-08:00Hairy SituationI've gone through a lot of hairstyles in my life.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i56.tinypic.com/dff4ol.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 338px; height: 253px;" src="http://i56.tinypic.com/dff4ol.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://i52.tinypic.com/2ch9bwn.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 337px; height: 291px;" src="http://i52.tinypic.com/2ch9bwn.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><p style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://i51.tinypic.com/2ypg6sg.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 335px; height: 250px;" src="http://i51.tinypic.com/2ypg6sg.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://i54.tinypic.com/33w0i05.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 227px; height: 278px;" src="http://i54.tinypic.com/33w0i05.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://i53.tinypic.com/2z3ysk1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 231px; height: 309px;" src="http://i53.tinypic.com/2z3ysk1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Not to mention...<a href="http://i51.tinypic.com/igj0j9.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 230px; height: 307px;" src="http://i51.tinypic.com/igj0j9.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://i56.tinypic.com/2qb7htz.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 338px; height: 254px;" src="http://i56.tinypic.com/2qb7htz.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://i51.tinypic.com/29n9vl3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 337px; height: 251px;" src="http://i51.tinypic.com/29n9vl3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: left;">And, last but not least...<a href="http://i51.tinypic.com/2cangx.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 337px; height: 252px;" src="http://i51.tinypic.com/2cangx.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: left;">Ever since the day I dyed my hair "redder than the devil's d--k," as Andrew likes to refer to it, I've refused to go back to anything else. My hair has been blonde, brunette, purple... but I always go back to red.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Part of me thinks that my refusal to change it up is due in part to the attention I receive for my hair. When people look at me, the first thing they notice is the giant pile of flames on top of my head.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Random people on the street compliment me, and I seem to get a reaction out of everyone.</p><p style="text-align: left;">I can't spend my entire life with hair like this. I don't need to be the lady in the nursing home that everyone feels sorry for because she won't "let go" of her youth. But I'm honestly not sure what to do.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Do I just continue on down my path and see where it takes me, or do I bite the bullet and go for something entirely different?</p><p style="text-align: left;">I don't know, I really don't. But what I do know is, for now at least, I love my fire-hair.<a href="http://i55.tinypic.com/2n1f50z.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 370px; height: 277px;" src="http://i55.tinypic.com/2n1f50z.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: left;">Aw... it's a picture of me right this very minute. I feel nostalgic.<br /></p><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-39615847143817289292010-11-03T13:49:00.001-07:002010-11-04T13:20:37.921-07:00Long Time ComingI haven't really taken the time to blog in a while. I've had a lot of sources of tension about my blogging, mixed with the time-consuming University lifestyle. <div><br /></div><div>I've been at NAU in Flagstaff since August. I'm currently taking six classes, working at the school paper, "The Lumberjack," as copy chief, working at the school radio station "KJACK," and holding down a part-time job at a diner downtown as a waitress.</div><div><br /></div><div>In July, things drastically changed with my family dynamic. A rift in relationships caused my fiance, Andrew, to move here with me to Flagstaff. We currently live with my mom, but are considering relocating to our own place sometime in late December/early January.</div><div><br /></div><div>My father and I no longer speak, and he and my mother are currently battling through a divorce. I've chosen to side with my mother after seeing how quickly my father turned on me for his girlfriend. Who, in fact, he was seeing while he was married.</div><div><br /></div><div>Andrew and is parents have mended their relationship, and I hope to one day get to know them when the time is right. Right now we're focusing mainly on building our life together.</div><div>We did recently visit some of his aunts and cousins in California on our "family vacation" to Disneyland. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've started going to Catholic services with Andrew so that I may begin my transition into the faith. Being with Andrew has helped me slowly overcome my fears and doubts, and my faith and relationship with God feels a lot stronger.<br /><br />Andrew and I are planning a trip back to Vegas at the end of the month so that I can see my friends, and he can visit his family. Hopefully it all works out, because I really do miss my friends.<br /><br />Things, for the most part, have been very happy on my end. Andrew and I still enjoy being with eachother just as much as the first day we met, and it just keeps getting better. There have been a few bumps in the road, but it's nothing we can't overcome. While I'm currently a bit of an icy subject with his nuclear family, eventually we hope that things will change.<br /><br />So as I said, this post has been a long time coming. Hopefully I'll get around to posting again soon, but until then, at least you have an update glimpse into my life.<br /></div><div><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p></div>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-78681404770402162002010-07-11T22:38:00.000-07:002010-07-11T23:58:38.846-07:00Catching UpIt's been a while since I've posted here.