<?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-5702342</id><updated>2011-06-23T16:25:40.400-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Freshman Year</title><subtitle type='html'>My experiences as a college freshman at Michigan State University</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>124</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-112523750017107604</id><published>2005-08-28T09:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-28T09:58:44.220-04:00</updated><title type='text'>3hird Year Has Officially Begun</title><content type='html'>&lt;i style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;    &lt;/i&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;My first post of my Third Year can be found at &lt;a href="http://3hirdyear.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://3hirdyear.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt;. Hope you enjoy yourself as much as I hope to enjoy my junior year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-112523750017107604?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/112523750017107604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=112523750017107604&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/112523750017107604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/112523750017107604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2005/08/3hird-year-has-officially-begun.html' title='3hird Year Has Officially Begun'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-111394087821137244</id><published>2005-04-19T15:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-19T16:01:18.213-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't know why</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;In case you were reading this blog, I decided to skip out on doing one sophomore year, because simply put, nothing much has happened since last May. I'll more than likely do a third year blog, so stay tuned.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-111394087821137244?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/111394087821137244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=111394087821137244&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/111394087821137244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/111394087821137244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2005/04/dont-know-why.html' title='Don&apos;t know why'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-109927756130803706</id><published>2004-10-31T21:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-10-31T21:52:41.306-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Done</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;If you don't realize it by now, i'm done with this page. so don't even bother checking it out anymore. later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-109927756130803706?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/109927756130803706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=109927756130803706&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/109927756130803706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/109927756130803706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/10/im-done.html' title='I&apos;m Done'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108778764882824271</id><published>2004-06-20T23:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-20T23:14:08.826-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So I'm watching &lt;em&gt;Big Fish&lt;/em&gt; with the parents, and my phone vibrates- somehow I have a voice message but didn't get a call from anyone. Thanks AT&amp;T, I really appreciate it. Even before I pull the phone out of my pocket, I knew it was Liza. I just knew it. I listened to the voice mail, then went outside to get my books from the car, and called her from there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just so turns out she's going to be in Michigan for the whole week. My eyebrows jumped at hearing this, I was incredibly happy all over again. Instantly I started planning in my mind how I'd be able to go see her. &lt;em&gt;Let's see, she's in Troy, an hour away I could see her after work if she met me somewhere near there we could go see a movie or grab a bite to eat something anything I need to see her I miss her.&lt;/em&gt; My mind was racing, pouring over the endless possibilities I was coming up with it. I know I'll see her on Saturday for sure, but at a family party. I need to see her in a more intimate setting, someplace where I can just look in her eyes and tell her how much I've missed her, without worrying about whose eyes are looking in my direction. I can only hope this week works out to my favor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108778764882824271?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108778764882824271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108778764882824271&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108778764882824271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108778764882824271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/06/so-im-watching-big-fish-with-parents.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108770668085618405</id><published>2004-06-20T00:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-20T00:44:40.856-04:00</updated><title type='text'>damn damn damn</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;sad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;the drugs don't work~the verve&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***cliché alert*** seeing liza today was a breath of fresh air. it's a damn shame that the breath only last a couple hours. my parents ate dinner fast and before i knew it i was driving down 275 south, headed back home, angry out of my mind that i couldn't see her anymore. i even thought in my mind that i could drive back to troy, but being an hour long drive and tired as hell already and not sure of the directions, i couldn't. i wish &lt;em&gt;i&lt;/em&gt; could've at least given her the earrings, but i didn't have any time to finish dinner, much less do that- i ended up giving it to jason, but god knows if he did it in front of paul or anyone else, like the jackass he is. i miss her so much already. i didn't even get to say &lt;em&gt;i love you&lt;/em&gt;. i left by saying good nite, that was it. how depressing. my dad's a bastard, and yes it's now father's day. i never thought he would be the one to shut me down, i always thought it would be mom, but alas, mom tried to help me out a bit, she's the one that wanted to know more about liza, the one that likes liza a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm going to that wedding in toronto, even if i can't see her, at least i'll be in the same area as her. i can at least hope we'll hang out. that would be amazing. it'd make me just happy beyond sin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108770668085618405?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108770668085618405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108770668085618405&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108770668085618405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108770668085618405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/06/damn-damn-damn.html' title='damn damn damn'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108751441158712605</id><published>2004-06-17T19:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-17T19:20:11.586-04:00</updated><title type='text'>yeah, i know</title><content type='html'>ok i just realized something- all this frustration couldn't possibly be from tonite, from liza calling me a drama queen, there's gotta be more. i think it's mostly my parents trying to shut me down and keep me their little boy forever. my mom keeps telling me to study, work hard, and pray, so often that it's making no sense to me anymore. dad doesn't want me to have anything to do with girls right now, period. i cant believe that. and there's yet another issue. my dad and i will never have the relationship that other sons have with their fathers. playing baseball, talking about girls, working with each other, just &lt;i&gt;talking&lt;/i&gt;. i can't remember the last time my dad and i actually talked heart to heart, it's always been him scolding me if anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;of course, i'm lucky to have a father, and i know a lot of people are much worse off than me, but i haven't experienced that so this is my worst. i just wish me and him had a more regular relationship than we do now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108751441158712605?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108751441158712605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108751441158712605&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108751441158712605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108751441158712605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/06/yeah-i-know.html' title='yeah, i know'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108751429433105126</id><published>2004-06-17T01:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-17T19:18:14.330-04:00</updated><title type='text'>drama queen</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;angry/sad/angry/depressed/angry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;go figure, the nite i'm really angry and my laptop freezes up, so now i'm typing on the cell phone and will post this later. i was tired, but now i'm wide awake. my heart and mind are heavy, all because of how we ended tonite. i hate this  feeling- if there were a punching bag in front of me, i'd demolish it and still be angry. i'm even debating whether or not i even wanna go to the party on saturday. can you tell how angry i am? i'm so angry i'd give up seeing the girl of my dreams. if we get this resolved before saturday, i i still won't be myself. i'm just gonna stay quiet the whole time, just be respectful and stay away from the little kids. i need to try and sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108751429433105126?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108751429433105126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108751429433105126&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108751429433105126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108751429433105126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/06/drama-queen.html' title='drama queen'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108726928220680430</id><published>2004-06-14T23:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-14T23:15:12.236-04:00</updated><title type='text'>whoops</title><content type='html'>i forgot what i really wanted to say. i know it's obviously not true, but i can't help but feel like liza's using me to get these earrings she wants. i mean, they're not even that expensive, but seeing as how she talks to me about the earrings and then hasn't talked to me since makes me feel a little odd. i needed to get that off my chest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108726928220680430?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108726928220680430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108726928220680430&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108726928220680430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108726928220680430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/06/whoops.html' title='whoops'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108726882595260552</id><published>2004-06-14T22:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-14T23:16:18.890-04:00</updated><title type='text'>do i deserve this?</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;wish i knew&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;not enough~our lady peace&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yeah yeah, i'm sure i'm makin a big deal out of nothing. liza said she'd call on saturday, but didn't. so she's busy, whatever, she could've at least emailed/called or done something to let me know. i think my problem is i care &lt;i&gt;too&lt;/i&gt; much. i need to be more laid back and stop wondering if liza's thinking about me when i'm thinking about her. i'm too sensitive, so it's time to toughen up. if she doesn't feel like talking for one reason or another, then that's fine. i don't need to talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm supposed to see her at andrew's first communion party this saturday, but the longer i go without talking to her, the more i really don't feel like going. i won't be able to have as much freedom as i had in toronto since my parents and brother will be there. as much as i love her, i've gotta distance myself from her, otherwise it'll be a difficult next 3 years.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108726882595260552?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108726882595260552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108726882595260552&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108726882595260552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108726882595260552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/06/do-i-deserve-this.html' title='do i deserve this?'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108710293519089848</id><published>2004-06-13T00:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-13T01:02:15.190-04:00</updated><title type='text'>ha. ha.</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;pretty damn fine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;ghettomusick~outkast&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so yeah, that grad party was ridiculously boring. jenny still doesn't know my name. i didn't feel like i belonged at the restaurant last nite. bought some dress shirts today, very nice. snl was funny. i wanna take pictures of random stuff. i think i found some earrings. good nite.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108710293519089848?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108710293519089848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108710293519089848&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108710293519089848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108710293519089848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/06/ha-ha.html' title='ha. ha.'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108675223370586324</id><published>2004-06-08T23:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-08T23:37:13.706-04:00</updated><title type='text'>damn</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;hot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;it's really hot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so muggy, so hot. why so hot? i'm kinda agitated, on account of it being hot. i don't even know why i'm writing in this journal, i'm done with freshman year. time to start a new one? maybe. one things's for sure, it's hot. capital H-O-T hot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108675223370586324?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108675223370586324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108675223370586324&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108675223370586324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108675223370586324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/06/damn.html' title='damn'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108619840308528511</id><published>2004-06-02T13:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-02T13:46:43.086-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm In A Picture Taking Mood</title><content type='html'>one of the best pics my brother's taken. in my opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://img78.photobucket.com/albums/v238/jstealth07/916fc2bc.jpg WIDTH="400" HEIGHT="300"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108619840308528511?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108619840308528511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108619840308528511&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108619840308528511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108619840308528511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/06/im-in-picture-taking-mood.html' title='I&apos;m In A Picture Taking Mood'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108606006757056030</id><published>2004-05-31T23:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-31T23:21:07.570-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Worst BBQ Ever</title><content type='html'>so me and josh went over to kyle's today for what he proclaimed as a barbeque. turns out it was his parents' party, and we didn't get anything to eat. all we did was sit in his basement for an hour, play some ps2, and watch tv. wow. boring, just boring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, memorial day weekend has come and gone, and not too much has happened. i forgot to get a phone card today, so i haven't talked to liza in what feels like ages. needless to say, i miss her a lot. i need to get a card soon. i miss hearing her voice, as annoying as she may think it sounds. i love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh yeah, we got a 'new' car over the weekend, a &lt;a href="http://community.webshots.com/s/image11/6/12/71/148061271wbHAhK_fs.jpg"&gt;1997 Chrysler Sebring Coupe&lt;/a&gt;. For being seven years old, it's looking really good and has only 30000 miles on it. what a steal. i hope i can keep this one, but if not, dad will get it. as long as my greasy handed brother doesn't, i'm happy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;still working out 6 days a week, going on my third week now. i'm noticing some gains, nothing too much though, just a lot more toning, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. i'd like to get a little bit bigger, but it seems the only way to do that is to take supplements, which i'm not at all a fan of. i don't care if it's safe or not, i just see it as cheating myself, and i'm not about to do that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108606006757056030?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108606006757056030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108606006757056030&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108606006757056030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108606006757056030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/05/worst-bbq-ever.html' title='Worst BBQ Ever'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108578553043141842</id><published>2004-05-28T18:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-28T19:05:42.830-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Uh Oh or Uh Huh? (I don't even know anymore)</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;good&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;if it was cool~brian mcknight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so here i am, sitting at work while the stupid system backs up. it's probably about another 20 minutes away from finishing, and then i can actually leave, early for once. that means i can catch the first half of the pistons game, so i'm doubly excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, lately, my mom has been trying to find out about liza as much as she can. she knows that we like each other, most likely that i like her a lot. when she said we weren't going to be going to Andrew's first communion party, my heart dropped and i was in a bad mood for the next couple of days. but then i woke up this morning, and she said, "we'll go." simple as that i guess. now there's just gonna be more pressure. fantastic. i won't even be able to talk to liza without getting 'the eye' that all mothers are known for. scares the hell outta me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hadn't talked to liza in a couple days, last time being when she called me and told me she got the job at fairweather. she called last nite, but it was kinda bad timing seeing as how i was taking my contacts out and we had family friends from boston over. i'll call her tonite after the game, or maybe even at the half. hearing her voice last nite made me feel a lot better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i had a ridiculous amount of energy this morning, and i want more. i went to the summit with josh at 10, played basketball for an hour, then worked out with kyle for another hour or so. mostly upper body stuff, still hasn't hit me, maybe i'm getting used to it. i was supposed to get a ride from kyle to go pick up my dad's car at his friend's house, but forgot to leave with him and instead did situps. dammit. so i ended up running 2.5 miles to jeff's house, .5 miles more than i should have since i forgot where in the neighborhood his damn house was. oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and finally, we (i) got a new car yesterday, well new to me at least. it's a 1997 sebring coupe, really nice. strong 2.5L v6 on it too, i'm a fan. hopefully i get this car, but if not, then dad should get it. i feel bad for the guy, he's never really had a nice car his whole life. he bought the stratus new, then gave it to me for my 18th birthday, and bought the prism. now my brother has the stratus, i drive the prism to work, and dad carpools with jeff. i feel terrible. as long as my brother gets the prism, i'm good. that's how the chain of command works. in my opinion.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108578553043141842?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108578553043141842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108578553043141842&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108578553043141842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108578553043141842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/05/uh-oh-or-uh-huh-i-dont-even-know.html' title='Uh Oh or Uh Huh? (I don&apos;t even know anymore)'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108554626122479021</id><published>2004-05-25T23:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-26T00:37:41.223-04:00</updated><title type='text'>liza got a j-o-b</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;can't complain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;if it was cool~brian mcknight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's right, this is my journal and i'm writing about liza getting a job at fairweather, a canadian clothing store. of course, i'm ridiculously happy for her, since she'll finally be able to get out of the house and make some money. as long as we can keep talking, you're not gonna hear any complaints out of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she did say i was the first person she called with the good news today, so i was quite honored with that. sometimes i wonder whether her love for me is as strong as mine is for her (complete insecurity at times), but then she calls me first, or leaves an "i love you" on my voicemail, and that feeling just vanishes. i'm such a crazy sap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i bought another phone card yesterday, and i can honestly say i've spent at least $75 on phone cards. best 75 bucks i've ever spent. here's to a great rest of the week, a few more days closer to june 19, some good weather, and just enjoying the summer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108554626122479021?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108554626122479021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108554626122479021&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108554626122479021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108554626122479021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/05/liza-got-j-o-b.html' title='liza got a j-o-b'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108493796954988323</id><published>2004-05-18T23:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-18T23:39:29.550-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Strike 3?</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the count's 0-2 now, strike 2 was my mom finding out that liza's my princess. oopsies. really, i don't care, because it's all gonna come out sooner or later, better it happen in bits and pieces than all at once. honestly though, i'm a little scared of what strike 3 might be. hope i don't find out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108493796954988323?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108493796954988323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108493796954988323&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108493796954988323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108493796954988323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/05/strike-3.html' title='Strike 3?'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108481141185495881</id><published>2004-05-17T12:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-17T12:30:11.853-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What One Night Can Do</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;happy and sad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;lifehouse~take me away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday night i managed to fall in love with her all over again. as soon as she disappeared from my sight i started missing her. with every mile that passed driving away from toronto, i missed her more. all i listened to on the drive home was brian mcknight, since every song of his somehow tied to us. when we hugged, i felt complete, and i wanted to stay in that hug forever. i should stop talking, i'm such a hopeless romantic. just one more month until i see her again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108481141185495881?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108481141185495881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108481141185495881&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108481141185495881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108481141185495881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/05/what-one-night-can-do.html' title='What One Night Can Do'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108416183035897360</id><published>2004-05-10T00:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-10T00:03:50.356-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wow</title><content type='html'>I'm &lt;em&gt;so in love&lt;/em&gt; it's not even remotely funny. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108416183035897360?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108416183035897360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108416183035897360&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108416183035897360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108416183035897360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/05/wow.html' title='Wow'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108374237102167227</id><published>2004-05-05T03:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-05T03:36:02.700-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;happy/depressed/a little surprised&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;white ladder~david gray&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the day finally came, i am done with freshman year, provided i passed all my classes. knock on wood, dammit. anyway, i'm still up while will sleeps away, there's a bit too much on my mind right now. of course, a lot of it has to do with liza, but what else is new, right? it really kind of bothered me that she thinks she's not good enough for me. I wouldn't take her any other way, and her being the way she is is why i love her so much. a lot of the guys who have heard about liza have told me that there's no way i'm going to be able to stay committed to something "that might not even work out" 3 years from now. but i'm dedicated enough to her and to our relationship. i don't care what changes, liza will always hold a special place in my heart, and that will never change. I will never stop loving her, and i don't know how else to tell her that without actually coming out and saying it. i mean every word. if you told me i could never talk to liza again, i'd break down and cry to no end. and not like manly crying, i'm talking full out sobbing like a girl whose cat got run over. it's 3:30, and i'm gettin even more depressed just thinking about it. Good nite.