<?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-10685540</id><updated>2011-04-26T23:19:00.944-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What it's Like</title><subtitle type='html'>Life's like this you fall, and you crawl, and you break,
and you take what you get and you turn it into honesty.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>373</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-161526353777749222</id><published>2008-06-12T13:50:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-12T14:00:21.118-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Times Change My Minds Rearranged</title><content type='html'>It's been over year...Wow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it was easier for me to blog on a regular basis because all I would do is complain about being alone. Well, I'm not alone anymore and apparently my mind is elsewhere when it comes to having something to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am recently engaged and am very excited. With all the weddings I've been a part of and have been to, it's about time! My fiance is such a wonderful man, someone that I feel very lucky to have found. The first person that I don't have to question if he really likes me. Now that's a feeling. He is a firefighter in the San Antonio area, which means that changes will be taking place in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hard changes, but changes for the best. It will be exciting but something very new to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-161526353777749222?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/161526353777749222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=161526353777749222' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/161526353777749222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/161526353777749222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2008/06/times-change-my-minds-rearranged.html' title='Times Change My Minds Rearranged'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-7775944348315239734</id><published>2007-04-25T11:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-25T11:28:11.184-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How Can You Not Believe Even A Little?</title><content type='html'>I've had the same conversation over and over with certain people about Is there Really A God?? Even with people that have grown up in the church and was raised to believe that there is a God and that Jesus died for our sins. I'm not a preachy girl, I'm not one to start conversations about Religion and I definitely do not try and convert people. But there are time when it just comes up in random conversation. (usually after people ask me what my job is)&lt;br /&gt;I can't prove anything.&lt;br /&gt;I know that.&lt;br /&gt;But when you look around, you can't think that trees and the sky and people and animals and waterfalls and sunsets all happened because of "science"...I'm sure there are scientific explinations for everything...but I for believe it was all put here by God. One God. When you look around and see the sun and the clouds in the day time sky and the moon and the stars in the night time sky...how magnificant and awesome all that is...someone had to come up with that.&lt;br /&gt;And when you see all the peoples faces in the world...there are not two people that look excactly alike, except maybe twins, but they to have their differences. We may resemble parents, or famous people but we are our own people. We were individually created so be our own self. Not a replica of past generations. God made us different, to stand out, to be unique.&lt;br /&gt;I don't understand peoples train of thought that were raised going to church on Sunday mornings and taught the Bible, can one day be like, "this is a bunch of Hu-ha" and throw it out. What triggered that? Look around...what's causing you to not believe? I'm not saying you have to be live your life preaching to other people, but why not let that little voice in your head that's whispering to you that there is a God, just come out a little. I don't want to think about what could happen to you if you don't believe. I would like to be with everyone that I love after we are finished here on earth.&lt;br /&gt;Unless you think it's 'trendy' or a 'phase' you're going through...it's not trendy to be an athiest. It doesn't make you "cool". It makes me sad for you because I want you to all feel God's love and know that He is there watching over you and protecting you every day. I don't mean to convert or preach or pound my beliefs into anyone, I just want everyone to have some sort of belief system...something to look forward to...whatever that may be.&lt;br /&gt;Having something to live for is an amazing feeling. I know people that have seen war and death and other horrible things. And I don't want them to take for granted how precious life is. Be thankful for you family and friends and future spouse and future children...that's something to live for. Don't take this for granted. Love people, love God, for He gave you life.&lt;br /&gt;I love you all and think about you often!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-7775944348315239734?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/7775944348315239734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=7775944348315239734' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/7775944348315239734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/7775944348315239734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2007/04/how-can-you-not-believe-even-little.html' title='How Can You Not Believe Even A Little?'