<br /><br />I just lost the buzz to blog. Lost my motivation. Lost the initiative. It was less about expressing my feelings, and more about popularity.<br /><br />But I have missed you all. So, I've decided to check in. Let you all know about the huge changes in my life.<br />I'll start with school. On May 18, 2010, I graduated from college.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i26.tinypic.com/dyvcav.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 248px; height: 331px;" src="http://i26.tinypic.com/dyvcav.png" alt="" border="0" /></a>I now have my Associate's Degree in Journalism, with an emphasis on media studies.<br /><br />I was accepted into Northern Arizona University, and will be attending for one semester this Fall. I'm currently living up in Flagstaff, but have made the choice to move back to Las Vegas after this Fall to attend UNLV instead.<br /><br />Flagstaff is beautiful, but I've realized now that I've left Vegas just how precious it was to me.<br /><br />I've dated a few guys since the last time I blogged. The infamous "Drew" and I broke up back in February, and I never looked back at it. It was the final step in removing myself from that situation.<br /><br />I then dated a guy named Kyle. It was a short relationship, and it didn't end particularly well.<br /><br />I also dated a guy named Matt, who I had gone to church camp with a few years prior. That didn't end particularly well, either.<br /><br />I don't regret those relationships, though. They steered me in my current direction, to the person I feel I was meant to be with. And yes, that sounds cliche. I know.<br /><br />This is Andrew:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i29.tinypic.com/2gxh7xy.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 243px; height: 407px;" src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2gxh7xy.png" alt="" border="0" /></a>I can't explain it. But it's just so simple when I'm with him. We've never fought about anything, we've never gotten on each other's nerves. We talk to each other 24/7. We make each other happy. And it's not just some teeny-bopper romance.<br /><br />I wish I could explain further, but for now, for the sake of privacy, I won't. But I can tell you it's very serious, and that I'm looking forward to the future.<br /><br />We met through my friend Cassie.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i27.tinypic.com/33z5hl0.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 279px; height: 370px;" src="http://i27.tinypic.com/33z5hl0.png" alt="" border="0" /></a>Andrew and Cassie are in a band together. He's the guitarist and she's the singer. They're both very talented, to the point that it's almost intimidating just singing along with the radio around them.<br /><br />It's fun, having the two people you care about most playing in a band together. Makes it easy to spend time with both of them.<br /><br />I've also been spending more time with Shelby lately. I'm glad I'm moving back to Vegas in December, since we've become a lot closer.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i28.tinypic.com/29zssgz.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 291px; height: 387px;" src="http://i28.tinypic.com/29zssgz.png" alt="" border="0" /></a>Oh, and I've also lost a lot of weight. I now weigh 103 pounds.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i27.tinypic.com/11t1oo4.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 277px; height: 369px;" src="http://i27.tinypic.com/11t1oo4.png" alt="" border="0" /></a>Just adding to the whole appearance thing, I also now have hair as red as FIRE.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i29.tinypic.com/1g6bya.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 336px; height: 251px;" src="http://i29.tinypic.com/1g6bya.png" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.tinypic.com/2ylqph4.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 337px; height: 252px;" src="http://i25.tinypic.com/2ylqph4.png" alt="" border="0" /></a>But this is my life, so far. Things have changed drastically, and my future seems set in a direction that I never would have imagined.<br /><br />As of today, July 11, I am an 18-year-old. An 18-year-old college graduate, that celebrated at a strip club and Denny's at 3 AM.<br /><br />I regret nothing.<br /><br />Everything in my life has been hectic and complicated, but I have someone to count on that makes me happy. I have my education. I have my family. And I am blessed in so many ways.<br /><br />My skin's even managed to clear up so much more than it used to be.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i25.tinypic.com/29mugl0.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 394px; height: 310px;" src="http://i25.tinypic.com/29mugl0.png" alt="" border="0" /></a>That was this morning, sans actual base makeup. Huzzah.<br /><br />I've missed all of you, and I hope this at least gives you some insight into what my life has become and is still becoming to this day.<br /><br />To round this off, I'm going old-school. I'm doing what I used to do after every post. A picture of me, right this second.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i26.tinypic.com/20ghesl.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 334px; height: 501px;" src="http://i26.tinypic.com/20ghesl.png" alt="" border="0" /></a><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-43677364163391342882010-03-29T18:27:00.000-07:002010-03-29T18:28:42.321-07:00I Think I'm DoneI think I'm done blogging for a while.<br /><br />I'm too tired of updating.<br /><br />I'll be back, eventually. With probably half of my followers missing.<br /><br />But the people that matter will stay.<br /><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-87268148131822074042010-03-25T09:03:00.000-07:002010-03-25T10:26:07.359-07:00I Have No Idea For a Title<div>I'm tired right now, so honestly my creative juices are not flowing like they should be.</div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>But that won't stop me from blogging right now. I'm at work, it's a slow day, so I need something to occupy my time.</div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>Of course, I would be doing something productive like homework, but I actually have no homework due.