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108374237102167227?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108374237102167227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108374237102167227&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108374237102167227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108374237102167227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/05/finally.html' title='Finally'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108353676218369008</id><published>2004-05-02T18:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-02T18:30:07.513-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ideally?</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;pensive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;automatic stop~the strokes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ideally, here's how I'd like the next 3-4 years to go:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Start with this summer- make a good amount of money, spend time with the guys, work out, try and get bigger, see if i can visit toronto at least once.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sophomore Year- get my gpa up, start focusing on what's really in front of me, still have fun&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Junior Year- either stay at state if grades don't improve, or transfer to UM Ann Arbor and their college of engineering. get an internship or some kind of job related to mechanical engineering.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Senior Year (2006-07)- after taking classes during summer, see if i have enough to graduate a semester early. if not, definitely finish in 4 years with honors.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;either start working immediately or take a little break and...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Go to montreal and see what has happened and what will happen.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In reality, here's how the next few years will more than likely go:&lt;br /&gt;I'll graduate from state with my BS in mechanical engineering, probably get a job at one of the auto companies, continue to wait for her and hope it all works out, and find out that it doesn't. Just a weird, eerie feeling i have, as much as i don't want that to happen. Not much i can do about it, i'll just have to find a way to deal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108353676218369008?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108353676218369008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108353676218369008&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108353676218369008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108353676218369008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/05/ideally.html' title='Ideally?'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108342521214175637</id><published>2004-05-01T11:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-01T11:30:00.123-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Liza likes Onions On Her Grilled Cheese</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;great/stressed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;its all understood~jack johnson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well this past week has been a busy one. actually, not really, just a lot of running around, a little studying, some basketball, and a lot of phone time with my princess. last night she called around 2, just as i got up from an accidental 3 minute nap, and we talked until 5. i'm working on about 5 hours of sleep now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;liza always says that we don't have to talk about anything, just knowing i'm on the other end of the line is all she needs. at first i didn't get it, because i'm a pretty social guy, so no talking is kinda hard to deal with. but now i know what she means- last nite there were more than a few long periods of silence, but it was the most comfortable i've felt in a long while. it would be an awkward silence if you didn't know the other person too well, but with us it's just different. if i could fall asleep with the phone next to me and wake up with her still on the other end, it'd be almost as good as actually waking up next to her. 2 more weeks until i see her. i don't know how i'm going to be able to keep myself from staring at her, but i'm going to have to find a casual way to act around her and the rest of the people. should be interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is my last weekend at state- i should be studying today and tomorrow, but i really can't bring myself to, and i don't know why. it's not like i have anything better to do, i just think i've been burned out and ready to start the summer for a while now.  too bad the summer means one class at the community college. on the plus side, i'll be hanging out with josh and andy, making a bit of money hopefully. not from them--ok bizarre, my aunt just called me and said i have a job for the summer at her office. what a strange coincidence. but anyways...regardless i am looking forward to the summer. 4 more days...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108342521214175637?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108342521214175637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108342521214175637&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108342521214175637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108342521214175637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/05/liza-likes-onions-on-her-grilled.html' title='Liza likes Onions On Her Grilled Cheese'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108274104471683296</id><published>2004-04-23T13:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-04-23T13:27:04.810-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;honestly? kinda sad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;ride~the vines&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, wednesday night i did the unthinkable, what i thought i would never be capable of doing. i told someone off, was brutally honest with them, and now i don't know how to feel. most of me felt really bad. i mean, really bad. i actually knelt down and prayed to God that i was still a good person, that doing what i did didn't warrant a trip to hell. i overreacted, maybe. doesn't change the fact that i hurt their feelings when they've never done anything to me. that's what makes it even worse. i don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;liza and i talked last nite, and part of the conversation was about hooking up with just a random person. it pretty much came down to the realization that i will never be able to just have a little fling with someone, be it just a kiss or spending the night. it's not me. i have no respect for the guys that do that kind of stuff, or the girls that let them. or vice versa for all it matters. also, the more i talk to liza, the more i realize i truly do love her, especially after the fact that josh said i should cut down on talking to her seeing as how we're just friends and shouldn't talk as much as we do. i now know that that's humanly impossible for me to do. i couldn't imagine telling liza to stop calling me so often. it'd be like telling...i'm at a loss for words. you know what i mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think i need to go play basketball now. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108274104471683296?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108274104471683296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108274104471683296&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108274104471683296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108274104471683296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/04/feelinghonestly-kinda-sad-songridethe.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108209937562157100</id><published>2004-04-16T03:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-04-16T03:12:28.436-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;tired as all hell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;she's all i got~jimmy cozier&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i was at the engineering building from 9:30 to 2:00 tonight. it sucked. i'm tired, my ankle is still swollen, and i'm stressed.  pretty much the only good thing that came out of it were a couple phone calls i got, one from liza and the other from michelle. liza wanted to talk for a while, but i was just too busy with the project to have a meaningful conversation with her, as much as i would've loved to. i thought i'd be done by 1130, but boy, was i wrong. hopefully i'll get to talk to her tomorrow. we don't even have to talk about anything meaningful, it's just amazing the feeling i get knowing she's on the other end of the line, just hearing her voice. i'm pathetic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;michelle called just to see if i was still stressed, if i was feeling better. i was feeling better, not by much, but better. it was nice of her to call, regardless of how inebriated she was. i did feel bad for acting differently towards her, even though josh didn't think i was, and he didn't think it was a big deal even if i was.  ok well i'm done, good nite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***DISCLAIMER***what is read here stays here. simple as that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108209937562157100?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108209937562157100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108209937562157100&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108209937562157100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108209937562157100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/04/feelingtired-as-all-hell-songshes-all.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-108204796194008997</id><published>2004-04-15T12:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-04-15T12:55:33.576-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;mad/depressed/bothered&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;losing my religion~R.E.M&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wow, one month later. quite a bit has happened, and i wish i could say it was for the better, but honestly, i really don't know. Liza got a new home calling plan that lets her make unlimited calls to North America, which means i get to talk to her more often. Always a plus. but at the same time, talking more often means having less to talk about, and lately i've just been in kind of a bad mood for more than a few reasons:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1)  not hearing "i love you" - stupid, maybe. i very well may be just a little girl, but hearing liza say those 3 little words, at any time, just makes my day, week, month, that much better. but lately it's been me just saying i love you, and her either saying something like "you don't mean it" or just ignoring it.  maybe it's just my stupid insecurities that make me feel like she's slipping through my fingers, and that i might lose her. if she had any idea how much she meant to me, how very very often i thought i about her, she would either be scared to talk to me again, or realize how important she is. lately, every nite we've ended our phone conversations it's just been a cordial "good night, talk to you soon." and then when i hang up the phone, i scream inside because i really wanted to say &lt;em&gt;"i love you. i love you with all my heart and i can't imagine life without you."&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) i rolled my ankle really bad yesterday playing football. and it just so happens that it's getting really nice outside, and i was going to be working out at the track for the next few days, and now i can't. it's swollen to more than the size of a golf ball. i need to get a brace. it really shouldn't put me in that bad a mood, but for some reason it has. i guess it's just the fact that it adds to everything else that has happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) the end of the semester is coming up, and i'm getting worried about what my gpa is going to be. I hate ISS 210 with a passion, it's a terrible class and even worse, the grade is based on 2 tests and a final, and i got a 74 on the first test, which translates to a 2.0. dammit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) this one doesn't have anything to do with me, but it still bothers me, and..well i guess it does have to do with me. kyle told andy the other day that he never thought of andy as a friend. i think it hurt me more than andy that he said that. what a bastard. and honestly, i'm debating whether or not i was ever a fan of kyle's.  he's said some pretty bad stuff about me, and he always seems to be bitter whenever me, josh, or andy encounter whatever little good fortune comes our way. if he was really a friend he'd be happy for us and not disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) oh, and i'm sick. i have a runny nose, cough, scratchy throat, and for some reason my face is breaking out in a couple spots again. stress? maybe. liza? probably.  Thank God it's only the most gorgeous outside it's been in a long while, and i fee like total shit now. just wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's all i can think of right now. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-108204796194008997?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/108204796194008997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=108204796194008997&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108204796194008997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/108204796194008997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/04/feelingmaddepressedbothered-songlosing.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107937379887779795</id><published>2004-03-15T13:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-15T14:39:59.200-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;i wish i knew&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;off the corner~sisqo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hmm, well i think this journal is just gonna be about me and liza now, and my regular boring old life will be at livejournal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i went out saturday and bought a 500 minute phone card, thinking that would be plenty for more than a few calls. wrong-o. i called liza last nite and it turns out i only get 166 minutes to canada. it's 5 cents/min better than calling from my cell and dealing with the bill there, so i guess it's alright. we talked for about 2 hours, just the regular stuff i guess. mainly we talked about relationships with other people- she asked me if i had met any other girls, and i said yes, but really only online through that stupid allmsu dating profile thing. she said she was alright with it, no reason she shouldn't be, we're not together anymore in the sense of the word. i asked her if she had met any other guys, and she said she didn't want to say. How the hell am i supposed to take that? I mean, immediately i get suspicious/worried that she's hiding something from me. she says she doesn't want to worry me, so she wouldn't tell me. if anything, that would worry me more and show me that she really doesn't think that much of me if she can't tell me the truth. that's how i take it. maybe it's just me. she finally said nothing's happened, but it makes me wonder why she didn't say that first and spare me all the grief&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yeah, i still think about her everyday. for a little while during february, i didn't think about her as much, but then it came back in march, when i realized what a good thing i had with her. i think the reason she doesn't worry/care about losing me is because she knows/thinks she can probably do better than some hopeless romantic/far away guy. the reason i worry is because i know that there are a lot of guys in montreal, probably with a lot more potential than me, and i don't like thinking of it like that, but i can't help it. &lt;em&gt;sometimes i feel confident, other times i feel completely lower than dirt.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hope something works out between the two of us, because right now i can't even hang out with another girl without thinking of her. there's too many things around to remind me: her pictures, the necklace, spike, the silly rabbit cereal bowl, the boxers, sarah mclachlan songs, "my immortal," the damn futon, the text messages that part of me just refuses to delete, the phone cards lying around the desk, countless other things. damn it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107937379887779795?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107937379887779795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107937379887779795&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107937379887779795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107937379887779795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/03/feelingi-wish-i-knew-songoff.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107720284420008079</id><published>2004-02-19T10:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-19T10:02:40.450-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>well josh came over and now we're watching donnie darko, but before we started it, i decided to check my email and saw that i got one from liza. and i'm sorry, but yes, this entry's going to be about liza. i wish i had something else to talk about, but i don't.&amp;nbsp; you know what? i changed my mind, i don't wanna write about this. i'm gonna sit down, and try to enjoy this movie. good night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107720284420008079?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107720284420008079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107720284420008079&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107720284420008079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107720284420008079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/well-josh-came-over-and-now-were.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107720282642130902</id><published>2004-02-19T10:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-19T10:02:22.670-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;P&gt;wow today was a great day- as far as the weather goes. It was sunny and warm, and best of all, there was hardly any wind. i went to classes with only a sweatshirt on, and it felt good not having to be weighed down by a winter coat.&lt;/P&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;i was working on some math, but i felt i deserved a break. i don't know why, so don't ask. after i came back from josh and casey's, i went to check the mail, hoping that i would have gotten the ncaa football game for ps2 that i bought on ebay like 3 weeks ago. I saw there was a yellow slip, so i got all excited. Finally, some college football goodness! But no, it was a package from &lt;FONT color=#ff0000&gt;liza&lt;/FONT&gt;, which was just as good, if not much better.&lt;/P&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;i opened the package in my room, and here's what i got:&lt;/P&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;UL&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;&lt;FONT color=#ff0000&gt;a charlie brown themed valentine card&lt;/FONT&gt;- very nice and brought a smile to my face.&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;&lt;FONT color=#ff0000&gt;a box of smarties candy&lt;/FONT&gt;- i don't know if they have them here, they're like canadian m&amp;amp;ms, even though they have those too.&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;&lt;FONT color=#ff0000&gt;a pair of boxers&lt;/FONT&gt;- nothing special you say? i tend to disagree. these boxers say &lt;STRONG&gt;&lt;FONT color=#ff0000&gt;"i'm marking my territory"&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/STRONG&gt; on them, complete with a giant set of..uh..lip prints? i'm at a loss for words. now, i haven't tried them on, but judging by the size of these boxers (large), i'm probably gonna have to wear a belt around them too...oh well, it's the thought that counts and i got a kick out of it.&lt;/LI&gt;&lt;/UL&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;&lt;FONT color=#ff0000&gt;liza's&lt;/FONT&gt; so creative like that, i kinda felt bad for what i got her. I made a mistake in not getting her a card, i just wrote her a note, but that was at a point when i was a bit angry since we hadn't talked for nearly 3 weeks. she called the next day, so i slapped myself in the face. i also got her the new britney spears cd (don't ask for the valentines tie-in, there isn't one, she just wanted it), and a heart shaped plush thingamajig with the words "I Love You" inscribed on it. Dammit, i really goofed this one up. Hopefully i'll have a chance to redeem myself, i really am a lot better than that.&lt;/P&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;well, back to math-maybe, i'll just end up going to sleep in 15 minutes. good nite.&lt;/P&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107720282642130902?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107720282642130902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107720282642130902&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107720282642130902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107720282642130902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/wow-today-was-great-day-as-far-as.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107720279809727651</id><published>2004-02-19T09:59:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-19T10:01:54.340-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>ok, when i said i was going to stay disciplined, i meant work-out wise. See, the thing about wearing earplugs to sleep is that you can't hear your alarm. Either that or i forgot to turn it on before i went to sleep last nite. at least it was only my ME lecture, i'll learn what happened in the lab today. At least i woke up in time to take my math quiz.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107720279809727651?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107720279809727651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107720279809727651&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107720279809727651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107720279809727651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/ok-when-i-said-i-was-going-to-stay.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107720277725096307</id><published>2004-02-19T09:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-19T10:01:33.496-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;P&gt;well, i &lt;EM&gt;got to &lt;/EM&gt;talk to liza tonight. that's right, i consider it a privilege to talk to her now, seeing as how it hardly ever happens anymore. I used to take for granted&amp;nbsp;the fact that we talked every night for hours, and i hate how i realize only now how much i miss it. we didn't talk about too much, and before i knew it, she was gone, to watch that gay ass show "the OC." it only makes me hate it even more.&lt;/P&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;this morning i decided to do something a little creative with the rubberband on my right wrist. I put the initials of the people who have an immediate impact on my life. Really, there's no need to put them here, if you know me you'll know who's on the band. in addition to liza's necklace, it's just another thing i'm going to wear everyday to remind myself of how lucky i am.&lt;/P&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;i was going to read for a little while, but it's almost time to work out, so i'll do that instead.&lt;/P&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107720277725096307?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107720277725096307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107720277725096307&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107720277725096307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107720277725096307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/well-i-got-to-talk-to-liza-tonight.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107720275579963982</id><published>2004-02-19T09:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-19T10:01:13.076-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;P&gt;alright, well i was looking at andrea's journal and got this idea from her to just open up winamp and list the first 20 songs that play. here goes.&lt;/P&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;OL&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;mad world~gary jules&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;my first love~avant&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;gold to me~ben harper&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;america the beautiful~ray charles&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;can i live~sisqo&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;duettino sull aria~mozart&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;running out of days~3 doors down&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;rest of my life~unwritten law&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;oh no~nate dogg&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;under the bridge~red hot chili peppers&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;girl next door~musiq&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;numb~linkin park&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;whatcha wanna do~silkk the shocker&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;heart of a woman~r. kelly&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;don't dream it's over~crowded house&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;pink &amp;amp; blue~andre 3000&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;beyond the gray sky~311&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;where do we go from here~filter&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;drag you down~finger eleven&lt;/LI&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;LI&gt;welcome to atlanta (remix)~jd&lt;/LI&gt;&lt;/OL&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;interesting i guess.&lt;/P&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107720275579963982?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107720275579963982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107720275579963982&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107720275579963982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107720275579963982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/alright-well-i-was-looking-at-andreas.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107720273179219537</id><published>2004-02-19T09:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-19T10:00:48.043-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;P&gt;got back from physics and i'm gettin ready to get a head start on this week's homework. last week i cut it way too close and didn't finish it until 20 minutes before we left for windsor.