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-8317150044628331003</id><published>2007-01-29T11:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-29T11:13:36.701-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Catch Up</title><content type='html'>OK...so I decided not to go to Guyana. I thought long and hard and prayed about it. And though I'm sure I'll regret it, I'm going to pass on this trip. I did really want to go, but I think if I were to go to South America on a Mission Trip I would want someone that I knew to be with me. That's a huge thing to do by myself. So maybe next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got my passport in the mail the other day and it was exciting, but a reminder that I will not be using it anytime soon. But it is good to know that I can leave the country whenever I wanted to because I have the right documentation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another FANTASTIC note...I got a phone call from an dear old friend this weekend. By "old" I mean, I've known him since I was literally a baby. He had a son this past November...I'm sure you've seen the pictures! Well I was asked to be Co-God Mother to him!!! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Yay&lt;/span&gt;!! I can't tell you how excited and honored and thrilled I am have been asked to a part of his life in this way! I have just been in such a great mood all weekend!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An article from the Lutheran magazine said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A godparent is to develop a special, lifelong relationship with the godchild, communicating faith and values to her or him in word, deed and play, reminding him of his baptism, rooting for her as she grows and questions and struggles. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can do that.&lt;br /&gt;How might one choose a godparent?:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;* Will take a child seriously and invest time in developing a friendship with him or her.&lt;br /&gt;* Listens well, is caring and trustworthy.&lt;br /&gt;* Is a baptized Christian who could share her or his faith with a child (and later an adult) in conversation or action.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can do that too!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is just a wonderful feeling to be recognized as someone who will get to be a part of this child's life and is important enough to the parents to even be considered. I definitely feel blessed!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-8317150044628331003?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/8317150044628331003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=8317150044628331003' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/8317150044628331003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/8317150044628331003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2007/01/catch-up.html' title='Catch Up'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-8026190293207514694</id><published>2007-01-04T16:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-04T16:59:47.036-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Is Opportunity Really Knocking?</title><content type='html'>I've been given an AMAZING opportunity to go to &lt;a href="http://worldatlas.com/webimage/countrys/samerica/gy.htm"&gt;Guyana, South America &lt;/a&gt;to build a church in the "jungle".  How awesome would that be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The church has offered to cover some of the costs, not all of them, but enough to make it to where I'll be able to afford it without going completely broke. Last year there was a group of about 7 or 8 people from out congregation going, so I figured that would the same this year. I was completely wrong. So far, I'm the only one from the congregation that is showing interest in going. Here lies my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;delimma&lt;/span&gt;...Do I stay or do I go???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would be meeting up with a group of people from another church, so I wouldn't be completely alone on this journey, but knowing me, I would feel very alone.&lt;br /&gt;I talked with a woman from the congregation that has journeyed down there  three times and all she keeps saying is to &lt;strong&gt;jump&lt;/strong&gt; at this opportunity. She's 75 right now and her kids don't think it's a good idea at her age to go, or else she would already be there.  She feels such a connection down there.  For her, it was a life changing experience.  Of course it is...you're making a difference for people who &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; don't have anything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've traveled by myself plenty times, so I'm not really worried about the flying and travelling part.  But going to a whole new COUNTRY!!!! That's a big deal. I've never been out of the United States.  I don't know if I want my first time out to be by myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways... I need to make a decision soon. Apparently by Sunday or Monday, which only gives me a couple of days.  So all I'm asking for is some prayers for a decision to be made...or advice or just words to put me at ease.  Or if you're really feeling generous...COME WITH ME!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-8026190293207514694?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/8026190293207514694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=8026190293207514694' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/8026190293207514694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/8026190293207514694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2007/01/is-opportunity-really-knocking.html' title='Is Opportunity Really Knocking?'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-4715566093038457956</id><published>2006-12-19T09:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-19T10:05:59.727-06:00</updated><title type='text'>That Girl</title><content type='html'>I used to be that girl that would dye her hair every chance she got. It started my freshman year of high school.  