</div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>Scratch that, I just finished the paperwork for my DJ Project, but that took 5 minutes.</div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>My project is due next Thursday, and I'm finally recording it today. I'm nervous that I'm going to mess up. It's literally 15 minutes of watching the timers and pressing the right buttons, talking inbetween.</div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>The timing has to be just right. You can't stop recording, you can't splice things together. You mess up big, you have to re-record the entire thing.</div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>But at least I get to dance to some awesome music while it's recording.</div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>I would chat with my boyfriend right now, but he's otherwise occupied. So I'm all alonesie on my ownsie. Which is a really annoying phrase that I hope I never say again. But I bet I will.</div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>My classes have been relatively simple this week. They were completely canceled on Tuesday, so I spent the day hanging out with friends at school.</div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>Today I'm hanging out with my bestie Anna, and we're going to go eat and then come back to the house to video chit chat with my guy. And watch movies. And shovel junk food down our gullets.</div><br /><div> </div><br /><div>It's going to be awesome.<br /></div><br /><div>For the most part life has been good recently. Except I found out yesterday I may not actually be able to walk in graduating in May, which means I'll still never have walked in graduation.</div><br /><div>That, and my mother and I are going to be on food stamps when we move to Flagstaff. Living in government housing.<br /></div><br />Yeah, it's gotten that bad.<br /><br />My mom's applying for food stamps soon. Of course now it's like a food "credit card" now, but that doesn't make it any less embarrassing. I've never been in a situation like this before.<br /><br />But it's fine. I'll be in Flagstaff, in my dream school. That's all that matters.<br /><br />I hope.<br /><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-37798448243122401062010-03-22T20:29:00.000-07:002010-03-22T20:35:18.804-07:00Marrying a CanadianSo in order to remedy the crap I've been going through, I married a Canadian.<br /><br />It's not innuendo.<br /><br />It's not real, either.<br /><br />But my Canadian friend and I declared ourselves married, for the hell of it. And it's actually been a lot of fun.<br /><br />Until his mother freaked out at our changed Facebook statuses.<br /><br />But I still laughed.<br /><br />My mother and I have decided to move to Flagstaff in June. It's going to be a very strange shift, and rather sudden.<br /><br />I'm excited for the adventure, but very scared at the same time.<br /><br />I've decided to take less time blogging so that I can focus on school, work and my Canadian.<br />Ha, my Canadian.<br /><br />I'll still be blogging. But, I'm kind of sick of losing followers and having it bother me so much. It's not fair to me.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i41.tinypic.com/20u31p5.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 332px; height: 249px;" src="http://i41.tinypic.com/20u31p5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></div>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-72055296507544045842010-03-19T13:27:00.001-07:002010-03-19T13:49:11.733-07:00ChangesI've actually enjoyed taking a break from blogging for a while.<br /><br />Although right now I'm getting REALLY ANGRY because my "E" key is sticking and making a really annoying POP sound everytime I type something with an E in it.<br /><br />I think I may scream.<br /><br />I've been dealing with things in my personal life, which is frustrating. I've said I'm not going to talk about it, and I really want to stick to that.<br /><br />I'll just say that I hate being jerked around. Hate it, with a passion.<br /><br />But that's okay.<br /><br />I ordered my cap & gown a few days ago, and I'll be able to pick them up... I think it's April 1 or May 1. Either way, I get to wear a cap & gown! I'm also ordering honors chords and everything "honor" that I can wear.<br /><br />I really want to order a class ring from the honor society, but it's $450, and I don't know if it's worth it. But I never got to wear a class ring, and all of my friends did. It's like a right of passage that I never got to have.<br /><br />I'm worried about where we'll be after May, because in May the money runs out and we'll be broke.<br /><br />I just hope that everything can work out.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i42.tinypic.com/9r1reo.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 319px; height: 239px;" src="http://i42.tinypic.com/9r1reo.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-80298140524750962442010-03-17T19:06:00.001-07:002010-03-17T19:14:20.280-07:00Retail TherapyI went shopping today. Since my dad lost his job, we won't really have any spare money for a while. But while we still have some cash, I decided to get some clothes for the summer.<br /><br />I have created a montage for the pleasure of your eyeballs.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i41.tinypic.com/10wlmck.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 414px; height: 404px;" src="http://i41.tinypic.com/10wlmck.png" alt="" border="0" /></a>I'm trying to grow up with my style. Less t-shirts, more dresses and blouses. And skirts.<br />I did get a flowery tank, but honestly? I don't care. It's adorable.<br /><br />I also bought a new pair of jeans, but jeans are nothing special, so I didn't want to clutter my montage with them.<br /><br />IT'S MY MONTAGE, I MAKE THE RULES.<br /><br />I noticed that I dropped 2 followers overnight. I said this wouldn't bother me, but I hovered at 85 for a long time. I was happy to be above 85. I want to hit 100, somehow, some way.<br /><br />I should be thankful I have 85. But I don't need you deserters to start a trend. I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN.<br /><br />I'm also blogging on Tumblr now, much more frequently (since it's a more mindless form of blogging.) You can see it at <a href="http://www.leemariefink.tumblr.com/">leemariefink.tumblr.com</a>.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i41.tinypic.com/27xmhzc.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 346px; height: 259px;" src="http://i41.tinypic.com/27xmhzc.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-40070538392732287912010-03-16T13:28:00.000-07:002010-03-16T13:30:59.256-07:00Spring Break BlahsI'm tired and sore and pretty sure I'm getting sick.<br />So I'm not in the best mood to sit here and post a long rambling blog post.<br /><br />Instead, I'll just show you a picture.<br /><br />I feel like <a href="http://seeme-enjoyit.blogspot.com/">TeeTee</a>.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i44.tinypic.com/16a9lp5.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 365px; height: 439px;" src="http://i44.tinypic.com/16a9lp5.png" alt="" border="0" /></a><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-87199447465344077542010-03-13T11:04:00.000-08:002010-03-13T11:04:00.712-08:00Polaroid<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i39.tinypic.com/353a9vr.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 337px; height: 409px;" src="http://i39.tinypic.com/353a9vr.png" alt="" border="0" /></a><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-53937956434535106362010-03-12T16:40:00.000-08:002010-03-12T16:46:55.288-08:00Class of 2010<span style="font-weight: bold;">THEY ACCEPTED MY APPLICATION FOR GRADUATION!</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i39.tinypic.com/2mcexqd.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 236px; height: 206px;" src="http://i39.tinypic.com/2mcexqd.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>I'LL GET TO WALK IN GRADUATION IN MAY.<br /><br />I.AM.EXCITED.<br /><br />I wish I could moonwalk right now. Because I would. I would moonwalk and sing.<br />Because I'M GOING TO BE A COLLEGE GRADUATE!!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i43.tinypic.com/o0s9y9.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 348px; height: 261px;" src="http://i43.tinypic.com/o0s9y9.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-90673222524913966002010-03-10T15:51:00.000-08:002010-03-10T15:54:16.859-08:00Life As I Know ItI broke up with Drew again.<br /><br />Probably for the final time.<br /><br />It wasn't like the other splits.<br /><br />It didn't start with a fight. It didn't end with crying and pleas for "Just one more chance."<br /><br />It was 6 text messages, 20 minutes, and barely any emotion. Except my friends staring at me asking why I wasn't crying.<br /><br />It's because I was done. I was done with the blistering arguments that we would have. I was done with the lack of care that either of us had. I wanted more. I didn't want to be in a relationship because I wanted to be in a relationship.<br /><br />I wanted to be in a relationship because I wanted to be with the person.<br /><br />So I ended it. Finally, right? I've been dumped 3 times. I deserved to hold the reigns at least once.<br /><br />I care about him. I always will. But I want someone that I don't have to struggle with. Someone sweet, funny, cute. Someone that I don't have trust issues with. Someone I don't have screaming contests with.<br /><br />I'm already interested in someone, but we're taking it slow and I'm going to keep it private because I don't feel like making it into a sideshow. I really like the person, and I really want to make it work without laying it out for the world to see.<br /><br />----<br /><br />My journalism professor handed me a brief note on a piece of paper today.<br /><br />I expected it to be a graded assignment, maybe some kind of reprimand (which is why I got nervous).<br /><br />When I read it, I got so excited.<br /><br />My professor nominated me for an award as an outstanding student in the communications department.<br /><br />How awesome is that?<br /><br />My day has been great. I've been talking to a great guy, getting all my work done, no problems with anyone.<br /><br />Hopefully the rest of my week is the same.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i42.tinypic.com/6ptbt3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 331px; height: 248px;" src="http://i42.tinypic.com/6ptbt3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-25466155656391974552010-03-05T15:36:00.000-08:002010-03-05T15:39:43.917-08:00The Meaning of Life<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i46.tinypic.com/2hcdwte.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 395px; height: 244px;" src="http://i46.tinypic.com/2hcdwte.png" alt="" border="0" /></a>And it was on <span style="font-weight: bold;">SALE</span>.<br /></div><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-22074800232903828302010-03-03T19:20:00.000-08:002010-03-03T19:49:33.398-08:00Slummin' ItI've been really tired lately, which is unusual for me.<br /><br />Of course if you asked any of my friends, they would say that's not true.<br />My typical response to "How are you?" is "Tired."<br /><br />But that's just the first thing that pops into my head.<br /><br />I'm usually pretty spry. Sometimes my impaired vision makes me dizzy, causing me to think I'm tired, but otherwise I'm wide awake.<br /><br />But today I could barely keep my eyes open. I was so slow. I felt like I was going to pass out.<br /><br />Our group paper is due tomorrow, so we have to put the finishing touches on it tonight.<br /><br />And by the way, why is coffee so expensive? I spent $4 today on some coffee with chocolate syrup poured in it. Seriously? I can make it SO much cheaper at home. I could buy an entire lunch for $4.<br /><br />Not like it helped. The caffeine crash is what killed me today.<br /><br />Hopefully this weekend I can relax. I really need it. I have a midterm next week, and then spring break the week after that.<br /><br />Luckily, I won't have any homework over spring break.<br /><br />I also will be taking the week off work because I literally cannot tolerate being there on a week I could take off.<br /><br />Too much stress at my job. My mom has given me free reign over whether I decide to quit or not. That's how stressful it has been getting.