&lt;/P&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;oh yeah, now i remember. after drinking on friday night, i didn't really see what was so great about it. maybe it's because there weren't really any girls our age around there, but all i had to show for it was a little wobbly walk and feeling tired. oh well, i still had fun. i did feel a little guilty about drinking, mostly because i felt like i was letting myself down. i mean, for 19 years i didn't let alcohol touch my lips, not even wine (and don't even count the communion wine, that's just stupid). i prided myself on my willpower, and now what do i have to show for it? the fact that i gave up for a night of fun that i probably still would have had if i was sober. and then there's the fact that liza really liked that i didn't drink. hopefully this doesn't change what she thinks of me, because that would be the worst. and paul really liked that i didn't drink, and now that i have, i feel like i've ruined it all. &lt;STRONG&gt;then again, why can't i have some fun?&lt;/STRONG&gt; even though it wasn't all that great, shouldn't i be allowed to let loose once in a while? sometimes i think i'm too uptight, that i don't let myself fully enjoy the college life. but then i look at all these drunks surrounding me and realize i don't need to be that relaxed to enjoy college. ah well.&lt;/P&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107720273179219537?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107720273179219537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107720273179219537&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107720273179219537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107720273179219537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/got-back-from-physics-and-im-gettin.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107720251838715912</id><published>2004-02-19T09:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-19T09:57:14.670-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i know i said i was gettin a new journal, but i think i'm just going to copy and paste my entries here as well, just because the archiving is a lot easier here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107720251838715912?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107720251838715912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107720251838715912&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107720251838715912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107720251838715912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/i-know-i-said-i-was-gettin-new-journal.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107720269872445390</id><published>2004-02-16T11:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-19T10:00:14.983-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I managed to fall asleep only once in ISS today, and that was just for a few minutes- i hope. Between taking the notes that mean absolutely nothing to me, i decided to make up a schedule of how my day would go. I've realized that I waste way too much time, so hopefully this will help. I'm not anal retentive or some kind of organized bastard, I just don't want to waste so much damn time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, time for lunch. hope this week goes alright.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107720269872445390?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107720269872445390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107720269872445390&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107720269872445390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107720269872445390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/i-managed-to-fall-asleep-only-once-in.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107690949774844087</id><published>2004-02-16T00:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-16T00:33:30.293-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;quiet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;another love song~ queens of the stone age&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, i've decided to get a livejournal. that's right, so for all five of you that read this journal, start goin on over to the new &lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/jstealth07"&gt;F1rstyear&lt;/a&gt;. My new screenname is jstealth07. note the subtle but nonetheless important change in the last number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;see you there. maybe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107690949774844087?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107690949774844087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107690949774844087&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107690949774844087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107690949774844087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/feelingquiet-songanother-love-song.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107681983475613104</id><published>2004-02-14T23:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-14T23:39:06.076-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Capricorn&lt;/strong&gt;: tonight there is a sparkle in the stars that means you can romance that special valentine and achieve your wildest desires.&lt;/em&gt; yeah right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i text messaged liza this morning once we crossed the bridge back into detroit, just to say happy valentine's day. Surprisingly, she text messaged me back, so that made me pretty happy. i slept most of the day, then went to church, and decided to stay in for the night instead of hanging out with andy and kyle. i kinda felt bad, but i was still tired as all hell. i don't even know what i'm still doing up.  i'm too used to staying up late i guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my dad told my aunt anna that andy was looking for a job, but she said that if she gave it to andy i wouldn't be able to work there during the summer. I don't care if i work there or not, andy needs the money a lot more than i do. He's a hard worker (when he wants to be), and i have no doubt he'd do fine there. My mom suggested that andy try applying at the hospital since they need a lot of drivers, so i'm going to let him know about that. I'm done for now, we'll see what happens tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107681983475613104?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107681983475613104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107681983475613104&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107681983475613104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107681983475613104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/capricorn-tonight-there-is-sparkle-in.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107677726330661265</id><published>2004-02-14T11:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-14T11:49:33.983-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;tired&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;bright lights~matchbox 20&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, i'm working on 4 hours of sleep right now, but i wanted to talk about last night before i forget it all. to say the least, it was a lot of fun, and i'm glad we went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;before we crossed the border, we went to mexican town and had dinner, which was good. we went over the bridge, with no problems, and headed to the hotel. Mark went all out, which was amazing. We stayed at the Radisson, which was a really nice hotel overlooking the river. At first i thought it would be the four of us staying in one room, but Mark got two, one for me and josh, and the other for him and andy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We left for the casino like ten minutes later. Casino Windsor is really nice inside, i mean, it doesn't compare to vegas, but it's really nice. I exchanged $40 american for like $54 canadian, and proceeded to lose it all at the roulette table. I was up around 65 or so, but ended up losing. Whatever, shit happens i guess. Andy and Mark both made out pretty well, so that balanced out the money me and josh lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After hanging at the casino for a bit, we went over to cheetah's, one of the strip clubs there. It was both me and josh's first time in a strip club, so we didn't really know what to expect. But all i can say is that it was amazing. All of the girls there were really hot, and Mark even paid for our lap dances, which i thought was sweet. I only got one, and the weird thing is my dancer was from Montreal, and I told her about liza, and she said she had a long distance relationship with a guy in london, but it didn't work out. how the hell did i pick the one that was from Montreal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dance didn't do all that much for me, i mean, she was hot, no doubt about it, but all i could think about was liza. I went back to the table, had some more to drink (which Mark paid for too- he is definitely the man), and just sat and thought about how much i missed her-liza, not the dancer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it was the first time i drank too. over the course of the night, i had 3 labatts and a shot of what mark called a buttery nipple, which was just a butterscotch with liquor. It wasn't too bad at all. I didn't really feel a buzz until much later, when we were at Jasons, another strip club. I could tell because when i was walking to the bathroom i didn't take the straightest line possible. oh well, i didn't have a headache or anything, so it was good. I'm not going to drink anytime soon though, so that'll do for now i guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mark called it a nite around 1:30, so me josh and andy went back to the casino. I decided to go back to roulette, because i wanted to get my money back (stupid me), so i exchanged $30 and played for a couple hours. At one point i had $95 canadian, which is around 73 US, but i kept going and ended up with $55 CDN, around $42 american, so overall i ended up down $28 for the nite. I was ok with that, it wasn't as bad as losing the whole thing. unfortunately, josh did. he put in $80 american and lost it all, i felt terrible for him. just bad luck i guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;geez, i wrote more than i thought i would. i need to get some sleep now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107677726330661265?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107677726330661265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107677726330661265&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107677726330661265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107677726330661265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/feelingtired-songbright-lightsmatchbox.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107671142401302122</id><published>2004-02-13T17:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-13T17:32:14.263-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>home for a little bit, then it's off to windsor with andy and josh to celebrate andy's 19th. it should be a lot of fun. I think i'm going to try to call liza tomorrow and say happy valentines day, because come to think of it, i really do miss her, and i feel like we left the phone call on a pretty bad note. by feel i mean i know we left the phone call on a bad note. She is my everything, and nothing is going to change that. here's to a fun night in windsor and love tomorrow. Happy Valentine's Day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107671142401302122?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107671142401302122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107671142401302122&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107671142401302122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107671142401302122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/home-for-little-bit-then-its-off-to.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107656287069002720</id><published>2004-02-12T00:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-12T00:16:19.296-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;still pretty angry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;what you want~jaheim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok i'm still not done. this whole distance thing is hitting me &lt;b&gt;a lot&lt;/b&gt; harder than i thought it would, and i'm still coming to the realization that this isn't gonna be easy for the either of us.  i wish i could've asked liza a few questions, but it just didn't seem to be the right time to ask. i don't know when that time will come, but hopefully soon. she said she got my letter yesterday, but didn't say anything about it, she just left it there. i don't know what to think of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nothing has changed as far as my love for her- it's just hard seeing all these couples all over the damn campus sharing a kiss, or holding hands, and me realizing i won't be able to do that for a while, and i hate that realization. it hurts even more not knowing how she feels about the whole thing- she called me overly sensitive, which i guess i can agree with, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have to hide how she's feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i feel so drained, like i can't even bring a smile to my face anymore. i think i'm just going to go work on some physics or something. thank God i have an easy schedule for the rest of the week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107656287069002720?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107656287069002720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107656287069002720&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107656287069002720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107656287069002720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/feelingstill-pretty-angry-songwhat-you.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107655871503090089</id><published>2004-02-11T23:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-11T23:07:03.716-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;perturbed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;behind blue eyes~limp bizkit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, me and liza finally talked today. i was hanging out at josh and casey's when my cell phone rang, and it was her. we talked for close to an hour, but the whole mood of the conversation felt completely different from what it's normally been. once again, it's a part of that whole distancing thing. not once during the whole time did she say "i miss you," or "i love you." i mean, i didn't say it either, but it just didn't feel right, and i didn't want her to think that i was still as attached as much as i am.  everytime she said "justin," in that whispery voice she always uses, i kept expecting her to say "i miss you," but nothing came. It was always a comment about something else, like how she's trying to get a work visa to come to the states this summer, or what Dude (her dog) was doing at that moment. the conversation on the whole just seemed lackluster- my heart wasn't completely in it, and i'm scared to think about what that means. When she said bye, all she said was, "i don't have anything else to say, so i'm gonna go." all i could say was "bye," and then she hung up, but i didn't hear the click, so i held the phone to my ear, waiting for her to say, "justin, you didn't say you love me!" but nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;of course, just toward the end of the conversation, we were talking about india, and she mentioned how all her friends would like to go to india, and i said, "once they're there, they're not going to like it." maybe it was a stupid thing to say, seeing as how i've only been there with my family, but just the fact that she replied by saying "you're forgetting where you're coming from," or "you're just like all those other indian kids that don't care for their roots."  well, there's really nothing i can do about that. I tried hanging out with indians in high school, but they didn't care for me, probably cuz i am Catholic, as stupid a reason as that is. I'm sorry that i can't be like Liza, where i get to go to some stupid ass indian conference every summer. just because i don't hang around indians doesn't mean i'm proud of my heritage- i just haven't had as many opportunities as her to get involved with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;needless to say, i'm a little angry right now. i don't know what the hell is going on. and to top things off, kyle told us that the girl he was going to ask out tomorrow had a boyfriend. i felt terrible about it, because he seemed so depressed, like he was just giving up on even trying to talk to girls anymore. all i could do was throw out stupid cliches, and it made me feel even worse that i had nothing original to say. more than anything i hope he (and andy) do better in the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;andy said he cried for the first time in 3 years, which caught me totally off guard. No job, no money, no girl, no friends at home will do that to you. we're all going to hang out this saturday, even though we are going to windsor. hopefully kyle can hang out too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have nothing else to say. i feel like all my emotions are completely gone, and that i'm just devoid of any feeling. good night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107655871503090089?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107655871503090089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107655871503090089&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107655871503090089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107655871503090089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/feelingperturbed-songbehind-blue.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107647220276631805</id><published>2004-02-10T23:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-10T23:05:10.450-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;indifferent&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;the background~third eye blind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today came and went, nothing special. took my calc test, which i think was alright. i went to the post office to drop off liza's valentine's gift, and just walking there seemed really sobering, almost depressing. it was snowing, and there was this bitter cold wind, and i felt like doing nothing but lying down and just staring at the ceiling.  i can honestly say that the whole day went without me feeling quite like i normally do, and i really can't explain why. i mean, there's the obvious reason, but then there's all these little ones that i'll go over one day- or maybe i won't, i need to keep something to myself. i played some madden over at josh's, went to my design lab, had dinner with chris, went to physics, came back, watched the pistons lose another one, read some, and here i am now, listening to third eye blind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i was talking to josh earlier, but like i said, i don't feel the same as usual, so the convo was pretty pointless, save for his talking about how he had run-ins with two separate girls today. I'm happy for him, mostly for the fact that he's finally opened his eyes to the fact that girls are paying attention to him, and before he just shrugged them off or didn't think anything of it. hopefully he does something more positive with today's experiences. see how boring my life is? i just dedicated a paragraph to talking about josh's life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think i'm gonna read a little more, eat my fruit, drink some milk, and call it a night. i've been thinking way too much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107647220276631805?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107647220276631805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107647220276631805&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107647220276631805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107647220276631805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/feelingindifferent-songthe.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107637942096143290</id><published>2004-02-09T21:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-09T21:18:47.356-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;perplexed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;thanks a lot~third eye blind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after physics, i called josh to let him know i'd be stopping by so we could grab dinner. He told me that liza was signed on, so i said, "go ahead, talk to her if you want." he didn't, of course, which didn't matter to me. when i got to his place, i saw that she was still signed on, but i said forget it- if she wants to play hardball and not talk to me, not respond to my email, that's fine. I play hardball with the best of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;honestly, it does hurt a little bit that she didn't tell me that we weren't going to talk for a stretch of time (if that's even the reason, i have no idea), but if she wants to stay withdrawn, i can do it too. whatever, i need to study.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107637942096143290?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107637942096143290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107637942096143290&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107637942096143290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107637942096143290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/feelingperplexed-songthanks-lotthird.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-10763546969650930</id><published>2004-02-09T14:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-09T14:26:42.966-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>friday is one day closer, and that means one day closer until me, josh, and andy go to windsor for andy's 19th birthday. He's already declared that he's gonna get blasted, which i can only laugh at. I've thought about it, and i've decided that i'm going to drink too, but not til "my penis falls off," just to get a buzz. The only reason is because i'm doing it with 2 of my closest friends, and that's the only way i'd have it. If kyle was able to come, it would be that much better, but he's a young'un. poor kid. oh well, there'll be more times, i'm sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-10763546969650930?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/10763546969650930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=10763546969650930&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/10763546969650930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/10763546969650930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/friday-is-one-day-closer-and-that.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107629817764455832</id><published>2004-02-08T22:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-08T22:44:42.746-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>and now sarah mclachlan's on the grammys, like i need to say who that reminds me of. i just kept my headphones on and turned up the volume.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107629817764455832?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107629817764455832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107629817764455832&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107629817764455832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107629817764455832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/and-now-sarah-mclachlans-on-grammys.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107628524531511159</id><published>2004-02-08T19:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-08T19:09:10.763-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>[my name is]: Justin&lt;br /&gt;[in the morning i am]: sleeping or at class&lt;br /&gt;[all i need is]: to love and be loved&lt;br /&gt;[love is]: spending time with that someone and nothing else coming to mind&lt;br /&gt;[im afraid of]: being alone, drowning&lt;br /&gt;[i dream about]: the future&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-H A V E .Y O U. E V E R . .&lt;br /&gt;[pictured your crush naked?]: of course&lt;br /&gt;[actually seen your crush naked]: mmhmm&lt;br /&gt;[had sex]: nope&lt;br /&gt;[made love]: in time&lt;br /&gt;[been in love]: yes&lt;br /&gt;[lied]: sometimes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-W H I C H . I S . B E T T E R-&lt;br /&gt;[coke or pepsi]: neither&lt;br /&gt;[flowers or candy]: flowers&lt;br /&gt;[tall or short]: doesn't matter to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-W I T H .T H E. O P P O S I T E. S E X-&lt;br /&gt;[what do you notice first?]: smile&lt;br /&gt;[last person u slow danced with]: i don't remember&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-W H O-&lt;br /&gt;[makes you laugh the most?]: josh andy and kyle&lt;br /&gt;[makes you smile]: a lot of people&lt;br /&gt;[gives you a funny feeling when you see them]: my princess&lt;br /&gt;[do you have a crush on?]: My Princess&lt;br /&gt;[has a crush on you?]: geez, i sure hope my princess&lt;br /&gt;[easiest to talk to]: myself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-D O. Y O U .E V E R-&lt;br /&gt;[sit on the internet all day waiting for someone special to I.M. you?]: more than i should&lt;br /&gt;[save aol/aim conversations]: no- deadaim does it&lt;br /&gt;[wish you were a member of the opposite sex]: rarely&lt;br /&gt;[cried because of someone saying something to you]: yes, damn my emotions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-H A V E .Y O U .E V E R-&lt;br /&gt;[fallen for your best friend]: that's a bit sick&lt;br /&gt;[been rejected]: yeah&lt;br /&gt;[rejected someone]: once, and i felt terrible&lt;br /&gt;[used someone]: yes&lt;br /&gt;[been cheated on]: hope not&lt;br /&gt;[done something you regret]: who hasn't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-W H O .W A S .T H E .L A S T. P E R S O N-&lt;br /&gt;[you talked to on the phone]: josh&lt;br /&gt;[hugged]: mom (that's kinda sad)&lt;br /&gt;[you instant messaged]: josh&lt;br /&gt;[you laughed with]: josh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-D O .Y O U-&lt;br /&gt;[color your hair]: what am i, gay?&lt;br /&gt;[ever get off the damn computer]: i do have class&lt;br /&gt;[habla espanol]: un poquito&lt;br /&gt;[nihongo o hanashimasuka]: that's just gibberish&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-D O .Y O U / / A R E .Y O U-&lt;br /&gt;[smoke cigarettes]: nope&lt;br /&gt;[obsessive]: when it comes to some things&lt;br /&gt;[could you live without the computer?]: what a stupid question&lt;br /&gt;[how many peeps are on your buddylist?]: 19&lt;br /&gt;[what's your favorite food?]: mostaciolli&lt;br /&gt;[whats your favorite fruit?]: bananas (don't even make a dick sucking joke)&lt;br /&gt;[drink alcohol?]: no&lt;br /&gt;[like watching sunrises or sunset]: sunsets, cuz i'm usually awake for those&lt;br /&gt;[what hurts the most? physical pain or emotional pain?]: without a doubt, emotional&lt;br /&gt;[trust others way too easily?]: yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-N U M B E R-&lt;br /&gt;[of times i have had my heart broken?]: 2&lt;br /&gt;[of hearts i have broken?]: most likely none&lt;br /&gt;[of girls i have kissed?]: 2&lt;br /&gt;[of boys i have kissed?]: none&lt;br /&gt;[of continents i have lived in?]: 1&lt;br /&gt;[of drugs taken illegally?]: 0&lt;br /&gt;[of tight friends?]: 3&lt;br /&gt;[of cd's that i own?]: 20&lt;br /&gt;[of scars on my body?]: 3&lt;br /&gt;[of things in my past that i regret?]: 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107628524531511159?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107628524531511159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107628524531511159&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107628524531511159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107628524531511159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/my-name-is-justin-in-morning-i-am.