IT STILL IS NOT OVER

Yes, it is not. This semester is dragging. My deadline is April 30th.  I should have been done months ago.  I am faced with a sticky situation, accept your results blindly or prepare for a challenge. Knowing the stubborn bitch I am, of course I will take the challenge.  The challenge being an extra hour of grilling from a member or two of the committee. Afterwards, they reveal your scores and tell you that you were better off accepting your primary result.  I just don’t want to risk having a chance to make things better and know that I blew it.

That being said, I should be studying my ass off. I am blogging and on twitter along with replying to some lame work related emails instead.  I have a feeling that people see the time I reply and say to themselves “does this bitch ever sleep?”.  Normally, if it is an urgent email or a short reply, I do that immediately from my blackberry.  Otherwise, I mark it as unread and reply late at night. I tend to reply to emails as an average person takes phone calls. However, my cell phones are always on silent.  I never pick up unless someone calls while I am composing an email.  My sister even notices the tone of my voice, if it is a sharp giggly “what’s up” she knows it is safe to talk.  An hour ago, I picked up and said: “hala 7abibat galbi” (hi sweetheart) in a calm voice, she excused herself and announced she would call later when I was not busy. How cute is that?!

Truth is, I was thinking about red velvet ice cream along with watching The Notebook. I then decided that would be my after exam celebration and settled for watching clips from YouTube. Still, I ended up crying. This movie is heart breaking.  There are a few HD clips of it that are so touching, they get me every time. Not any more.

However, I do recommend you watch the whole movie if you have not done so already.

I will end this post with  IT STILL ISN’T OVER

Seven years. Yes, that is true love. If he would come back. Would I take him back? It has been seven years.

365 letters…. I only got one, a long one.  I asked for it.  I told him love letters were romantic, the real paper and pen ones.  He wrote it and slid it under the door. He called me to go take it before one of our dogs chews it up or the gardner wakes up and sees it.  I sill have it.

There is a part where he tells her that he has to end it because she is out of his league.  I am telling you now these are the worst words a girl could hear.  I was told those exact same words and I now know where that bastard got them from.  Targa told me to forget him and suggested he suffered from low self-esteem.  I was still hurt.  I was willing to sacrifice a lot of things he had issues with.  He made it easy, I did not have to go through. I might have regretted the sacrifices down the road anyways.  Life goes on.

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~ by Purple Velvet on April 19, 2010.

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