<br /><br />I'm working two jobs, doing four classes, and having a relationship. Things are not as simple as I wish they were.<br /><br />Six more classes and I'm a college graduate... just six more. That's 1 1/2 semesters. I can do this. I can do this.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i45.tinypic.com/2i8iskn.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 396px; height: 297px;" src="http://i45.tinypic.com/2i8iskn.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-33800497670342053122010-03-01T11:28:00.001-08:002010-03-01T14:55:01.859-08:00Invasion of the Body SnatcherI'm pretty sure that my body has been snatched by a massive girly-girl.<br /><br />Never in my life have I been that interested in girly things.<br />Sure, I wear makeup. Sure, I do my hair. But that's just because I like to look nice.<br /><br />Plenty of people that are not girly do those things.<br /><br />But suddenly, everything has changed.<br /><br />I like the color pink. All of my electronics are pink. All of them.<br />Oh, except my laptop. It's white.<br />In a pink carrying case.<br /><br />My Ipod is in a pink silicone cover.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i47.tinypic.com/4kh4yo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 185px; height: 185px;" src="http://i47.tinypic.com/4kh4yo.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>I think that's what started it. Ever since then I've started incorporating pink into almost everything that I buy.<br /><br />Except my clothes. For some reason they're always in lovely hues of gray and black.<br /><br />I did my nails this weekend pink with gold tips.<br /><br />My trip to walmart consisted of $10 worth of fruit, bubble bath, lip gloss, mascara and a nail kit.<br /><br />It used to consist of Yugioh cards and other really guyish things. I feel like I've lost my way.<br />I've turned into a girl.<br /><br />Last night I was up until 11 pre-curling my hair to insure perfect bouncibility when I woke up this morning.<br /><br />I also had to replace my cellphone this weekend because it was malfunctioning. I managed to also scratch the (bottom) of the screen with an exacto knife trying to put on the screen cover.<br /><br />Needless to say, it didn't work. So I bought new screen covers, and am currently using the temporary one until the new ones come.<br /><br />The new ones are really cool anyway. They're mirrored.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i50.tinypic.com/5xsbvm.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 252px;" src="http://i50.tinypic.com/5xsbvm.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />There's actually a video about how it works that's pretty neat.<br /><object height="244" width="325"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YzTuR4YkaA0&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YzTuR4YkaA0&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" height="244" width="325"></embed></object><br />While I was buying all that stuff, I took the liberty of fully embracing my girly side and bought some more cellphone accessories.<br /><br />I have to keep this phone for 2 years, so I'm doing everything humanly possible to keep from breaking it.<br /><br />I bought another cover for the phone. (I already have a plain pink one.)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i48.tinypic.com/14t4s5k.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 154px; height: 228px;" src="http://i48.tinypic.com/14t4s5k.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And then I bought a leather pouch to carry the phone in so that I REALLY can't break it.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i46.tinypic.com/pocw5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 223px;" src="http://i46.tinypic.com/pocw5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Needless to say, I feel like I'm going to cry if I break a nail, and I fear that I've gotten one step closer to dying my hair bleach blonde.<br /><br />This cannot end well.<br /><br />edit: I FORGOT, MY BLUETOOTH IS ALSO PINK.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i47.tinypic.com/2ug1l46.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 213px;" src="http://i47.tinypic.com/2ug1l46.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-69921601054543547122010-02-24T22:43:00.000-08:002010-02-24T23:01:27.568-08:00Skin MattersAs most of you know, I've been struggling with acne pretty much my entire teenage life. <div><br /></div><div>For the past 7 years I've dealt with breakouts that were mild, and some so painful that I would cry looking in the mirror.</div><div><br /></div><div>Recently I developed a lot of cysts and acne that was completely unmanageable.</div><div>I could not move my face or smile/frown because it would painfully twinge one of my cysts.</div><div><br /></div><div>When people think of acne, they automatically relate it to being unclean. This is a very unfair assumption. I clean my face 2-3 times a day, depending on whether I'm wearing makeup or not.</div><div><br /></div><div>For a while my skin was doing okay. It was not clear, but it was manageable. But then I had to switch birth control, and my topical medicine was not working anymore.</div><div><br /></div><div>Long story short, this was my skin on February 12.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i45.tinypic.com/21dkahl.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 261px; height: 348px;" src="http://i45.tinypic.com/21dkahl.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i45.tinypic.com/29kt3wy.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 258px; height: 344px;" src="http://i45.tinypic.com/29kt3wy.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i47.tinypic.com/bhc8yr.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 260px; height: 348px;" src="http://i47.tinypic.com/bhc8yr.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Yeah, that bad.<br /><br />It is embarrassing when you can't feel comfortable leaving the house without make. I didn't even feel comfortable leaving the house WITH makeup.<br /><br />Makeup only goes so far to cover up the redness.