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107628449015362852</id><published>2004-02-08T14:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-08T19:09:54.546-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;gloomy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;mad world~gary jules&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well another weekend, more good times and some bad times to talk about i guess.  Saturday evening the family went out for dinner with my cousins for my parents and uncle and aunt's anniversary, so that was nice. i was feeling really tired, but at the same time, i was looking forward to hanging out with kyle, josh, and andy. We didn't get back home til around 9:30, so i just left the house immediately and headed over to Grant's house, where they were playing poker at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few new guys were there, but they were all cool for the most part, with the exception of brandon, the guy who pretty much gave kyle his dui. he just seemed like a punk i guess, but nick and grant are good guys as far as i can tell. And, for the first time in a while, i didn't think about liza, which worries me a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she still hasn't emailed me back, and with every passing day i get a little more anxious. i know some people might say, "whatever, don't think about it, just keep going." but when you make a commitment as deep as the one i've made to liza, it's not that easy to just forget about it.  i mean, as long as i can keep myself semi-occupied, i don't think about it too much, but i could be reading or doing math and then just wonder what liza's doing at that moment.  and once i think about that, the ball just keeps rolling, and it's hard to stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hate the fact that i get so ridiculously attached to the people that matter the most to me. I know they need space, but i need them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107628449015362852?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107628449015362852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107628449015362852&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107628449015362852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107628449015362852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/feelinggloomy-songmad-worldgary-jules.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107613019910266505</id><published>2004-02-07T00:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-07T00:05:02.780-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;missing her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;poparatzi~musiq soulchild&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this song just came up in winamp, and it said how i felt:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Picture me&lt;br /&gt;Down and out, lost without you&lt;br /&gt;Picture me&lt;br /&gt;Broken hearted&lt;br /&gt;And so lost and lonely&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107613019910266505?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107613019910266505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107613019910266505&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107613019910266505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107613019910266505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/feelingmissing-her-songpoparatzimusiq.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107612882419470148</id><published>2004-02-06T23:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-06T23:42:07.340-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;elation and anger&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;what you are~audioslave&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it took me all 12 of my tries to get the last physics problem right, but i got it. Physics can suck my brown dick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107612882419470148?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107612882419470148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107612882419470148&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107612882419470148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107612882419470148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/feelingelation-and-anger-songwhat-you.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107612802991455327</id><published>2004-02-06T23:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-06T23:28:53.233-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;unsure&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;away from the sun~3 doors down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;home for the weekend, and it's a good thing. i was getting tired of doin the same ol at state, which was mostly putting up with drunks and realizing how sad my life has become. at least now i get realize how sad my life is and hang out with my only true friends, so i guess that's a plus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everyday now i've been seeing fuckin jason master and his girlfriend in the damn cafeteria, and it always seems like he's rubbing the fact that he has a gf in my face. plus, i'm probably jealous that he can kiss her before he goes off to class, whereas i have to dream about kissing liza. i hate to say it, but i'm slowly starting to forget her, and i don't want to. i kiss her picture at least 5 days out of the week, but that doesn't do me justice. i really don't know how she's coping with all this, but if i could guess, i'd say just fine. i emailed her earlier this week and still haven't gotten a reply. now, she could be busy, and i guess i worry a bit too much, but sometimes i just need a little reassurance, be it a little text message or a small email just saying hi back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i saw a commercial for the sarah mclachlan afterglow tour, which is coming to the Palace, and i thought about liza for the next 4 hours. what the hell is wrong with me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107612802991455327?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107612802991455327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107612802991455327&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107612802991455327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107612802991455327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/feelingunsure-songaway-from-sun3-doors.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107604900400850687</id><published>2004-02-06T01:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-06T01:31:46.373-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;a little lonely&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;i can't wait~sleepy brown f/ outkast&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today was like any other thursday. i went to my ME lab, finished the project, then went over to josh's, had dinner, and went to physics. The only different thing is that I'm starting to feel like me and Liza are drifting apart, mostly because we haven't talked as much. every night i'm online, and every night i find myself glancing at the screen every 15 seconds to see if she's signed on. oh yeah, that's right, i shouldn't have to because i have an alert for when she signs on. yet i still find myself sneaking sideways glances at the screen. i hate this feeling i have that we're drifting apart, and worst of all, there's really nothing i can do about it. we said we'd distance ourselves a bit, but i didn't realize it would hit me this hard. i don't know how i'm going to make til at least june, when i see her again. it seems so damn far away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on a better note, i'm going home this weekend to celebrate my parents' 21st anniversary on friday night, then to hang out with andy and kyle on saturday night. I miss hanging out with them because, aside from josh, they're the only other 2 people i consider real, actual friends. it's 130 now, and i am in no mood to sleep, even though i do have a 10am class tomorrow and amy might be stopping by before then. whatever, i can deal. good night all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107604900400850687?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107604900400850687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107604900400850687&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107604900400850687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107604900400850687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/feelinga-little-lonely-songi-cant.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107587357855007876</id><published>2004-02-04T00:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-04T00:47:58.653-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;energetic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;down bottom~ruff ryders&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, i set a goal for myself to go to bed by 1230 so i could be asleep by 1. i want to stay awake in ISS tomorrow morning, because we have a test coming up. i don't know exactly when, but it's gotta be coming up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today was supposed to be a pretty bad day class wise, but it actually wasn't that bad. Alright, so i fell asleep in my ME 180 lecture. But it was so boring, and as i later learned in the lab, i shouldn't even have gone. the calc quiz was, for the third time in a row, really easy. the test is next tuesday, but i'm not too worried about it. yesterday i signed up to take the makeup physics exam at 6pm since i had my ME lab from 3-5, and the test started at 4:30. i ended up finishing the lab at 4, so i just went over to the physics building and studied for close to the 2 hours before the test. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The test ended up not being so bad, with the exception of one problem, but i'll take it. i hung out at josh's after for a little bit and had dinner, then came back to the room and played madden to wind down from studying all day. i deserved it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though i talked to liza on saturday (online), it still feels like i've gone much longer than three days. I'm trying not to think about her as much, but then i think about not trying to think about her, and it makes me think about her more. and the last thing i want to do is keep talking about her, because i'm sure the people around me are getting tired of hearing about her, and it does nothing to help my mind either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i need some sleep. peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107587357855007876?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107587357855007876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107587357855007876&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107587357855007876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107587357855007876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/feelingenergetic-songdown-bottomruff.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107575359532006719</id><published>2004-02-02T15:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-02T15:29:27.123-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;stupid&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;baker street~foo fighters&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and josh emailed Rick to see if we could work at the church this summer, even though we knew it would be a longshot. we finally got an email back today, and the answer was no. it's terrible because that was a great job, we had so much fun there. now i'm not sure what i'm going to do for a summer job. Dad said he was going to try to get one for me at Chrysler, but i don't think i'd like dealing with driving 2 hours roundtrip, even though it would be cool saying i work at chrysler HQ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;plus, it would be great getting a job working with josh or kyle or andy, or better yet, all of them. But then, that wouldn't be a job, that would be hanging out. wouldn't that be amazing? hopefully this summer will be fun and profitable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107575359532006719?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107575359532006719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107575359532006719&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107575359532006719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107575359532006719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/feelingstupid-songbaker-streetfoo.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107570316796579802</id><published>2004-02-02T01:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-02T01:27:46.373-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;depressed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;4 white stallions~counting crows&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;even though it was superbowl sunday, the day was pretty uneventful. i watched most of the game by myself, well, will was in the room but doesn't seem to have any interest in sports whatsoever. so that kinda sucks most of the fun out of the game right there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this week is going to suck, but every week does. Not all my classes are bad, it's just the one ISS class, the one that's from 8-10 every monday and wednesday morning. it's terribly terribly boring, and i can't even stay awake at that hour. Math is alright, thanks to Professor Tupan, whose animated movements make it easy to pay attention. He's better than last semester at least. Physics sucks cuz it's in the evening, and i miss out on having dinner with, with, myself i guess, for the most part. a couple times a week i'll go over to holden and eat with josh, but sometimes i don't even feel like it, just because it's more movement, and i just use that time to worry about what's coming up the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i tried studying for physics after the game, but ended up thinking about liza for a half hour. it's hard for me not to think about her, and i don't know how i'm going to be able to stop long enough to focus for more than an hour. earlier today, while me and josh were going to lunch, i saw Erin van Dusen, this girl from our high school. I guess you could say we were friends, we were in one class together. Apparently she goes to state, but i had never seen her around before. she came up to me with an arm outstretched, like she was going to give me a low five or something, but it became a hug, which felt weird to say the least. I mean, it was nice seeing her and all, because she was really nice in high school (and still is), but all i could think about is how i wished i were hugging Liza instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then Michelle decided to talk to me online today, which caught me off guard. the only other time she had ever im'ed me was when she was drunk, so it was a bit strange getting a message from her. I had her deleted from my buddy list cuz i never talked to her. we just talked about chemistry, and how her first test is tomorrow, so i just wished her luck and told her she'd do fine. she replied by saying that i was "calming." sometimes i wonder if i am a little too laid back, and if that's the reason i don't do as well as i obviously can. it's just that there is no immediate motivation for me, nothing to make me want to excel above and beyond everyone. And for the most part, i've come to realize that &lt;em&gt;most&lt;/em&gt; of the people that go to school here are drunks and asses who don't seem to take school seriously at all. i did say most, there are quite a few people who party and still manage to get good grades, and i respect that. i'm just rambling now. good nite.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107570316796579802?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107570316796579802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107570316796579802&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107570316796579802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107570316796579802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/02/feelingdepressed-song4-white.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107558049166217917</id><published>2004-01-31T15:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-31T15:23:08.700-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;cold (prolly cuz my window's open)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;my immortal~evanesence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;alright i'm on a ten minute break right now, because today is my study day. i just finished an hour of reviewing physics for the test on tuesday. next up is reading about influence and cults for my ISS 210 class, which shouldn't be too bad i guess. I thought there was going to be a test on Monday, but i guess i was wrong, so that's good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me and josh went in together on a ps2, so we spent some of last nite playing Madden 2004. It felt good to finally have a system we could call our own. Of course, we did put down $75 each, so it's a bit of a hit to the wallet. It'll be worth it. It damn well better be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking forward to going home next weekend, not only because of my parent's anniversary on friday, but because it means we'll be able to hang out with andy and kyle. we're probably going to go to damon's and watch the pistons game, so that'll be cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;alright well back to the studying now, i'll update later. peac.e&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107558049166217917?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107558049166217917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107558049166217917&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107558049166217917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107558049166217917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/feelingcold-prolly-cuz-my-windows-open.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107533991853560053</id><published>2004-01-28T20:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-28T20:33:32.686-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt; funny&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt; one mic~nas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;will's sleeping right now, which is a little weird, to say the least. usually he doesn't sleep til the clock reads a.m., so i think this is a sign for quiet time and that i'm supposed to do some homework. maybe i will. after the pistons game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today was a decent day as far as classes go. I've now determined it's impossible for me to stay awake for 2 hours for my 8am ISS class. I was falling asleep during the first hour, then washed my face during the 5 minute break and struggled to keep my eyes open for the next hour. math was different, i actually stayed awake, but bored. i got another 4.0 on my quiz, which was nice. i guess, i don't even care anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;had dinner with the andreas and michelle today after physics. it was the first time i had seen the three of them together since last semester, so it was cool. dinner conversation with them is always interesting, to say the least. the combination of those three always manage to bring a smile to my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, it's 8:30 and i'm talkin to kyle and josh, and for the most part, things couldn't be any better for me. with the exception of a couple things, but they're beyond my control.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107533991853560053?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107533991853560053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107533991853560053&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107533991853560053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107533991853560053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/feeling-funny-song-one-micnas-wills.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107526457581373814</id><published>2004-01-27T23:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-27T23:37:49.013-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;lazy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;for the rest of my life~brian mcknight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yeah maybe i didn't mention it, or maybe it's your fault, i don't know. the important thing is that we don't point fingers. When it says "nothingness" at the bottom, that means i'm not getting any feedback. feedback is a good thing. don't be shy. tell me what's on your mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, it snowed about 3 million inches today, give or take about 2,999,993 inches. it got so out of hand that i was beginning to debate whether i should even go to class. well i went, but was about 20 minutes late for my ME class. Once again, let's not point fingers at whose fault it could be. now it's ridiculously windy, so that means drifts. the snow is already up to my friggin knees, i don't like it. i very well may skip ISS tomorrow morning, depending on how i feel. now amy's calling me, so i better talk to her for a little bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wow that took a little while, prolly close to 30 minutes. I like talking to her because she's a good listener and always has some good stories to tell, whereas I have nothing. Of course, i'd take talking to liza over amy anyday, but given the current situation, amy's good to talk to. Now don't get me wrong, i'm not using her as a sounding board or somethin- it's just nice talking to a girl other than andrea about stuff going on in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, well, i wanted to read a little bit before i went to sleep, so maybe i'll do that. prolly not. good nite.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107526457581373814?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107526457581373814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107526457581373814&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107526457581373814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107526457581373814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/feelinglazy-songfor-rest-of-my.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107513655567701614</id><published>2004-01-26T12:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-26T12:04:07.873-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;dreary&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;sail away~david gray&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the weekend was uneventful, just went home and hung out with andy and josh saturday night. we ended up playing NCAA gameday for more than a few hours. i'll be going back in a couple weeks for mom and dad's 21st anniversary. I'm planning on setting up a nice dinner for them at a good restaurant, none of that La Shish or buffet crap we always go to. i hate that. they deserve more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;liza called me last nite, and after nearly a week of not hearing her voice, it was welcomed. Early on in the week, i thought i would be able to go without talking to her, but then i got her gift to me and it changed everything. All of the sudden i wanted to talk to her and tell her how much i loved her, how much i appreciated the gift. But, i better get used to the fact that we aren't going to be talking as often. It's for the better, for the both of us and her phone bill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we're supposed to get 4-7 inches of snow tomorrow, and i just so happen to have 4 classes tomorrow. It's great. No it isn't. I hate it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107513655567701614?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107513655567701614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107513655567701614&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107513655567701614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107513655567701614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/feelingdreary-songsail-awaydavid-gray.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107491808514016062</id><published>2004-01-23T23:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-23T23:22:54.653-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;hate for physics&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;in hate there is silence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hate physics with a passion-granted, i waited til almost the last second to do my online problems, but the fact that one problem was so ridiculously hard i used all 12 of my chances is stupid. plus, i think i'm in a pretty bad mood since coming home and realizing theres nothing to do. at least at state i could've done whatever whenever. oh well, tomorrow we're gonna hang out, so it'll be a bit better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not talking to liza for most of this week has been traumatizing, if anything. i miss talking to her- to be honest, i took it for granted when she called, because it was so often and i didn't realize how hard it was without her. i would give anything just to hear her voice again, or even get an email or something from her. going through withdrawal from the girl you love is like never seeing the sun again, just being bathed in eternal darkness. it hurts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and to make matters worse, the necklace broke again. the damn string itself is so weak, it broke in completely different spot from the first time. i need to fix it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107491808514016062?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107491808514016062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107491808514016062&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107491808514016062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107491808514016062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/feelinghate-for-physics-songin-hate.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107479433904072561</id><published>2004-01-22T12:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-22T13:00:26.513-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;mixed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;this year's love~david gray&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i keep sitting down to work on my math homework, but i keep forgetting to do something online- this is one of them. we're now on day 2 of not having talked to liza, and while i am starting to grow used to it, it's still very different and i still find myself thinking about her all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but here's the thing i needed to mention. when i had my atl class last semester, there was this girl named Elissa. she was different from all the other girls, like she was a free spirit, always had a smile on her face, didn't care what other people thought, and she was pretty smart. anyway, just messing around one day, i decided to email her and said "hey." that's it, just "hey." well she didn't respond until like a couple weeks ago (she doesn't have a computer at home, even a cell phone), and since then we've exchanged a couple funny emails:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the first time she emailed me: &lt;em&gt;"hey"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i replied &lt;em&gt;"good lord, it took you long enough. talk to ya in july i guess"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she says &lt;em&gt;"how bout august? im booked through july"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i say &lt;em&gt;"dammit, why do you have to be so damn popular?