surveys that i can add to my blog are fun...
ok...what's the deal with passive-aggressive guys? i mean, really...are there guys out there who are just simply happy when you call them back, instead of giving the third degree and a huge guilt trip for not calling them back sooner? here's a short play-by-play of the conversation from just a little while ago:
many things over the last 18 months have made me feel like i am in west virginia. many stereotypes fulfilled. however, last night i had the pleasure of meeting a gentleman, born and raised west virginian, named Buck. Buck Wheat. now, to be fair, he is actually quite attractive and has a fun sense of humor. his real name is William Wheat, but 'Buck' has been past down as a nick name for 5-or-so generations. to his dismay, the 'little rascals' put a more-than-slight damper on the familial pride of carrying such a name. and also, to his credit, he understands the humor of both his name, and the state in which he was raised. though as someone from 'up north' i have to chuckle at such a situation;) (sorry hallie) and in truth, i'm sure drinks at Crockett's next week will be just as much fun if not more.
so, sometimes i feel like my life is nothing but drama. sometimes i feel like the only thing interesting going on is that my dog ate half of a cookie dough roll and threw it all up two days later. these last few days i've been very pensive and introverted. which usually also brings along a semi-depressed state. last week i was better...excited about making positive changes, getting out of my comfort zone b/c i know it's good for me. this grand idea has manifested itself in two somewhat obvious ways. 1) i started finally using the exercise ball i bought a few months ago, and after not being able to move after the first day, i did not give up, but continued to exercise for almost a whole week. i ate better and tried to only drink water. (i hate water). 2) i decided that i'd ask my current man of interest out on a date. however, after asking a mutual friend for his number, i still do not have it in my posession. i suppose she still hasn't seen him to get it from him, but this is all reminding me so much of 4th grade note-passing, i feel like she should give him a napkin with the question "will you go out with reshae" and a box for 'yes' and 'no'. after having answered, he will give it back to Suzie-Joe to give back to me. (funny, her real name is Sue-Ellen) ABORT, ABORT, ABORT. oh well. at least i tried right?
samantha: i have to tell you, the fireman was everything i thought he would be.
Have you ever wondered which hurts the most? Saying something and wishing you hadn't? or saying nothing and wishing you had?
Word of the Day for Saturday December 31, 2005
well, this is one of the last days from my trip that i wrote on...:)
well...today is my last day of freedom. tomorrow the 4th of 4 semesters of grad school begins. and i'm not exactly thrilled. however, i'm trying to be optimistic and i plan on taking each day at a time. thinking of the next four months, with no free time other than a grand trip to GR for a concert is less than appealing. one day at a time. it's my new motto.
well, i have safely made it back to the good ol' US of A. where people drive on the right side of the road and are generally less welcoming. it's strange when something that's been long expected is over, or almost over. i still have a 5+ hr road trip tomorrow before i can settle back in. it seems both like it's been ages since i left and also as if it's over way too soon. so it's mixed feelings of happiness and contentment at a trip well spent, sadness in leaving mom and a grand country, happiness that living out of a suitcase is almost over, and fear at what the up and coming days and weeks bring with school starting in a short 2 days.
well...yes, i am still alive!! and regret not having posted sooner...however, even though i do have access to the internet, i haven't had much time to use it. so..i will be sure to post plenty so that anyone who happens to come across the blog will be filled in on the trip.