I had beautiful dark brown hair like my mother's, but for some reason I just thought I had to put in blonde highlights like EVERYONE else I knew.  I did it, and I liked it, it was something different for me and I had fun with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then after that I wanted something different, so I dyed it completely blonde. Then I watched the movie &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0119116/"&gt;"The Fifth Element"&lt;/a&gt; and the character &lt;a href="http://www.millaj.com/pics/tfe16.jpg"&gt;leeloo&lt;/a&gt; played by Mila Jovovich really caught my eye.  I wanted hair like that. So I dyed my hair auburn, well that wasn't bright enough for me. So when I went off to summer camp I dyed my hair Brilliant Copper #68 (Luscious Mango).  I wanted it to be very orange...well it was. It wasn't like Leeloo's, but it was still orange. Then that faded away and I'm sure I put more highlights in it, then I dyed it all brown trying to get back to my natural color. Then right before I moved to Georgetown I put Red and Blond Streaks throughout my hair...yes, it looked AWESOME!!!  Then last year...February 2005 to be exact, I dyed my hair for the last time. I went and actually got it done at a salon. I did a dark brown so that when it grew out it wouldn't be very noticable. &lt;br /&gt;Even still when I go home my extended family askes about my new dye job because in the sunlight my hair has redish tints to it. and when I went to get it cut last month my lady made a comment about how it's growing out funny. It's actually growing out lighter than what I dyed it and I really noticed it this morning. The ends of my hair are pretty blonde when I'm blow drying my hair. How does that happen???  The part of my hair that should actually be dark...is so blonde. And then when I was driving across country with Lauren and I looked at my reflection a couple times...my hair was very red. It's really weird how that works out sometimes....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just something I felt like share with you all...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-4715566093038457956?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/4715566093038457956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=4715566093038457956' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/4715566093038457956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/4715566093038457956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/12/that-girl.html' title='That Girl'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-6784423805045450392</id><published>2006-12-07T12:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-07T12:22:39.581-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Know What to Title This</title><content type='html'>I am the worst sleeper in the world. It's ridiculous. I've gotten to the point where I just can't sleep through the night unless I take something that just knocks me out.  I hate having to be dependant on something just to get to sleep, but you know what... my body needs sleep.&lt;br /&gt;I woke up a good 37 times last night and I have no idea why. Am I not comfortable? Did something startle me? Why can't I just sleep????!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least I didn't wake up tired this morning, but sometimes I just wake up and don't want to get out of bed because I'm so tired. I don't think I've slept a whole night through in months. My Grandmother suggested I take a melotonin pill before going to sleep. It's just a natural sleep enhancer, nothing bad for you. But it almost made my sleep worse.  I had a hard enough time falling asleep and when I did...I couldn't stay asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If someone has had this problem and has found a solution PLEASE let me know, I'll take whatever I can get. Thanks!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-6784423805045450392?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/6784423805045450392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=6784423805045450392' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/6784423805045450392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/6784423805045450392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/12/dont-know-what-to-title-this.html' title='Don&apos;t Know What to Title This'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-7202679571263949090</id><published>2006-11-30T10:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-30T10:36:24.278-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What Irks me</title><content type='html'>I'm a little irritated that the phone companies can tell you how many minutes you can talk on the phone.&lt;br /&gt;We shouldn't be limited to much time we can spend on the phone before 7:00p.m. (Or maybe I just have the wrong phone provider.) I do use my phone pretty regularly before 7:00 and sometimes I get charged for doing so.  For a whole month I only have roughly 6.6666 hours of talk time on Monday thru Friday before 7. Now to me...that is ridiculous. Unless I'm talking to someone with the same phone provider. If my phone calls were short and sweet, that's fine, but they're not always. Or I'm not paying attention to what time it is when I answer the phone and just continue to talk for a while and then have to pay for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really think we should be able to talk for as long as we want whenever we want. Land lines don't give you a limit of how much you can talk on the phone, they just give you your fixed rate and tell you to have at it. My new month just came into effect yesterday and I already have used 130 minutes and that means I only have 270 minutes left for the rest of the month...that's just not fair. I shouldn't have to apy because I want to talk to my friends...Disgusted is what I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry it just pisses me off sometime...people giving me a limit of how often I can use my phone....and during the holiday season...