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and finally, her last email, which damn near made me piss my pants:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"silly rabbit if only u knew"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY? Liza calls me silly rabbit! Elissa decides to call me silly rabbit as well? what a freakin weird coincidence! not to mention the incredible similarities between their names, and the more i think about it, the more i realize they have a lot of common characteristics. well, i'm gonna go lie down and hope this goes away, because it's weirding me out a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh wait, i can't, i have that math homework. damn.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107479433904072561?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107479433904072561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107479433904072561&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107479433904072561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107479433904072561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/feelingmixed-songthis-years-lovedavid.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107474830593060264</id><published>2004-01-22T00:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-22T00:13:13.513-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;indifferent&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;precious~jamie foxx&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kind of a busy day today- wait, not really. I had my ISS class in the morning followed by math, so that was 3 hours of pretty boring stuff. I was falling asleep in ISS again, so i think i'm gonna have to go to bed earlier than the 1am i did tuesday nite. on the bright side, i got a 4.0 on my calc quiz (easy stuff, just vectors), so hopefully i can keep that up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the rest of the afternoon i spent in the room, just relaxing and reading my new book. I got through about 10 pages before i fell asleep. I woke up around 3:30 and did some homework, and then amy called me and asked if i wanted to go grab some dinner at applebee's with her and her friend bethany around 7:30. I didn't really feel like going out after my physics class, but i realized that i had stood her up quite a few times, so i said, sure, why the hell not? i went to physics, managed to stay awake, went over to josh's, and amy picked us up from there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the drive to applebee's was a bit awkward, seeing as how there were five of us crammed in this crappy crappy chevy(?), and i didn't really know bethany or joe, the guy she brought along. He actually lives on the second floor of bailey, but i'd never seen him around before that. He's actually a decent guy, i guess. the drive there was, to say the least, very weird. bethany and amy are pretty normal i guess when it comes to two friends acting really funny like- me and josh do it all the time. bethany isn't the greatest driver, there were more than a few occasions where i thought we were gonna crash. after about 45 minutes of trying to find the damn applebee's, we finally got there, hungry as all hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we sat in the smoking section, which wasn't a big fan of, but we were the only people in that section, so it wasn't that bad. i hate the smell of cigarette smoke more than anything, it's disgusting. dinner was pretty uneventful, it actually wasn't too bad in my opinion. everyone seemed to get along prety well, which was nice. i thought about liza more than once during dinner, wishing she were there, wishing we could take our time eating our food (like wendy's), just talking. whatever, i need to take my mind off of her, even though it's damn near impossible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on the drive back, and i don't know how it started, bethany and joe started telling racist jokes, which were all in good fun, and i didn't mind. but the more jokes they told, the more i started to believe they were serious, which kinda freaked me out. Bethany said, "i know a bunch of sand n***** jokes." alright, that was hittin a bit close to home, so thank god we were right at holden. we got out of the car and couldn't even begin to formulate sentences for what we went through. oh well, it was better than dinner in the cafeteria, that's for sure. would i do it again? yeah, probably, it's not like i had a terrible time. it was just different from the usual. i'm done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107474830593060264?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107474830593060264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107474830593060264&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107474830593060264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107474830593060264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/feelingindifferent-songpreciousjamie.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107466269317011492</id><published>2004-01-21T00:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-21T00:26:19.590-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;loved&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;slow jamz~twista&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this would've been done a half hour earlier, but i got caught up in an R&amp;B mood and decided to listen to a lot of brian mcknight, musiq, and 112. but anyway, today was a crazy day, as far as things related to liza go. i woke up in the morning and got ready to go to my ME class, and once i put my fleece on over my sweatshirt, i felt a bunch of little things fall down my shirt and onto the ground. at first i had no idea what they were, and then, holding back a scream, i realized it was liza's necklace that fell apart. YIKES! so i spent another 5 minutes finding all the beads and put them on my desk, to be repaired when i got back from class. My neck, not to say my entire being, felt strange without the necklace. once i got back from math, i put the beads back on the string, and then tied a really strong knot- and to add a little more security, i added a little bead of glue to make sure the threads hold. it better not fall apart on me again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after i got back from josh's, i checked the mail and saw that liza's package had finally arrived. I took it up to the room and opened it, first the gift. It was a book entitled &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0156027321/qid=1074662084//ref=sr_8_xs_ap_i0_xgl14/002-9230726-7052838?v=glance&amp;s=books&amp;n=507846"&gt;Life Of Pi&lt;/a&gt;. I wanted to start it tonight, but didn't have the chance, since i have an early class tomorrow and now realize that 5 hours of sleep isn't going to cut it. Just from reading the back, i could tell it was going to be an interesting story.  The card liza got me was beautiful, and i'll put it on display right on my desk, and most likely read it every night. yeah right, it'll be more like every time i'm sitting at the desk. I love how she spelled "rabbit" wrong (2 b's, princess), and just her handwriting, it means a lot to me that she took the time to get me a gift and send a card. I can only hope that soon enough we'll be able to celebrate our birthdays wrapped in each others' arms instead of being 500 miles apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;slow jamz has become my favorite song, quite possibly for the week. it has a great beat, lyrics are amazing, and the vocals are great too. Jamie Foxx has an incredible voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;said she wants some marvin gaye&lt;br /&gt;some luther vandross&lt;br /&gt;a little anita&lt;br /&gt;will definitely set this party off right&lt;br /&gt;she said she wants some ready for the world&lt;br /&gt;some new edition&lt;br /&gt;some minnie riperton&lt;br /&gt;will definitely set this party off right&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107466269317011492?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107466269317011492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107466269317011492&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107466269317011492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107466269317011492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/feelingloved-songslow-jamztwista-this.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107462336503218704</id><published>2004-01-20T13:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-20T13:30:51.060-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;in disbelief&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;push~matchbox twenty&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so i was gonna head over to josh's yesterday for the pistons game, so i wanted to see if kyle could give me ride. after all, that's what friends do, isn't it? give their friends a ride when they need one, instead of walking in the freezing cold? and what was his excuse? "i was feeling lazy." what a bastard. how many times have me and josh and andy gone out of our way to pick him up? i was gonna get ready to walk over there, but then amy called me and wanted to hang out, but i told her i was going to josh's, so she offered to give me a ride over there, even though it was completely out of her way. now she's a great friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i came back to my room around 7, and just relaxed and read physics. then around 10 i went to the study lounge and worked on math for a little while, then grabbed my influence book and read that for a little while. i came back up to the room around 1130, and saw that liza was online. i really wanted to talk to her, but then i thought of the whole distancing thing and told myself no. it was hard, but i managed not to. all day i had been checking my buddy list to see if she was online, checking my phone to see if she text messaged me. it's hard trying not to think about her, but hopefully during the next couple months i'll be able to go from thinking about her every second to thinking about her every few minutes. baby steps, justin. baby steps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i still have my design lab from 3-5 today and then physics from 6-7, so i'm gonna go take a 30 minute nap. that oughta do it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107462336503218704?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107462336503218704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107462336503218704&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107462336503218704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107462336503218704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/feelingin-disbelief-songpushmatchbox.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107449667274345145</id><published>2004-01-19T02:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-19T02:19:17.373-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feeling:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;awake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;dontchange~Musiq Soulchild&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, i'm sittin here by myself, after a long couple of days. i spent saturday nite over at josh's after the pistons game, and then we just chilled all of sunday, watching the conference championships. andy and kyle came over around 7, and we had pizzas and just hung out for a while, but i knew everyone was gonna wanna drink, which was alright with me. i've gotten used to the fact, and so have they, so i guess it's a win-win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it was nice seein them and hangin out, but once it turned to drinking, i got bored pretty fast. i just sat there, wondering what would happen if they ended up going to a party. I mean, i thought i'd be able to deal with the fact that they go to parties-hell, i'd just tag along and try to have fun, but i've realized it's almost impossible for me to go to those kinds of parties, where absolutely everyone is drinking. so i came back to my room around 1am, almost 30 hours since i had left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one nice thing was that liza called me while i was over at josh's. god, it's so comforting to hear her voice- i know i don't say much, but it's just nice knowing that she's on the other end, that we're connected. we talked for more than an hour, just about the usual, but it made me feel a lot better nonetheless. however, we did talk about how we're still supposed to be in that friends stage, and that if anything, we've grown a lot closer since christmas. so, unfortunately, but understandably, we're not going to be talking as much. i think it's better that we do this, because, as she put it, we're still gonna be apart for the next 3 years (at least), and it'll make being separated a lot easier to cope with if we don't talk all the time. makes sense to me. it's gonna be hard, because i will always have her on my mind, but hopefully i'll be able to cope with it and "move on."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, part of the lyrics from Musiq's "dontchange." good nite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I was meant for you and you was meant for me yeah&lt;br /&gt;And I'll make sure that I'll be everything you need&lt;br /&gt;Girl the way we are is how its gonna be&lt;br /&gt;Just as long as your love don't change&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107449667274345145?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107449667274345145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107449667274345145&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107449667274345145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107449667274345145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/feelingawake-songdontchangemusiq.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107432238397744183</id><published>2004-01-17T13:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-17T13:11:53.530-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;energetic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;Toxic~Britney Spears&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well i would've typed this last nite, but i was just so ridiculously tired and saying all sorts of random stuff, it wouldn't have been good. i'll start at 10am yesterday. i was waiting at the bus stop to go to math, and that's when i got the first text message. i responded to her, but the last thing i wanted to do was talk to her. part of me felt like she had betrayed my trust, told her mom and sister something that i had told her in confidence. i went to math class, where i was unusually quiet and subdued. after class i went over to josh and casey's, and we just hung out there, had breakfast/lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;liza called me and we talked for a little while, and it made me feel a lot better. she explained how she was reading the log about my mom saying everything, and her sister was in the room and read it too- then she and her mom got into a fight and she made liza tell her mom about it. i couldn't believe it. she kept telling me not to feel bad, but i still feel terrible for knowing that i made her mom cry because of some stupid statements from my mom. i still felt pretty depressed after i got off the phone with her, but not as bad as before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;liza text messaged me later in the evening and said, "i love you to the power of infinity." there's no way i can beat that, but i can match it. she called me while she was on the way home and we talked for a little while more, and i felt a lot better then, almost back to normal i guess. she is a special girl, there is no denying that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107432238397744183?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107432238397744183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107432238397744183&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107432238397744183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107432238397744183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/moodenergetic-songtoxicbritney-spears.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107426172772948322</id><published>2004-01-16T09:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-22T13:03:23.780-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;worried&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;silence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i cried in the shower this morning. i had to have been in there for like 20 minutes. just the thought of what had happened last nite brought tears to my eyes. and then i let down my defense and just cried like a little kid who bumped his knee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hate this feeling, and there's nothing i can do to change it. something has to be done. this whole situation does nothing but complicate the future liza and i could have together. and now i'm not even sure she wants that. that makes me want to cry just saying that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i didn't fall asleep until around 3 at least, and even then i spent the rest of the nite tossing and turning. i was never comfortable. i had a dream where i was sitting on a couch, and there was a girl sitting in my lap, and i had my arms around her stomach. it wasn't liza, because she was flabby in the stomach. i woke up in a cold sweat after that and spent another hour just worrying, thinking, "if this doesn't work out, i don't think i'm going to be able to make it through this semester."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i woke up 45 minutes earlier than i was supposed to. i went to brush my teeth, and just stared in the mirror at the necklace. a thought actually went through my head telling me to take it off. i just shuddered at that, this necklace has become a part of me. i wore it in the shower because i was fearful that if i took it off for those ten minutes, that would be when i'd lose her, that would be when i'd go back to my room and there'd be a voicemail saying "we're done." i can't deal with that, liza, and her family, have become too important to me. she said that she wasn't good enough for me. i'm definitely nothing to write home about, and her saying that makes me feel insecure about her feelings toward me. it's bad enough i said "i love you" like a gazillion times yesterday and i got absolutely nothing in return, but now i have to deal with insecurity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thank God i have just one class today. i don't feel like doing anything ever again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107426172772948322?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107426172772948322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107426172772948322&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107426172772948322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107426172772948322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/moodworried-songsilence-i-cried-in.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107423264658008984</id><published>2004-01-16T00:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-16T00:58:47.653-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt; incredibly terribly depressed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;complete silence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she didn't say "i love you" once today. i knew something wasn't right. we talked online for a little while, and toward the end she told me about how she told her mom about what my mom said about their family. in an instant i went from enjoying trix in the bowl she gave me to shoving the bowl away and feeling incredibly sick. i couldn't believe she told her mom- i didn't learn the full story as to why, but it's gotta be some story. i feel terrible now, like almost as bad as on december 29.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pretty much, i made her mom cry, and that really put me in this mood. and then she said that "it's ok" and i shouldn't feel horrible. why the hell not? My asshole of a mom, who thinks she's the fuckin queen of england, thinks she can say anything about anyone, says that kind of shit about the family of the one girl i've ever loved, and all i can do is sit there and listen to it when inside i want to reach over the table and choke her? GOD!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i would cry if will weren't here, so i'm keeping it inside. to me it seems like liza's doubting our relationship, and that would be a ridiculously huge blow to me. just typing that makes me want to lie down and sob to myself. i text messaged her a couple times today and said i loved her, but i didn't get anything. i talked to her on the phone twice and it just felt different, like there was a different aura about the two of us talking. when we talked online, i told her i loved her quite a few times, and that i missed her, and i didn't get anything back. it makes me feel even worse just reflecting on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jstealth03: you need to know that i love you more than anything, and nothing and no one will ever change that&lt;br /&gt;Jstealth03: you tell your mom i said that-nothing is going to change between you and me as long as i can help it&lt;br /&gt;ElizaT25: k&lt;br /&gt;ElizaT25: i should really go to bed now&lt;br /&gt;Jstealth03: alright&lt;br /&gt;ElizaT25: goodnite&lt;br /&gt;Jstealth03: good nite&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's how it ended, with a good nite. i'm going to have the worst sleep of my life tonite.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107423264658008984?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107423264658008984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107423264658008984&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107423264658008984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107423264658008984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/mood-incredibly-terribly-depressed.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107419020511152408</id><published>2004-01-15T13:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-21T23:24:24.170-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;bored&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;One Woman Man~Dave Hollister&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just out of curiousity, i was looking at different tattoo galleries online. If anything, i'd want to get a simple cross, or a chinese symbol for something, like &lt;i&gt;loyalty&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;confidence&lt;/i&gt;, or &lt;i&gt;trust&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i decided to look for the symbol(s) for Elizabeth, and when i found it, this feeling went through me that made me think, &lt;i&gt;i have to get this&lt;/i&gt;-once we get married of course. Now normally, I always thought it was stupid for a person to get a tattoo of someone's name on their body, but it's not like i would rush to get this tattoo. i probably won't even get it, but it just looks so great.&lt;BR CLEAR=ALL&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and now i've come to the realization that i don't think about her millions of times a day- she's always on my mind, just lingering there, waiting for a (frequent) lull in my mind to take front and center. the more i think about it, the more i realize that we're gonna spend the rest of our lives together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107419020511152408?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107419020511152408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107419020511152408&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107419020511152408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107419020511152408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/moodbored-songone-woman-mandave.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107418010166312694</id><published>2004-01-15T10:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-15T10:23:40.076-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I Took this "Are You In Love?" Quiz-like i need a quiz to reaffirm my love for liza or something...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like me you are totally in love.You try to hide it&lt;br&gt;but you cant.You are nice and pritty in your&lt;br&gt;own way and you are a bit of a daydreamer.Have&lt;br&gt;fun and please rate my quiz....If you want to&lt;br&gt;talk to me on AOL or AIM my SN is:Fire moon190&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="-1"&gt;&lt;a href="http://quizilla.com/users/madison190/quizzes/Are%20you%20in%20love%3F/"&gt;Are you in love?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;font size="-3"&gt;brought to you by &lt;a href="http://quizilla.com"&gt;Quizilla&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107418010166312694?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107418010166312694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107418010166312694&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107418010166312694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107418010166312694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/i-took-this-are-you-in-love-quiz-like.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107414978010338130</id><published>2004-01-15T01:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-15T01:58:09.403-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;sympathetic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;Kelis~Milkshake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it snowed today. quite a bit. and i still had physics to go to. marvelous. but today was just like monday:&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8:00-9:50~ISS 210&lt;br /&gt;10:20-11:10~MTH 234&lt;br /&gt;6:00-6:50~PHY 183&lt;br /&gt;not the most fun filled day, that's for sure. after math i went over to the international center to meet up with amy to have some lunch, and ended up waiting til 12 for her to show up. that pissed me off a bit, but i guess in retrospect it was cuz of the weather. plus, she didn't tell me she was bringing her boyfriend tony, so that was a bit of a surprise. except for the fact that he's a drug dealer, he seems like a pretty good guy. they dropped me back off at my room and then i just kinda relaxed for a bit, then did some homework, then left to go meet a girl i was selling my chem book to and to pick up my book for my ME 180 class. after that i went to physics, which was a yawn. then vlad and i went over to holden to grab dinner with josh, we hung out for a little bit and then we took the bus back to bailey. will was gone and still is, so i just relaxed and did some math and watched the pistons game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;liza came online, and it was weird cuz i was just sitting on the couch and something compelled me to go look at my buddy list, and there she was. we talked for a little while about the usual, which i always enjoy. she could be throwing marbles at my face and i'd still have a big goofy smile on my face. after we finished talking i decided to sit down and watch "chasing amy," which i can now say is Kevin Smith's best movie, in my opinion.  