<br /><br />I stopped taking my birth control and started using this:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i50.tinypic.com/bg6q8.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 313px; height: 289px;" src="http://i50.tinypic.com/bg6q8.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i48.tinypic.com/29qh6kj.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 219px; height: 219px;" src="http://i48.tinypic.com/29qh6kj.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i48.tinypic.com/2rgzyfb.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 290px; height: 290px;" src="http://i48.tinypic.com/2rgzyfb.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>My doctor suggested all of them. I thought the last two were weird, but after only a few weeks my skin is looking a lot better.<br /><br />It's not perfect, not by a long shot. I've got redness to fade and a few tiny leftover breakouts to clear. But if I had to leave the house right now, it wouldn't be the end of the world.<br /><br />Unless it really is the end of the world right now... then yeah. It'd be the end of the world.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i48.tinypic.com/fky2a9.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 361px; height: 271px;" src="http://i48.tinypic.com/fky2a9.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><div><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p></div>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-84936184531896616112010-02-22T11:42:00.001-08:002010-02-22T20:43:59.275-08:00Peter FacihottieBecause I work for an entertainment website, oftentimes I have to go out and cover different events.<br /><br />I don't care if it's for my dad. I get a press pass. YOU DON'T GET A PRESS PASS!<br /><br />While it's cool to see local celebrities going down the carpet in front of the media line, it can get very boring very fast to always see the same faces.<br /><br />Trust me, seeing Criss Angel and Carrot Top a hundred times is not much of a treat.<br /><br />I squished myself into the press line, full of photographers and interviewers, and grabbed the best spot that I could to do my duty.<br /><br />Trust me, it can get really crowded when hundreds of people are crammed behind a few velvet ropes.<br /><br />I figured that I would snap a few pictures of the local celebs, and then go off and mingle or get a drink. Anything to numb the boring pain that the locals tend to cause.<br /><br />Imagine my surprise when Peter Facinelli turned the corner with his wife.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i49.tinypic.com/1j172o.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 253px; height: 337px;" src="http://i49.tinypic.com/1j172o.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>I. Died.<br /><br />For those of you that don't know, Peter Facinelli plays Dr. Cullen in the Twilight movies.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i45.tinypic.com/4qor5h.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 250px;" src="http://i45.tinypic.com/4qor5h.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>In other words, he's like Twilight royalty to those of us that are fans.<br /><br />I'll admit it. I squealed. I squealed like a little pig being chased around a farm.<br /><br />I started rapidly snapping pictures, hoping to get the perfect glimpse of him. My camera is rather wimpy compared to the other photographers, and they're rather bulky. So I was standing on my tip-toes trying to shoot over their heads.<br /><br />But I did get some good shots, even if they are only profile.<br /><br />After he walked away, none other than Neil Patrick Harris walked up.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i48.tinypic.com/bpue.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 296px;" src="http://i48.tinypic.com/bpue.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Once again, I squealed. I just couldn't help myself. I don't care if he's gay, he's sexy.<br /><br />Once again, snap snap snap taking pictures. I was loving every minute of it. I got some better shots of Neil than I did of Peter.<br /><br />Then who showed up? Perez Hilton.<br /><br />He's kind of a douche. I wanted to take a picture with him later, and he snubbed me to take a picture with one of his little blonde bimbo friends. Jerk.<br /><br />I also saw Taye Diggs. He is HOT.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i46.tinypic.com/2q325xi.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 210px;" src="http://i46.tinypic.com/2q325xi.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Of course the list goes on and on of cool celebrities that came my way. It was a very good night.<br /><br />Now I've got a lot of schoolwork to do, and barely enough time to do it. I have two assignments due on Wednesday, both I haven't started. (I didn't even know we had them.)<br /><br />I have a group paper due next Thursday, which I would be working on now except NONE of my group has told me WHAT I'M SUPPOSED TO DO. I am NOT going to fail this because of them, so I'm considering sitting down and writing an entire paper by myself, and letting them plug their things into it so that I KNOW it will be done.<br /><br />I'm tired of people that aren't motivated. It is infuriating.<br /><br />I bought some new clothes this weekend, and my mom is going to get me a Bluetooth so I can talk on my phone hands-free again.<br /><br />This week is going to be way too busy, with not enough time.<object height="200" width="300"> <param name="flashvars" value="offsite=true&lang=en-us&page_show_url=%2Fphotos%2F46167051%40N07%2Fsets%2F72157623350465397%2Fshow%2Fwith%2F4373324223%2F&page_show_back_url=%2Fphotos%2F46167051%40N07%2Fsets%2F72157623350465397%2Fwith%2F4373324223%2F&set_id=72157623350465397&jump_to=4373324223"> <param name="movie" value="http://www.flickr.com/apps/slideshow/show.swf?v=71649"> <param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://www.flickr.com/apps/slideshow/show.swf?v=71649" allowfullscreen="true" flashvars="offsite=true&lang=en-us&page_show_url=%2Fphotos%2F46167051%40N07%2Fsets%2F72157623350465397%2Fshow%2Fwith%2F4373324223%2F&page_show_back_url=%2Fphotos%2F46167051%40N07%2Fsets%2F72157623350465397%2Fwith%2F4373324223%2F&set_id=72157623350465397&jump_to=4373324223" height="200" width="300"></embed><a class="lohtlwtqjlrftqugzkvr" href="http://www.flickr.com/apps/slideshow/show.swf?v=71649"></a></object><br /><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-49588518722263192222010-02-18T20:16:00.000-08:002010-02-18T21:00:47.798-08:00"Miss J"This week has been nice. Really.