there are some really great quotes in there about relationships and the movie as a whole made me appreciate the relationship i have with liza even more. Here's something that Holden (Ben Affleck) says that really hit a chord with me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I love you. And not in a friendly way, although I think we're great friends. And not in a misplaced affection, puppy-dog way, although I'm sure that's what you'll call it. And it's not because you're unattainable. I love you. Very simple, very truly. You're the epitome of every attribute and quality I've ever looked for in another person. I know you think of me as just a friend, and that crossing that line is the furthest thing from an option you'd ever consider. But I had to say it. I can't take it anymore. I can't stand next to you without wanting to hold you. I can't look into your eyes without feeling that longing you only read about in trashy romance novels. I can't talk to you without wanting to express my love for everything you are. I know this will probably queer our friendship - no pun intended - but I had to say it, because I've never felt this before, and I like who I am because of it. And if bringing it to light means we can't hang out anymore, then that hurts me. But I couldn't allow another day to go by without getting it out there, regardless of the outcome, which by the look on your face is to be the inevitable shoot-down. And I'll accept that. But I know some part of you is hesitating for a moment, and if there is a moment of hesitation, that means you feel something too. All I ask is that you not dismiss that - at least for ten seconds - and try to dwell in it. Alyssa, there isn't another soul on this fucking planet who's ever made me half the person I am when I'm with you, and I would risk this friendship for the chance to take it to the next plateau. Because it's there between you and me. You can't deny that. And even if we never speak again after tonight, please know that I'm forever changed because of who you are and what you've meant to me, which - while I do appreciate it - I'd never need a painting of birds bought at a diner to remind me of. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;perhaps one of the best things i've heard said in a movie. good nite all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107414978010338130?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107414978010338130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107414978010338130&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107414978010338130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107414978010338130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/moodsympathetic-songkelismilkshake-it.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107402769664533185</id><published>2004-01-13T16:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-13T16:03:09.920-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mood:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;pick one, odds are i'm it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Song:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;Lonely As You~Foo Fighters&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yesterday was uneventful, dare i say boring. class was like i expected it would be, and after physics in the evening i went over to josh's and we had dinner. i grabbed the bus back to my place instead of walking against the wind, so that was a plus. i worked on my math hw for a little bit, then watched tv, then read a little bit, and then liza called, which was unexpected, since she said she was going to be spending the nite at the house she was babysitting at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i was glad she called. i had thought about her probably every 30 seconds (if anything, i'm underestimating that) during the day, wishing she was here with me. i've never felt as strong a connection with anyone like the one i have with her. example: we were talking sunday night and i was sitting on the futon, thinking, "i wonder if she's going to ask me about the cookies she gave me." as soon as i turned my head to look at the box sitting on the shelf, she asked, "hey, did you eat those cookies yet?" i just about freaked out, but it was a good freaking out, because it reaffirmed that we do have a connection and there's definitely something special between us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and since i've known liza, i've noticed that most all the girls here are very immature, they're still stuck in the prom queen high school drama mode, and i don't see them escaping that anytime soon. liza on the other hand is mature, but she does have a silly sense of humor side, which i couldn't do without. i've said it before and i'll say it again, she is everything i could ever want in a girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think i'm gonna do some calc now, so i'll talk to ya later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107402769664533185?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107402769664533185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107402769664533185&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107402769664533185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107402769664533185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/moodpick-one-odds-are-im-it-songlonely.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107393825364021633</id><published>2004-01-12T15:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-12T15:35:59.780-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>watchin fresh prince- whenever i see ashley, i think of liza- damn they're both hot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*** by ashley i mean the one on fresh prince-just a weird coincidence i guess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107393825364021633?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107393825364021633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107393825364021633&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107393825364021633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107393825364021633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/watchin-fresh-prince-whenever-i-see.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107387622056341116</id><published>2004-01-11T21:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-11T21:58:17.606-05:00</updated><title type='text'>second semester, about time</title><content type='html'>Mood: tired but glad to be tired&lt;br /&gt;Song: Needle In The Hay~Elliott Smith&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;finally, i'm back on campus. i was getting so tired of my family it was ridiculous. i just realized my mom hadn't said one positive thing to me for a week, up until the drive back, when she said i had a good memory. other than that, it's been criticism, so i'm glad to be out of that house, even though it was nice being home and hanging out with andy and kyle. and after kyle wrote those harsh words about me, i'm glad we were able to smooth things out. without those two and josh, i don't know where i'd be. it just feels good to have a solid group of friends, friends that i can trust to be there for me, and i can't say i've ever had that. this month off has made me feel closer to the guys, and it makes me hope we can stay friends as we get older, have family barbecues, go camping, go to Lions games, and of course, poker night. that would be incredible and i'd consider myself an incredibly lucky guy, with the addition of one more thing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...my Elizabeth. I know i've said this before, but i've fallen in love with her. it's probably hard to believe, but i know in my heart that we were meant to be together. i think about her every minute of the day, and it hurts knowing the distance between us won't become any shorter anytime soon. but then all i have to think about is how it's going to be in a few years, and i feel incredibly better. she is my everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's really amazing how my life has come together so fast. it was around this time last year, just a few days after my 18th birthday that i was questioning who i was, what my purpose was in life, why i still didn't have a definite group of friends that i hung out with on a constant basis (i was torn between the cross country/track guys, but didn't feel like i belonged there, and josh's group of friends, who i never hung out with outside of a lunch setting). i didn't go to senior prom for the same reason; i didn't have a group of friends to go with really, nor a girl that i even thought about asking. that's why i was so glad high school was finally over, because the bad memories far outweighed the good ones- i'm sure i wasn't the only one, i guess i just never thought it would happen to me. everything is so much better now. i don't even care that i don't have any good girl friends, but having andy, kyle, and josh is important to me. Liza was the final piece to the puzzle i thought i would never complete.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107387622056341116?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107387622056341116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107387622056341116&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107387622056341116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107387622056341116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/second-semester-about-time.html' title='second semester, about time'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107375770070665009</id><published>2004-01-09T23:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-10T13:02:51.106-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>tonite was probably the most stressful nite i've ever had trying to talk to liza. more about that later, how about a recap on the day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i woke up this morning around 11, went downstairs, didn't say a word to my mom, i was still angry about the night before. i ate breakfast, then got ready to go pick up my glasses, lunch, and a birthday card for rebecca from the store. while i was at the store, i saw that they had started putting out valentine's day stuff, and immediately i thought of liza, even more than i had been. she's always on my mind, if not my first priority.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i was online, but then brian went on, but i was still signed into msn messenger, so she messaged me thru there, and brian just said, "liza is talking to you." so i just casually went to the computer and told her i'd talk to her later. i text messaged her later and we agreed we'd talk at 8. then she went to take a shower, so we didn't talk until around 8:40, and by 9 everyone had gone up. she called me, and we talked for a little while, then got disconnected. she called me back, and then we talked for 40 minutes, and then we got disconnected again because her stupid cordless phone dies every 15 minutes. at this point i was talking so cautiously because i didn't want anyone to be alarmed by the fact that i was saying "i love you" or "i miss you sooo much" to someone on the other end of the line. plus, there was always the chance that brian was hiding behind the second floor balcony- i've come to hate that balcony. but when she called again, i was pretty sure everyone had gone to sleep, so we said we loved each other at least 5 different times, and each time i felt better and better about it. she said she wished she could've have slept with me tonite, which made me ache for her to come in february all the more, but that won't happen, and i'll just have to deal with that. i'll see her in june and i'll be able to tell her how much i love her right to her face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we talked for a total of nearly two hours, and then my dad came to the balcony and said, "that's enough. go to sleep now!" talk about a friggin nazi. i'm going to talk to him about that in the morning, because he has no right telling me not to talk to whoever i'm talking to. it isn't like it's taking up those stupid precious anytime minutes. geez, only 36 more hours until i'm back on campus. i can't wait to be able to talk freely to liza again. i miss that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we talked more about the future, like how many kids we wanted (3 or 4), where we're going to live (toronto most likely, or someplace in canada at least- the quality of life there just seems so much better than in America), who i'm going to toast at the wedding (nicki, for giving liza my email address), and how she wanted to move to New York to work in banking for a little while. i can't wait til i'm 23 or 24 and able to just go visit her whenever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the feeling i get whenever i'm with liza, be it in person, or online, or on the phone, is indescribable. it's like seeing your first fireworks, your first kiss, your favorite song, the most ideal position you could ever be in, all rolled into one. it feels incredible, and i have no doubt this feeling will last me the rest of my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107375770070665009?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107375770070665009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107375770070665009&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107375770070665009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107375770070665009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/tonite-was-probably-most-stressful.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107367634270436332</id><published>2004-01-09T14:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-09T14:26:57.890-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Cause when I see you, it's like I'm staring down the sun &lt;br /&gt;And I'm blinded &lt;br /&gt;There's nothing left to do &lt;br /&gt;Still I see you &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107367634270436332?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107367634270436332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107367634270436332&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107367634270436332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107367634270436332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/cause-when-i-see-you-its-like-im.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107367618115382932</id><published>2004-01-09T00:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-09T14:25:13.293-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mood: eager&lt;br /&gt;Song: Blinded (When I See You)~Third Eye Blind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well just a day after my birthday, and my mom's already gotten angry at me like twice today. long story short, she kept criticizing me, for my shirt, for the supposed bad way i act, how i supposedly never do anything (even though she did say thank you for washing the dishes not 30 minutes before), and i just said, "mom, how about we set aside one whole day where you can criticize me?" all she said was "i don't like you." what the hell is that? are parents allowed to say that to their kids? I felt terrible and just went upstairs to my room and started getting my stuff together to take up to state. dad came up and just sat in the hallway, and we talked for a bit- i know he was just there to comfort me, because me and mom have always butted heads. me and dad have gotten along a lot better, so that's a bit comforting. i needed to leave the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;josh came over and then we went over to andy's and played poker and watched office space and mr. deeds. it was a pretty good time. i wished i could've talked to liza, but i was takin a lot of flak from the guys for not playing one hand while i told her what was going on. so now i'm going thru a bit of withdrawl having not really talked to her today. i emailed her a photo of me with the "silly rabbit" bowl she got me for christmas, which i used at breakfast this morning. it was great, i only thought about her every time i looked at that bowl. i miss her sooo much, it actually hurts if i try not to think about her, not that i would do that anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;while we were at andy's house, i told the guys we were getting married, but everyone but josh took it as a joke. well, it'll be on them in less than ten years (fingers crossed). the more i think about it, the more right it seems. i hope she feels the same way, and i think she does. never in my wildest dreams did i think i'd land such an amazing girl.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107367618115382932?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107367618115382932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107367618115382932&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107367618115382932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107367618115382932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/mood-eager-song-blinded-when-i-see.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107349984222330215</id><published>2004-01-07T13:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-07T13:25:15.373-05:00</updated><title type='text'>title? what title?</title><content type='html'>Mood: feelin old&lt;br /&gt;Song: Love~Musiq Soulchild&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, yesterday was by far an incredibly cold day, and it continues with today. with the wind, it's like -7 degrees- for you canadian folks, that's about -22 celsius.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;last nite me and josh went over to andy's and just hung out there. we watched 'robin williams live on broadway,' which was hilarious. then we talked with his stepdad mark, who's a really cool guy. he invited us to come to the robotics place where he works, so we might take him up on that. kyle called josh while we there and said he would come over, but he never did. that's the second time he's ditched us without so much as a phone call to tell us what was going on. what an ass. i'm tired of his crap, i could've swore we were like &lt;a href="http://www.deadjournal.com/users/deliriumsetsin"&gt;his best friends&lt;/a&gt;, but i guess i was wrong. forget him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i got home around 11:30, and thinking liza might be online, i signed on, but she wasn't, so i ended up talking to christine for a little bit and playing hold em poker. then, around ten after 12, my phone rang, and it was her. of course it was her, who else would be calling me? i was tired and bored before she called, but once i heard her voice, it was like i got a shot of energy, because i felt like i could've stayed up all nite as long as i knew she was on the other end of the line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she was the first one to say happy birthday to me, and i was happy about that. it would've been nice if we could've been together for my birthday, but that'll have to wait a few years. she isn't starting college til the fall, so it turns out we'll finish at the same time, so that's really convenient. and then we talked about marriage for a little bit, and i'll be honest with you, it brought a smile to my face, like a comforted, everything's-gonna-be-alright kinda smile. she talked about how she wanted dude, her dog, to be the ringbearer, which was fine by me. i know i'd get a kick out of it if he managed to do it, and i have no doubt he'll be able to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so it's kinda weird, i mean, we're not really boyfriend/girlfriend anymore, we're just two really good friends who just happen to have fallen in love with each other and have already planned parts of the we've even talked about where we're gonna live (most likely toronto, it's a compromise point between montreal and michigan). lol, a little strange if you're an outsider and have no clue what's going on, i know. whatever, it all makes sense to me at least, i guess that's what matters. it's talks like these that makes me hope the next 3 years go by fast, just so i can be with her. the next time i'm going to see her is in june, at andrew's first communion ("they have a lot of bathrooms," she said- i just laughed and thought about how hard it was just planning it during christmas-that fell thru). she was going to come for her spring break in february, but that was when we were still "dating." once we "broke up," she called it off, which i kind of understand, it just makes me a little sad/mad that we lose out on a week of hanging out without worrying about parents looking over our shoulders or any of that. but it's alright, i just think about how it'll all be made up for in a few short years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;liza is a once in a lifetime girl, and for me to have found her so early is even more amazing. i consider myself luckier and luckier with every passing day, because some people go their whole lives and never find their perfect match, and i found her before i turned 19. it's incredible. i love her, and that isn't a word i toss around lightly either.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107349984222330215?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107349984222330215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107349984222330215&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107349984222330215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107349984222330215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/title-what-title.html' title='title? what title?'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107327586991208445</id><published>2004-01-04T23:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-04T23:12:20.640-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How You Know She's The One</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;From the moment you meet her, there's this feeling, a lingering thought at first, but the more you talk and see each other, the stronger those feelings are. soon enough you wake up every morning thinking of her, and knowing that you'll talk at night is your only motivation for getting through the drudgery that is school. you don't go a minute without thinking of her, be it a random thought or seeing something that reminds you of some fun thing you might have talked about in one of the many 2 hour conversations you've had. the only real pure happiness you experience is when you talk to her, or get that one text message from her that could bring a smile even to the coldest of men. nothing else compares to her, she becomes the ideal for you. you think so much about her that it throws you off everything else you're doing, not that it matters anymore, now that she's in your life. you go to bed thinking of her, you dream about her, sleep the most incredible sleep because you know that everything's going to be alright so long as you're together in one form or another. you wake up and feel incredible, almost invincible because nothing's going to stop you today.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107327586991208445?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107327586991208445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107327586991208445&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107327586991208445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107327586991208445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/how-you-know-shes-one.html' title='How You Know She&apos;s The One'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107318983270732280</id><published>2004-01-03T23:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-03T23:18:22.436-05:00</updated><title type='text'>some people</title><content type='html'>Mood: weary&lt;br /&gt;Song: Shadow Of The Sun~Audioslave&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just when i thought i couldn't be any more shocked by what my mom has said, she comes out with one today. i decided to tell her that liza and i talk on the phone sometimes, and after about ten minutes of debating in my head, i finally did it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "guess who called me yesterday while i was hangin out with Josh?" (liza hadn't called me, but i felt this was a plausible story)&lt;br /&gt;Mom: "who?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "liza." mom just scoffs. "she just wanted to see how my new year went."&lt;br /&gt;Mom: "justin, be careful." (what the hell did she mean by that?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "we're just friends, we can talk."&lt;br /&gt;Mom: "they've had a pretty rough childhood, especially paul. their family isn't too great." (i was ready to erupt at this, but i kept it in check)&lt;br /&gt;Me: "what are you talking about? it's not their fault."&lt;br /&gt;Mom: "she's older than you." (only by like 3.5 months! damn traditionalists)&lt;br /&gt;Me: "so what, it's only like 4 months."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then mom talked about how liza's mom left her scarf at the anniversary party and how she seemed to have had a good time dancing. i just smiled at this, but it bothered me more and more as the night went on that she thought liza and her family weren't good enough. i seriously wanted to bring it up later, but then she would have realized that i'm more than friends with liza, so i'll wait til another day to confront her about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i mean, what gives her the right to judge people? She's been the same damn housekeeper at the same damn hospital ever since she came to the United States (why not canada?) do i sound like an ungrateful bastard? i know i do, but she shouldn't really judge people, i hate when people do that, especially when they have no right/reason to. pisses me off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wanted to talk to liza tonite, but she was in toronto, so we couldn't. sometimes i think i miss her much more than she misses me, but then i realize there's no way of knowing that. after all, she does call me, and i never do- i feel bad, but living under the nazi regime that is my home makes it hard to call someone without being interrogated for it. 85% of me is ready to go back to state, but i still have another damn week here. hope it goes by fast, so i can get everyone off my back and just do my thing on my own.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107318983270732280?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107318983270732280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107318983270732280&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107318983270732280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107318983270732280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/some-people.html' title='some people'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107317740679661209</id><published>2004-01-03T19:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-03T19:51:16.640-05:00</updated><title type='text'>eh....</title><content type='html'>nothin special as of late. i got my new receiver installed in the car yesterday. it only took like 5 hours longer than they told me. bastards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kyle, josh, and andy came over last nite and we just watched bad boys 2 and chilled in the basement for a lil while. today was pretty boring, just going around and getting stuff done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the past few nites i've been sleepin with spike, the stuffed lizard liza gave me for christmas. not like arms wrapped around him or anything, but just him on his own side of the bed. a little weird. maybe it is, and maybe it is. it's just pretty comforting to me in addition to the necklace. it kinda sucks that i have to wait til like june to see her again, but i'll make it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't feel like sayin a lot today. later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107317740679661209?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107317740679661209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107317740679661209&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107317740679661209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107317740679661209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/eh.html' title='eh....'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107298278162508210</id><published>2004-01-01T02:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-01T13:47:28.546-05:00</updated><title type='text'>04.01.01</title><content type='html'>wow, happy new year. the last day of 2003 kinda sucked, but overall, the year was more good than bad. some days that i remember because they were a)so important, or b)recent, or c)both a and b.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;03.12.31- i think this might have been the first new years i didn't spend with the family. goes to prove how much of a sheltered loser i've been. but that's all changed, for now and for the future. i went over to andy's house, where me, him, and josh ended up just hanging out because kyle didn't call us or let us know what was going on. we were a little pissed about that, so me and josh left a message on his phone where we got pissed off at him- i kinda regretted it afterward, but then thought, &lt;i&gt;forget that, i thought we were his friends, and he decides to go to a party at eastern instead of hang out with us?&lt;/i&gt; i took that as a slap in the face, and so did josh. all of us and andy's family played catchphrase for close to an hour, then the 3 of us went outside and played a little football in the 30 degree michigan air. it felt a lot warmer prolly cuz there was no freezing wind like there had been earlier in the day. i enjoyed just hanging out with them, because it just goes to show how good of friends we've become over the past few years. even though josh and andy wanted to drink (and that was fine, i didn't mind, my role will always be designated driver) and they felt the night was a little lacking because there were no girls there, i was fine with it, because we still had a decent time, and of course, i have liza, so i don't really care if there are girls there.&lt;br /&gt;	&lt;br /&gt;                after playing football for like ten minutes, we went in, counted down, drank our champagne/sparkling grape juice, and headed back outside. &lt;br /&gt;04.01.01- i text messaged liza really quick just to say happy new year and i that i loved her, and i left the phone on the table. after playin catch for a little while more, we called in a huddle and made an oath that we would be in toronto for new years 2005, and then andy added that we'd each have a girl by our side (even though the words he used were, "we're gonna have some tacos next to us." don't ask me). i really hope we follow through on it, because not only would we be doing something cool, i'd get to see liza, and that's always great. we came back in, and of course, i had 4 missed calls-one from kyle, and 3 from liza. i checked the voicemail and turned on the speakerphone so we could hear kyle come up with an excuse, but liza came on first, and everyone heard her say "i love you" and just went "awww." i just smiled and tried to play it cool, but there was no hiding it-i think i was blushing because the guys were makin fun of me. oh well, i'd take it any day. i saved her message and moved onto kyle's- he said that he was still at the party, and that he wasn't drinking (as he shouldn't be, seeing how his court order says no to that), and we couldn't make out the rest. whatever, i thought we were his friends and we were the ones he wanted to hang out with, but i guess i was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;	while we were inside talking, liza called me again, so i talked to her for about fifteen minutes, which was really nice. she has the amazing ability to make me feel like nothing else in the world matters. we talked about our plans for next year, as far as going to toronto for new years. i hope we follow thru on it, because it would be nothing short of heaven being with her on new year's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;03.10.11- the day liza and i became "official." it was the first relationship for the both of us, and while the officialness lasted up until december 29th, we declared our love for each other on the 30th. messed up, huh? honestly, i think about her every minute, there's always something that reminds me of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yeah, that's about it, only two really decent dates in the whole year. oh yeah, and graduation, first day of college, blah blah blah. that stuff sucks/ed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my new year's resolutions, as follows:&lt;br /&gt;-stop biting my nails&lt;br /&gt;-curb the swearing, especially around girls and kids&lt;br /&gt;-do something nice for one person everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we'll see how that goes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107298278162508210?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107298278162508210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107298278162508210&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107298278162508210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107298278162508210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2004/01/040101.html' title='04.01.01'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107289584707983380</id><published>2003-12-31T01:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-31T13:38:33.106-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Year, Same Thoughts</title><content type='html'>liza and i talked online for an hour or so while the rest of my family watched "simone." what i thought was weird was that i was just gonna spend the rest of the nite up in my room reading stephen king's "the dark tower," but for some reason i felt like going online, even though i didn't have to do anything whatsoever. and wouldn't you know it, a few minutes after i sign on, liza signs on. just another little sign that makes me believe that we're meant for each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i love her, i really do. and by love, i mean i'd do anything for her, and that's an exclusive group in my opinion. i love my family, josh, kyle, andy, and now liza. i would gladly take a bullet for any of those people, they mean that much to me. our relationship is unlike any other in that we said we loved each other a day after we said we were just going to stay friends until we were both in a position to start something serious and meaningful. if that meant waiting ten years, i would grab a comfortable seat and wait for the day. i don't even wanna meet any new girls at state-why would i want to? i have the perfect one waiting for me. josh is gonna be a little pissed, cuz i remember him saying, "well, at least this means we can both go and meet girls now once we're up at state." i just wearily nodded my head, knowing that i would never be able to meet any other girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for my sake and for my sanity, i hope these next few years go by fast and that i see liza a few more times. i'll always have pictures and her necklace, but sometimes the real thing is a hundred times better. the next time i will most likely see her will be in june, for andrew's first communion. i never was a big fan of all the little kids coming into the family (especially andrew), but now i am, because it seems that these events are the only time i get to see my love. june, six months away. that isn't so bad, as long as we keep talking until then, the six months will fly by like the time between october and christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know i keep talking about the necklace, but it's incredibly important to me. i will always wear it, regardless of what clothes i'm wearing. i treat it like a promise to her that i love her and always will, and would never do anything to change that. she is/was my first girlfriend, and her gifts to me were the most thoughtful gifts i've ever received. i kinda felt bad givin her the generic stuff like an ellen degeneres dvd and a book of cezanne's art. at least it seemed generic compared to what she got me. hopefully there'll be more chances for me to correct this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well that's enough from me, these past few days have been ridiculous. Happy New Year &amp; stay safe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;it's the way she makes me feel&lt;br /&gt;it's the only thing that's real&lt;br /&gt;it's the way she understands&lt;br /&gt;she's my lover she's my friend&lt;br /&gt;when i look into her eyes&lt;br /&gt;it's the way i feel inside&lt;br /&gt;like the man i wanna be&lt;br /&gt;she's all i'll ever need&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;115am 123103&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107289584707983380?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107289584707983380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107289584707983380&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107289584707983380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107289584707983380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/12/new-year-same-thoughts.html' title='New Year, Same Thoughts'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107281747294065949</id><published>2003-12-30T15:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-30T15:52:17.873-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>liza called me at 130. i stepped outside because i knew my parents were going to be wonderin who i was talking to. she told me that she read the past couple entries, and that she cried about it. that made me feel terrible, and tears started welling up in my eyes. that was the last thing i wanted to do to her. we talked for a little more than 15 minutes, and by the time we said bye, i felt a hundred times better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;we love each other&lt;/em&gt;. even as i type this i have a tear in my eye. we miss each other so much, and she told me that i was the sweetest guy in the world- now, i've been told that before, but this was the first time i heard it and knew she wasn't just putting up a front. she said that she would never want to see anything bad ever happen to me, and i had to lean against my window in my room (i moved upstairs once my mom yelled at me for being out in the cold) because i felt so relieved that she cared for me as much as i care for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the funny thing is that once i got off the phone, i went downstairs and was happy again for the first time since friday night. i'm sure the family noticed because all of a sudden i had energy, i was moving around, i went downstairs to work out and just overall felt better. i took a shower and shaved for the first time in three days (the shaving part, i shower every day). i just feel like a whole new person now. who knew a phone call could do so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107281747294065949?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107281747294065949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107281747294065949&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107281747294065949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107281747294065949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/12/liza-called-me-at-130.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107279507124501128</id><published>2003-12-30T09:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-30T09:38:56.123-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i fell asleep last nite with the lizard liza gave me wrapped in my arms. i woke up around 9, and felt sad, but not as bad as yesterday. i don't know what to do anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;maybe it's sad, but she my motivation for getting thru school. for my parents? nope. For me? yeah, right. i did it for her because i thought we could be together, and now i'm not so sure. she's such a great girl, i worry because i all but know she's going to meet someone better than me, and that hurts even more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107279507124501128?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107279507124501128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107279507124501128&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107279507124501128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107279507124501128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/12/i-fell-asleep-last-nite-with-lizard.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107279468940919158</id><published>2003-12-30T00:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-30T09:32:34.373-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>031230 1214am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just got back from hangin out with andy, josh, kyle, and evan. that took my mind off all that happened today between me and liza, but my heart still hurts like no other. i signed onto AIM and stayed signed on, holding out any hope that liza would sign on, just so i could talk to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i found myself thinking a lot of things i had thought before i had even started going out with her. me and the guys talked about what we doing for new years, and i said i wanted to get wasted. what the hell was i thinking? that's depression for you, josh even said that it would make me feel better for a bit, but i know it would most likely sadden me even more. liza liked the fact that i didn't drink, and even though i did it more for myself, i did it for her too. now that we're aren't seeing each other anymore, i don't know what to think. i hate this feeling. i know i won't be able to drink come wednesday night, and it makes me feel terrible, but glad at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;everything is quiet&lt;br /&gt;since you're not around&lt;br /&gt;and i live in the numbers now&lt;br /&gt;in the background&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and the necklace, the incredible necklace she gave me friday night. she made my heart melt that night, like nothing else mattered those 90 minutes we spent in the car. and now i wear this necklace to remember her, despite the fact that everytime i feel it around my neck, touch it, or look at it in the mirror, i hurt even more. i love all her gifts, they were perhaps the most thoughtful gifts anyone's ever gotten for me: the necklace she created just for me, the stuffed lizard that we talked so often about buying, and the trix cereal bowl, because i was her "silly rabbit." am i still her silly rabbit? i hope so, it actually meant a lot to me, even though i thought it was a little corny. i wonder if she feels as torn apart as i do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;the plans i made&lt;br /&gt;still have you in them&lt;br /&gt;cuz you come swimmin into view&lt;br /&gt;and i'm hangin on your words&lt;br /&gt;like i always used to do&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;even after paul had his talk with me, i still felt good about the relationship, even though what he said had a lot of truth to it, as much as i didn't want it to. i didn't think that at first, but now i do. i really like liza, so much that i was 75% sure she would be the girl i would marry. everything i like in a girl, she had it. i know it's hard to think that i met my ideal before i turned 19, but i did. does she feel the same? i sure as hell don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when she told me what she thought earlier today, i was really calm- it didn't really hit me til after i got off the phone with her that we our relationship was pretty much done. she did say she really liked me, and that she wanted to stay friends and try again later, and that was a bit reassuring, but i still wonder: is she going to move on, meet other guys, have relationships with them, relationships that very well may sever whatever we might have? i am almost positive that i won't meet any other girls at state, and if i do, none will even hold a candle to liza. she isn't coming to michigan state for her spring break, so i probably won't see her til may, when we go to adrian's first communion in toronto. it's going to be weird, i know it. i can't believe i fell in love so early, which is why it hurts all the more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;josh did make me feel a little better when we were going to the mall today. he mentioned how two of his cousins met someone when they were younger, broke it off, then met a few years later and got married. i can only hope that i still have a chance a few years down the road, but there's a little part of me that keeps saying, &lt;i&gt;you've lost it, you'll never have anything with her again&lt;/i&gt;. i get incredibly sad when i think that. i think my mom knows what's going on with me too, so i might just tell her what's been going on, not so much the physical part as much as the relationship stuff between myself and liza. it'll make me feel a bit better with my mom knowing, just because i need to get this heartache off my chest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;the words we used so lightly&lt;br /&gt;i only feel for you&lt;br /&gt;i only know because i &lt;br /&gt;carry you around&lt;br /&gt;in the background&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*it really made me feel better knowing that her family liked me, that makes me feel like i have an outside chance of seeing her again, because even though we were an hour apart or less for 7 of the 79 days we were a couple, not a day went by where i didn't think about her. liza, if you're reading this, know that i would give anything to be with you again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:55 AM 12/30/2003&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107279468940919158?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107279468940919158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107279468940919158&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107279468940919158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107279468940919158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/12/031230-1214am-just-got-back-from.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107272791021497845</id><published>2003-12-29T14:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-29T14:59:34.060-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>liza called me while i was in the car with my dad, so i told her to call me back when i was alone, in the store or something.  she did, and we talked for a little bit.  long story short, we're just going to be friends right now.  i mean, i knew it was going to happen, because what paul said to me made a lot of sense, as much as i didn't want it to.  i still felt terrible after getting off the phone with her, but i knew it would be for the better.  i can only hope we don't grow apart, because i really like her, and being without her for the rest of my life would be something i wouldn't be able to deal with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i feel so depressed right now, but for once it might actually turn out for the better. i hope so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107272791021497845?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107272791021497845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107272791021497845&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107272791021497845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107272791021497845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/12/liza-called-me-while-i-was-in-car-with.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107272690959893397</id><published>2003-12-29T00:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-29T14:42:53.653-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>today just seemed like a really depressing day. From the time I woke up til now (1218am), I have felt nothing but sadness. Well, a little bit happiness when the lions won.  It was a combination of things, but mostly because of liza being gone and me not being able to see her for another two months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But about that now.  When paul told me he just thought it would be better if me and liza were just friends, I felt like I had been shot.  I couldn’t believe he was telling me to end a relationship which I thought was going great.  I know I’m not going to do it, but I wonder about what liza’s gonna think when he tells her, if he tells her.  So I guess I don’t really know if she’s going to come for her spring break, as much as I want her to  Plus, I don’t think I made the biggest impression on her sister or mom.  They were both really nice, but for some reason I felt like their thoughts of me weren’t going to be all too positive.  I worry about that a little bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was at kenneth’s grandparents’ 50th anniversary party last nite, liza’s mom showed up, and I got excited, wondering if liza was going to come too.  But then I found out that she, grace, and susan had gone to the mall.  That made me a depressed, and for most of the party I felt like crap, like tired all of a sudden.  I just spent time fiddling around with the necklace that liza gave me, the necklace that didn’t match anything I was wearing, the necklace I’ll always wear because it’s the only thing that makes me feel like she’s in my arms again.  Oddly enough, the first time I went to touch the necklace, the phone rang-it was grace, but I knew it had to be liza.  I made my way to the exit and talked to her for a little bit.  She wondered what time I’d be getting out of there at, because she wanted to hang out some more, and so did I, but it was just so inconvenient. I would have had to drive an hour back home, get my car, then drive another hour to grace’s house in troy.  I felt really bad, knowing that the girl I thought I had said bye to for another two months was only an hour away and I was stuck at this stupid party filled mostly with people I didn’t favor too much.  It comforted me to hear her voice again, but when we said bye and I kissed her over the phone and she hung up before she could hear the kiss (I guess), that slight bit of happiness was replaced by a heavy heart, and I just walked back to my table and was pretty quiet the rest of the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only times I wasn’t quiet was when I was talking to liza’s mom.  I see so much of liza in her mom, and the other way around, so it was a bit more comforting seeing at least her there.  One time she asked me how I liked her cookies, and I thought she said “how did you like my kids?”  I said, “I really liked them,” and then she replied by calling me a liar- at first I was confused but then she added, “you never tried them.”  Then I thought, oh great, now she thinks I’m a liar, in her eyes I’m not good enough for anyone, let alone her baby daughter.  When we left the party, we just hugged and said goodbye, and that just solidified that I wouldn’t see any of them again for more than a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up this morning, incredibly depressed, but still incredibly thankful that I was able to see liza for three days.  I went to brush my teeth, and just stared at the necklace in the mirror, and just imagined I was back on the couch at jason’s house with her, just relaxing.  I went downstairs around 1130, had my bowl of cereal and banana, and just sat around the house for a bit, tired, sad, and lonely.  I played football outside with brian for a little bit, carrying my cell phone with me, just waiting to feel it vibrate, for any kind of text message from her, to let me know she was doing fine, or tat she missed me.  The two times she’s been here I’ve always gone through extreme withdrawl, but it’s obviously for good reason. I came back in the house, went downstairs, and worked out, then went upstairs, did my situps, then jumped in the shower to try and clear my thoughts, but couldn’t.  I mean, it’s now 1245am and I should be asleep, but by typing all this I feel a little better.  What I would give just to see her face again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to a few stores later in the day, and I text messaged her to see what she was up to, but never got a response.  That was a little saddening.  I was going to buy the finding nemo dvd because it reminded me of her, but decided not to for the very same reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to keep myself occupied so I don’t think of her too often, but it’s going to be really hard.  I hope paul didn’t say anything that would change her mind.  I’ve come to the realization that I need liza to keep myself sane.  Without her I’m just a boring, shy guy with nothing better to do than type in his journal(s) all the time.  But with her I’m all of that plus complete.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107272690959893397?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107272690959893397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107272690959893397&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107272690959893397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107272690959893397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/12/today-just-seemed-like-really.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107255503816376739</id><published>2003-12-27T14:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-01-12T15:35:25.793-05:00</updated><title type='text'>12.25-12.27</title><content type='html'>christmas came and went, but it was nice for the most part.  all the family came, we watched tv, played foosball, ping pong, talked, whatever.  I was surprised at how nice our house looked with so many people in it.  the fireplace was going, the atmosphere was good, the only thing i didn't like was how all the women were standing in the kitchen all but screaming to each other.  they didn't have to talk that loud.  can't wait til the basement's finished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but now onto the important stuff.  as the evening went on, i started getting a little worried about when liza was going to be coming. 4:00 passed, then 5:00, then 6:00, then 7:00, and finally, around 8, they showed up.  if i didn't care about making an ass out of myself, then i would have ran to the door, answered it, and given her the biggest hug i could've mustered.  but no, i played it cool, just sat on the couch and waited for them to come in to the main area.  i saw paul first, and i was a bit nervous about seein him, what with the whole i'm going out with his little sister thing.  he just came and shook my hand, and gave me a little smile, like he was saying, "i know what you're up to, and i don't like it." i just breathed a sigh of relief, thinking, obstacle one is over, now for the rest of her family.  the rest of the nite actually went alright, even though liza and i were both pretty shy toward one another. i made the first 'move' when i went and sat next to her while we were watching finding nemo (we both really liked that movie, which is why i stole it from my little cousin to watch it). the rest of the nite was pretty uneventful, and i said good nite to her with the rest of the family, not knowing if i would see her again before she left. jason (my favorite cousin, without a doubt, regardless of the trouble hes had in the past) gave me his cell number and told me to call him tomorrow since liza and her family were stayin at his house in rochester. he and jessica are the only other cousins to know about me and liza. my cousins nicki and steph (they're pretty immature) slept over, so i ended up falling asleep on the floor of the family room, just thinking about liza and wondering if i had missed my chance to even kiss her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i woke up on the floor and instantly thought about liza. i needed to see her today, soon. i called jason from the library to see what their plans were for the day, and they said nothing, that i could come over whenever. i started planning in my mind how i would get away from the house, and went back home, told my parents i was going to josh's, then got into a fight with them about trust (a story for another day). i stormed out of the house, hung out with josh for a little bit, then printed out directions to and from jason's house. liza called me and asked when i was coming, and i told her i had to go home, take a shower, and get outta there. i went back home and my mom asked me if i was still planning on going to jasons. i said yes, and she told me to stop at nicki's to pick something up. so i had my ticket to go, and all i needed to do was take a shower and figure out a way to take liza's gifts from my room to the car without anyone seeing. after showering i changed, and then uncle charles came over. Yes! now everyone was distracted, so i snuck out the front door with the gifts, ran barefoot to the car, and put them in the trunk. i finally left the house and got more and more excited as i got closer to rochester. i ended up spending way too much time at nicki's, doing absolutely nothing, but i got to jason's around 5.