<br /><br />It's been less stressful. More me-time, more friend-time.<br /><br />Of course, the whole "walk into class on Tuesday only to realize there's a test you didn't study for" thing didn't help with the stress. But I guessed my ass off and pulled an 8/10.<br /><br />I'm a good guesser.<br /><br />We have a group paper due in two weeks. I really hate group papers. I don't hate working with other people. I simply hate resting my grade on someone else. I want credit for my work and my competence, no one else.<br /><br />We have been working in the studio in the radio class. We've been working on our "DJ" personality. We simply have to know how to speak like a radio DJ. It varies based on the format of station you're speaking for, but the basic concept is the same.<br /><br />For whatever reason, I decided to go with "Hot 97.5." My teacher said we have to have "attitude" when doing a station like this. I had to create a "DJ" name, so I went with "Miss J" for absolutely no reason.<br /><br />I didn't think about "Miss J" from America's Next Top Model until I had already taken the plunge, and even then my friend pointed it out before I noticed. There was no going back.<br /><br />Now whenever I say "You're listening to Miss J," I imagine myself as a cross-dressing man with amazing legs and an attitude.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i49.tinypic.com/2uj0dx4.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 294px; height: 374px;" src="http://i49.tinypic.com/2uj0dx4.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>As if this wasn't bad enough, my Professor told me I should do a "sassy snap" after I say my name.<br /><br />I lost it. I was laughing too hard. I started yelling about being a transvestite, and blamed my friend Heather for reminding me of Miss J from ANTM. Everyone in the class was laughing hysterically, including the Professor.<br /><br />I got it together, did my thing and got through it without stumbling over anything.<br /><br />It went a little something like this:<br /><br />"You're listening to HOT 97.5, your music all day, everyday.<br />I'm Miss J *sassy snap*, and you just heard Poker Face by Lady Gaga.<br />Coming up on June 2nd the Running Rebels will be having a charity event at the Thomas and Mack arena.<br />There's going to be lots of special guests and fun, so make sure you come on down to support Saint Jude Children's Hospital!<br />You can get tickets at ticketmaster.com.<br />Don't turn that dial, you're listening to Miss J *sassy snap* on HOT 98.9, the music you want, all day, everyday."<br /><br />And then everyone applauded.<br />No, really. Everyone applauded.<br /><br />I'm surprised I got through it. The first time I "sassy snapped," I could see the professor laughing hysterically through the glass. But I just rolled with it.<br /><br />I stayed after with my friends to practice more.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i46.tinypic.com/23gyd10.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 244px; height: 325px;" src="http://i46.tinypic.com/23gyd10.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>I feel like a real DJ when I'm in front of the mic. It's really fun.<br /><br />While practicing I said something remarkably stupid.<br /><br />"You're listening to 87.9, Las Vegas' classic music station.<br />You just heard Beethoven's symphony.<br />Would you like to win ticket's to Beethoven's conce...eeee...rr... wait."<br /><br />There's no recovering from that.<br /><br />I am learning recovery though.<br /><br />"We'll be at Mood nightclub tonight for ladies night!<br />We'll be setting up at around 8 AM... well wait, 8 AM is too early for a nightclub!<br />We'll be there at 8 PM!"<br /><br />Oh yeah, I'm smooth.<br /><br />I have recordings of myself with music doing this, so maybe I can find a way to show you.<br /><br />You're listening to Miss J on PerpetualBurnBlog.com, today's hottest blog from yesterday and today.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i46.tinypic.com/35ck4za.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 316px; height: 237px;" src="http://i46.tinypic.com/35ck4za.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i46.tinypic.com/2qk1n42.jpg"></a><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-77882297793869317042010-02-15T15:09:00.000-08:002010-02-15T15:09:00.770-08:00My RealizationI've realized now, after taking this break over the weekend, that my blog has become less a place for me to enjoy myself, and more a place that I feel obligated to maintain.<br /><br />Blogs shouldn't be popularity contests.<br /><br />I was always trying for the most comments. If I didn't crack 10, I was disappointed.<br /><br />Sometimes I would even delete a post if it didn't get much attention.<br />I would come home at night, exhausted, wanting to just lay down and not do anything. I work, go to school, work my second job (as webmaster), deal with friends, boyfriends, family, exercise.<br />So even when I just wanted to lay down, I felt obligated to sign on and write something.<br /><br />It shouldn't be like that. I shouldn't feel forced into posting.<br />This all came to after the freedom I felt this weekend. I wasn't obligated. I was nothing. I did what I wanted. I barely ever touched the computer. I actually didn't touch my computer at all for 2 days.<br /><br />What did I do? I read. I wrote up a list of books that I wanted to read. I went to the library. I went to shows. I went on a great date with my boyfriend, complete with dinner, bowling and an arcade.<br /><br />I watched movies. I talked to friends. I took pictures. I took BUBBLE BATHS.<br /><br />I really, finally, paid attention to life. My eyes weren't glued to the computer screen.