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i felt a little awkward just walking in, because most everyone knew why i was there. we ended up watching &lt;em&gt;malibu's most wanted&lt;/em&gt; for a couple hours, then made plans to go to clutch cargo's around 10. i didn't really wanna go, but i felt out of place as it was, so i just went along with it. i started wondering why i even came, but then liza came and sat next to me, like she knew what i was thinking. i felt really comforted when both of our feet were up on the ottoman, just lightly touching. the time came for us to leave, so jason and me and liza went in his car, first to pick up one of his friends. the guy reminded me of an indian old andy- a thug, said fuck every other word, and gave me and liza some laughs. we held hands for a little bit, which was really nice, i felt incredible during that time. when we got to the club, me and liza walked around for a bit before finding a couch to sit on. we pretty much spent the rest of the time on that couch talking, and kissing. i just liked being there with her, something so right about the two of us being together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we got back around 130, and we still had to give each other our christmas gifts, so the two of us got in my car and drove up to the empty parking lot of the star theatre. i enjoyed her being in the car, because we were finally alone, just the two of us. the gifts she gave me were nothing short of amazing- the necklace she made, which i will wear every day, a small blue stuffed lizard that is just a placeholder until we get the real spike, and a trix cereal bowl, because i'm her silly rabbit. i loved every one of them, they were so thoughtful. then we went to the backseat and just spent an hour together. i was in heaven the whole time she was with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we got back and just got ready for sleep- she went to sleep with her mom, and i was in the family room with paul, which i knew wasn't gonna be good, cuz he was going to have a talk with me. he talked about himself for about an hour, and by the end i was fallin asleep, but then he said, "but i guess we should talk about liza now." he had to wake me up. so the short of it is he doesn't think we should "see" each other anymore, just stay good friends. i felt like (and still do) someone threw a brick right at my stomach, and then followed it up with a kick to the face. just terrible. i got back home a few hours ago, and i know my feelings are pretty obvious, i feel like shit. i wish i could just curl up in a corner of my basement and sleep for 3 years, until i can actually see her again. God, i miss her so much already. i can only hope she feels the same way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107255503816376739?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107255503816376739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107255503816376739&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107255503816376739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107255503816376739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/12/1225-1227.html' title='12.25-12.27'/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107255489242213530</id><published>2003-12-27T14:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-27T14:55:54.326-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>what a merry christmas it was. i don't know where to start, it's been more than a week since i've done anything here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the week leading up to christmas was pretty boring, just the same ol stuff, hangin out with josh and kyle- trevor actually called us to hang out, but then we realized he only did it cuz katie was on a cruise.  that pissed me off a little bit.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as thursday got closer, i started gettin more and more anxious because liza and her family were coming.  I was excited to see her but scared about what it was gonna be like when we saw each other.  plus, the gifts i got for her were just sitting in my room, waiting to be discovered by wandering eyes, i.e. my brother's.  fortunately that didn't happen, but on one of many occasions, he did grab my cell phone and go thru all the names in my list.  now before, i had been able to grab it before he got to anything suspicous, but this time he got to "My Girl," which was liza of course.  he asked me who it was, and i just said it was josh probably putting down a girl's number on my phone cuz he always did. close call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok now a new entry for what has happened these past couple of days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107255489242213530?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107255489242213530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107255489242213530&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107255489242213530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107255489242213530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/12/what-merry-christmas-it-was.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107178733781395735</id><published>2003-12-18T17:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-18T17:43:11.296-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>alright so i'm feelin decently good today. me and liza talked for nearly 2 hours last nite, which was comforting, as always.  but there was another scare, of course, by way of my immature brother.  he got the mail, and one of the envelopes said "liza patterson, toronto."  of course i knew he was just messing around, but then a part of me started wondering whether liza would've actually sent a card using a stupid alias.  so then brian, for some odd reason, ran into the bathroom, and "read the card":&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"justin, merry christmas, i can't wait to see you, xoxoxo"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i just thought, oh geez, what the hell is going on?  why would he be saying stuff like that?  then mom chipped in by saying, "brian, why are you so stupid, it isn't like she's his girlfriend or something."  i bit my tongue at this point, and just didn't say anything.  i seriously don't know where any of that came from.  wow.  read my other journal (link on the right) for the other, non-pants wetting happenings today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107178733781395735?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107178733781395735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107178733781395735&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107178733781395735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107178733781395735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/12/alright-so-im-feelin-decently-good.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107154807001797847</id><published>2003-12-15T23:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-15T23:15:20.950-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i thought about liza a lot today.  i thought about her when i woke up, how nice it would be if she were lying right next to me.  i thought about herwhile i was shoveling the snow, thinking about how great i'd feel if we were just walking, holding hands, like that day we never found our way to the movie theater.  i thought about her while i was stringing up christmas lights, imagining how it would be if i were showing her thru the house.  i thought about her while i was watching tv, wishing she were curled up next to me.  i thought about her when i heard a sarah mclachlan song on tv, and that made me wish i could talk to her at that moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but enough of my being a hopeless romantic.  today was yet another boring day.  woke up around 1030, lazed about for a couple hours, then cleaned some of the basement, shoveled the snow out of the driveway, and before i knew it, everyone was home and i was sorta depressed again. i guess it's cuz at state i was free to do whatever whenever, but here everyone's always asking me to do something when i don't want to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i need to get out of the house tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107154807001797847?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107154807001797847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107154807001797847&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107154807001797847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107154807001797847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/12/i-thought-about-liza-lot-today.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107137193534917826</id><published>2003-12-13T22:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-13T22:19:44.216-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i don't even know why i opened this up. i don't feel like typing anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i carry my cell with me everywhere now, cuz my brother is always tryin to see whose phone numbers are in it, what notes i have, my text messages, blah blah.  he came in my room this morning cuz my uncle robert wanted to talk to me, and he ended up finding one of the gifts i got for liza, and i was like, "i won that at a gamenite." i dunno. then he saw the cd wallet, also liza's, and asked, "whose is this?" i just ignored him and told him to get the hell outta the room, i was still sleeping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everytime i leave the cell out in the open, there's always a chance he'll grab it and try lookin at whatever i have on there, i don't know what his problem is.  he saw my phone list, and amy and andrea were at the top, and he acted like a 3 year old: "ooh, who are they?"  i wanted to punch him in the face. i'm done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107137193534917826?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107137193534917826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107137193534917826&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107137193534917826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107137193534917826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/12/i-dont-even-know-why-i-opened-this-up.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107120430978917495</id><published>2003-12-11T23:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-11T23:45:56.373-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>bein home is kinda boring, but a very welcome change from the stressed week of finals and classes.  but there is one thing, and it's already gotten on my nerves like no other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;last nite i told my mom that me josh and kyle were probably gonna go to the mall today, and she replied with a "don't be a party animal." What the hell, can anyone explain this?  She doesn't expect me to just sit in the house all day does she?  I'm used to a much higher level of freedom at state, but still, i expect to have some here too.  geez, one of these days i'm just gonna burst at her.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today was me and liza's 2 month anniversary, only 2 more weeks til she comes, i'm gettin happier by the minute.  I want to go to mayflower tomorrow and see if they have any extra stratus parts lyin around, cuz i need to keep myself entertained with all this spare time on my hands.  hopefully my nazi of a mom will let me go.  Geez, i'm almost 19 and she has to give me permission. Fuck that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i dunno what else to say really.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107120430978917495?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107120430978917495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107120430978917495&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107120430978917495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107120430978917495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/12/bein-home-is-kinda-boring-but-very.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107111356288438369</id><published>2003-12-10T22:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-10T22:33:28.716-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>finals-over.  Chem wasn't so hard today, i don't know what else to say. I'm pretty sure i got more right than wrong, i'll just put it that way.  american lit was cool today, all we did was watch dark angel and talk.  I got home around 7:30, all the while it was raining, depressing, and gloomy.  I slept some of the way home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;home for a month, i dunno what that's gonna be like.  at least liza's coming for christmas, i'll be so glad just to see her face again.  and i got an early christmas gift (hopefully) in the form of new fog lights for my car, i'm excited about them, they're really nice.  i'll write some more tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107111356288438369?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107111356288438369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107111356288438369&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107111356288438369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107111356288438369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/12/finals-over.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107103693096424944</id><published>2003-12-10T01:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-10T01:16:16.090-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>and another thing, the stupid shout box on the right sucks, so i'm takin it out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107103693096424944?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107103693096424944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107103693096424944&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107103693096424944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107103693096424944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/12/and-another-thing-stupid-shout-box-on.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107103689505906149</id><published>2003-12-10T01:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-10T01:15:40.186-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I hate finals with a passion- even though i only have 2, and math was today, i've been studyin like crazy for chem, as much as i have ever studied, and i don't like it one bit.  I hate the fact that we're required to take all these classes that don't have anything to do with the major we're paying to get from this damn university.  I need to get outta here, it's gonna come true in about 16 hours. Can't wait.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107103689505906149?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107103689505906149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107103689505906149&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107103689505906149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107103689505906149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/12/i-hate-finals-with-passion-even-though.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-107026050935392205</id><published>2003-12-01T01:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-01T01:35:45.293-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'll say it- thanksgiving sucked, without a doubt.  I would've preferred staying here at state over spending time with the family. Is that bad? I really don't care, it's the truth.  i was so bored, especially on thursday. the only good thing was that the lions won, and during the party me and liza just text messaged each other. That was great, every message from her brought a smile to my face.  Me, josh, andy, kyle and casey went and saw "elf" saturday nite, funny movie.  Then after, i almost ran over casey with the stratus, and he freaked out like no other. The expression on his face and the way he ran was priceless.  We laughed for a good fifteen minutes about that.  Today was just tiring and boring, me and josh both fell asleep on the drive up to state.  now it's 1:30 and i need to go to sleep, but i don't feel like it at all.  I called liza and talked to her for about an hour and a half, and the whole time i felt more comfortable than anything could've made me.  It's just so nice hearing her voice, and i close my eyes and pretend she's sitting right next to me on the couch.  I can't wait til christmas, just so i can see her again.  ok, i'm ready to pass out, i'll most likely type some more in here tomorrow, at least more in detail stuff about this absolutely shitty thanksgiving break.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-107026050935392205?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/107026050935392205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=107026050935392205&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107026050935392205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/107026050935392205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/12/ill-say-it-thanksgiving-sucked-without.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-106965464638399771</id><published>2003-11-24T01:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-11-24T01:18:13.200-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>im nothing without you... like a fire with no flame&lt;br /&gt;girl its all you... i can hardly maintain&lt;br /&gt;you with no me... earth with no sea&lt;br /&gt;bird with no bees... thats the way im gonna be&lt;br /&gt;nothing without you... like a fire with no flame&lt;br /&gt;girl its all you... i can hardly maintain&lt;br /&gt;you with no me... earth with no sea&lt;br /&gt;bird with no bees... thats the way im gonna be without you..&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;em&gt;~Jagged Edge, Nothing Without You&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-106965464638399771?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/106965464638399771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=106965464638399771&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/106965464638399771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/106965464638399771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/11/im-nothing-without-you.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-106956857399393756</id><published>2003-11-23T01:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-11-23T01:23:22.216-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>ok i'm gonna keep this short. whoa, i haven't written in here for a while.  Anyway, here goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Josh went home for the weekend and went to the OSU-UM game. lucky bastard. I was so bored today and yesterday, i'm glad he's comin back tomorrow.  It felt weird not talkin to him online or in person.  But it's alright, he'll be back tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I haven't talked to liza since Thursday, so this combined with josh has made me feeling quite lonely.  Besides my family, they are the two most important people in my life right now, so going a couple days without talking to them is a big hit.  In fact, i text messaged liza yesterday and today, hoping to get a reply, but nothing.  Every little beep i heard, i thought it was my phone, and i anxiously checked it, just for any kind of sign from her. Nothing, but it's alright, i'm sure she's busy.  I found myself checking the laptop every 30 seconds while i was doing my homework to see if anyone had im'ed me, but nothing there either.  I've just been in the room all day, watching football, listening to music, doin hw, same ol. Will's been gone for most of the day, which was pretty nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Thank God there's only two days of class this coming week, and then thanksgiving. i can't wait to go back home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-106956857399393756?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/106956857399393756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=106956857399393756&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/106956857399393756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/106956857399393756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/11/ok-im-gonna-keep-this-short.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-106861761280256439</id><published>2003-11-12T01:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-11-12T01:13:30.336-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>a rollercoaster of emotions tonite, to say the least.  First off, i'm incredibly tired. I was up til 3 am working on a rough draft for atl that i ended up bullshitting anyway.  Then i woke up at 9, after going to sleep around 430 or so. i hate it, and all day i was sluggish and feeling like crap.  after atl, which wasn't too bad, i came home and just relaxed, did nothing except that stupid extra credit chem survey.  i ate dinner (by myself again), and came back to the room, watched tv, checked out internet stuff, blah blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then liza and i talked online for a couple hours or so. There was a huge bombshell, and it made my heart drop faster than a skydiver without a parachute (you like it? don't take it).  She said that her family was going to Virginia for Christmas because stupid Paul couldn't get any vacation time.  I was just shocked, i couldn't say anything.  Immediately we began talking about meeting up in Toronto for New Years, thinking of all the possible ways we could arrange it.  After a while of discussing ways that would never materialize, she called me.  She began screaming hysterically, i couldn't even understand what she was saying.  Then i heard- "We aren't going to Virginia for Christmas! We're still coming to Michigan!"  I was so incredibly happy.  We ended up talking til about 15 minutes ago, just about how much we missed each other, the CDs she left here (we listened to a few over the phone), and the physical aspect of the relationship.  She's a little scared to go on the pill, and i don't blame her. I've heard that there can be some pretty nasty side effects, and the last thing i want her to go through is any kind of unnecessary pain.  We just talked about this for a bit, then we talked about the different ways we're going to sneak around the house at Christmas to kiss each other.  Note: remember the bathroom plan: her going to the upstairs bathroom, and me following up after a few minutes. It's gotta work.  OK, well, i've had a near heart attack alraedy, so i think the best thing to do is just to go lie down. That won't happen, yet, but soon. later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-106861761280256439?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/106861761280256439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=106861761280256439&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/106861761280256439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/106861761280256439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/11/rollercoaster-of-emotions-tonite-to.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-106843683960527486</id><published>2003-11-09T23:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-11-09T23:00:37.570-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i've had this nagging feeling at the back of mind for the past three weeks. I want to drink. Is it bad? Yes, i don't know why i'm feeling like this. First, i should feel lucky for my health, and that I have a girlfriend that I didn't meet thru a party (kind of) or drinking.  I could have went to Amy's house party last nite, but missed out on it, so i ended up hangin at casey and josh's for the nite. just stupid. if andy and kyle come up, i think i'm gonna drink a little bit next weekend.  Don't ask me why i'm feeling like this, i just am. Dammit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, one month for me and liza is on Tuesday, and i couldn't be happier about that.  I think it may be unhealthy how many times i think of her a day. Ha, no such thing.  I'm really looking forward to christmas, i know i'm saying this every time.  If i don't talk to her tonite, i'll live, but it'll be a little depressing. just a little bit, because i like hearing her voice, it just comforts me. of course i can't talk in the hall anymore, cuz the guys razz me about bein on the phone for so long. whatever, i don't care what they think.  In fact, i was talkin to my mom one day, and matt walked by and told me to get off the damn phone cuz he thought i was talking to liza! I don't think mom heard that though, so i'm good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-106843683960527486?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/106843683960527486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=106843683960527486&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/106843683960527486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/106843683960527486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/11/ive-had-this-nagging-feeling-at-back.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702342.post-106801203471907830</id><published>2003-11-05T01:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-11-06T08:46:13.860-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I feel a lot better, honestly.  Josh came over yesterday, and we had dinner, then went back to my room to watch mr. deeds or something.  Liza called, which was unexpected, but welcome.  We talked for close to 2 hours- she made this list of things she wanted to ask me, and at one point she was crying. I felt terrible, i was near tears myself, and would have been if i was sitting alone in my room.  I think we got everything straightened out, so now everything's better. I'm glad, because I realized what an ass I was for saying stuff that i didn't even mean. Honestly, Liza is one of the best things that's ever happened to me, and i'm taking it for granted. I couldn't believe the doubts going thru my mind on sunday and saturday.  I felt like an idiot, and i hope she knows this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our one month anniversary is coming up on Tuesday, and honestly, I'm pretty happy about it. The relationship is kinda weird, not in the sense that it's long distance, but in the sense that it's been a little more than three weeks, we really like each other, and we already got in a major fight (not so much a fight, but the thesaurus in my mind stops working around 5 pm.).  Hopefully we'll be able to slow all this down a little bit and just enjoy what we have together.  I really do feel better when i talk to her, it's very comforting.  I need to sleep, i have early chem tomorrow, but i feel 200% better than i did sunday nite...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5702342-106801203471907830?l=f1rstyear.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/feeds/106801203471907830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5702342&amp;postID=106801203471907830&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/106801203471907830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5702342/posts/default/106801203471907830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://f1rstyear.blogspot.com/2003/11/i-feel-lot-better-honestly.html' title=''/><author><name>JRumao</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tjoXGCc2DfA/SnDmsM4uYlI/AAAAAAAAEEI/9nhzgLvVRLI/S220/aboutpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