<br /><br />So from now on, I'll post when I feel like it. But I won't post every single day, unless I feel like doing it. I'll comment on blogs, but if the post doesn't interest me, I might not. I'm not going to wear myself out sorting through 100 blogs. Some nights I sit here for hours commenting, and for what? 10 people commenting me.<br />It doesn't add up, and it doesn't matter to me anymore.<br /><br />Now my posts will be relevant. They'll have more substance. Why? Because it won't be something crammed together in 10 minutes.<br /><br />This weekend was my awakening. And it all started with these:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i47.tinypic.com/kf2neo.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 415px; height: 311px;" src="http://i47.tinypic.com/kf2neo.png" alt="" border="0" /></a>My boyfriend took time out of his life to appreciate me, to send me beautiful flowers.<br />So I need to do the same for myself. I need to stop being consumed in the electronic universe, and start really appreciating myself and the world around me.<br /><br />Read more books, talk to more people. Go out more, do more things.<br /><br />So honestly, my blog will be my place. When I feel I have something to say, I will say it. If you have something to say that I actually care about, I'll let you know.<br /><br />But this will not run my world anymore.<br /><br />Real life will.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i47.tinypic.com/zsqr9t.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 363px; height: 272px;" src="http://i47.tinypic.com/zsqr9t.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-20030545617347612172010-02-11T17:55:00.000-08:002010-02-11T18:00:13.459-08:00Break TimeMy hair is f#$%ing purple, my face is covered in cysts (and so is my back), the flowers Drew sent from Proflowers had FECAL MATTER on them (WHICH WAS ON MY FINGERS AND I CAN STILL SMELL IT), my grandmother passed away, I'm putting up 70 articles on my dad's website...<br /><br />I need a break.<br /><br />Just a few days. Stress free. No commitment to anything.<br /><br />So I'm going to take a break.<br /><br />I'll be back on Monday.<br />I need it.<br /><br />Plus, MY HAIR IS F#&%ING PURPLE.<br />PURPLE.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" ><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">PURPLE.</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i50.tinypic.com/hwz9xh.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 354px; height: 265px;" src="http://i50.tinypic.com/hwz9xh.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-22727657935548800322010-02-09T17:35:00.000-08:002010-02-10T08:17:21.242-08:00My Favorite Superbowl Commercial<object height="296" width="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.hulu.com/edp/http%3A%2F%2Fwww%2Ehulu%2Ecom%2F/embed/l62JPdA2-UIxHfVckGMVow"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.hulu.com/edp/http%3A%2F%2Fwww%2Ehulu%2Ecom%2F/embed/l62JPdA2-UIxHfVckGMVow" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" height="296" width="350"></embed></object><br />I'm still laughing. That commercial was ridiculous.<br /><br />Figured I'd post something funny. Nothing much has happened today. More class, more quizzes.<br />They're holding a memorial service for my grandmother, but it's snowing so hard and we're so broke we couldn't make it.<br /><br />So it's nice to laugh.<br /><br />Made my mom laugh when I told her I felt uncomfortable getting undressed to take a shower because I felt like my grandma was watching me naked.<br /><br />It's true.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i45.tinypic.com/34xkuqb.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 382px; height: 286px;" src="http://i45.tinypic.com/34xkuqb.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803044804268057166.post-19633057249946788042010-02-08T16:17:00.001-08:002010-02-08T16:42:34.208-08:00My Weekend in ReviewI don't exactly know how to start this post, since the last post was really upsetting to me.<br /><div><br /><div></div><div></div>My grandmother passed away early Friday morning after being in hospice since December.<br /><br /><div>I haven't cried. I've barely thought about it.</div><div>Not because I don't care. It's because I refuse to believe it happened.</div><br /><div></div><div>My Lala was so full of life. I can still remember the way she laughed. The way she smiled. I always remembered her with a cigarette in her hand, and the way she called my mom "Susie" in that thick accent.</div><br /><div></div>It's hard to imagine that someone that full of life could be gone. It's so hard for me. It's even worse for the rest of my family.<br /><br /><div>My mom has been stoic, but deep down I know that she is really distressed. I'm worried about my Grandfather, because my Lala was his entire life.</div><br /><div></div><div>It feels like the core of our family is gone, and now we're aimless. We used to always go to Lala's house whenever we would go to Tennessee. Now what? Where do we go when my grandpa doesn't have it?</div><br /><div></div><div>On top of that, we've had to do a lot with electronics this weekend.</div><br /><div>I had to go get a new laptop. So now I have this:<img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 262px; height: 245px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://i47.tinypic.com/5nnigi.gif" border="0" /></div><div></div><div>I also had to get a new phone, so I got this one:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i49.tinypic.com/5cxdnm.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 340px; height: 255px;" src="http://i49.tinypic.com/5cxdnm.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>It's the Samsung Rogue. I also bought screen protectors and a pink case to protect the phone.<br />I had to pay $132 out of pocket for it all. Which really sucked.<br /><br />But that was my weekend.<br /><br />Oh, and I updated TheJerryFink.com. So make sure you check it out.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i45.tinypic.com/wiamfc.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 319px; height: 191px;" src="http://i45.tinypic.com/wiamfc.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><p align="center"><img src="http://i29.tinypic.com/2q3rccy.png" /></p></div>Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06675576869395449536noreply@blogger.com12