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-7202679571263949090?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/7202679571263949090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=7202679571263949090' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/7202679571263949090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/7202679571263949090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/11/what-irks-me.html' title='What Irks me'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-8398968807769513309</id><published>2006-11-29T08:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-29T09:14:10.577-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Want to Scream But Make No Sound</title><content type='html'>I am very easily frustrated. So much to the point where it almost makes me sick. I'm having to deal with deadlines again, and for some reason or another, I have parents who just don't think that the deadlines apply to them. For instance, I had a deadline of this past Sunday for this big event I'm planning at the end of December. Yesterday I had everything sealed and stamped in an envelope ready to go when a mother called and said, I'm sending you my son's registrations forms....&lt;br /&gt;Of course I'm such a push-over that I said OK, and opened up the my envelope so that I could change everything to fit him and another boy in. Now I Have to get a whole new check written, which at my job is a painfully long and stressful process and so for me to ask for one at the last minute almost makes me want to cry. And you know what...I still haven't gotten those new registration forms in yet. So here I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;freakin&lt;/span&gt;' out and wanting to scream and cry at the same time, but I can't....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had another great conversation with my cousin last night. He was scared to call because apparently he had come into Austin to hang out with some of his buddies from high school and he didn't call me to come out and didn't know how I would react to that. It really isn't a big deal or anything, kind of sweet if you think about it.&lt;br /&gt;We always give each other inside scoops about the opposite sex, he gives me some little hints and I do the same for him. He and I are both pretty chicken when it comes to approaching the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;opposite&lt;/span&gt; sex and we use each other to pump ourselves up. He had wanted to talk to this girl in his class for a while and he finally got up enough guts and then asked for her email address. Her email address!! I was confused, why not ask for a telephone number. &lt;em&gt;Reason:&lt;/em&gt; a girl is more willing to give out her e-mail address to someone she doesn't know instead of her phone number. Good point I thought. It's true, I would much rather get an email from someone I barely knew than an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;awkward&lt;/span&gt; phone call. And then he said if you really liked the guy who is asking for you email address to just go ahead and write your number on there as well...and ladies...always write your name on the piece of paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not that guys forget your name, it's because they are just as nervous and are already thinking of there next line to say while your saying your name, that they just get nervous. Cute, I thought. What an interesting little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;tid&lt;/span&gt;-bit to know.&lt;br /&gt;I always get nervous about "making moves" on guys too, like after you first meet someone, I always feel like it's the guys responsibility to move things along, but sometimes they're just as nervous too. Like I met this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;fun&lt;/span&gt; guy a couple weekends ago and nothing really came of it, so I asked my cousin what I should do and he was just like: Guys are usually just as self &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;conscious&lt;/span&gt; as girls are and to just go ahead and email him and if nothing happens...then nothing happens, but at least you tried. True...it doesn't make you feel any better when nothing happens though. Oh well...that's just life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also told him about the date I went on this weekend that was super fun. And he said I handled it pretty well...I guess not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; can happen when he's hours away. Now, I'm not saying that long distance relationships can't work, but you both have to put the effort into it, and right now I'm not so sure I have that kind of attitude to put forth. But maybe we'll see how Christmas vacation goes and if I see him again then...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my cousin...to all my cousins, not just the one's I talk to on a regular basis...I love you all!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-8398968807769513309?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/8398968807769513309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=8398968807769513309' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/8398968807769513309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/8398968807769513309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/11/i-want-to-scream-but-make-no-sound.html' title='I Want to Scream But Make No Sound'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-6734129982433622718</id><published>2006-11-27T10:12:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-27T10:26:43.078-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I LOVE COMING HOME!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I love going home...or, I love visiting home. It is always just a great and wonderful time. I love the "Becky" that I am when I'm home and in a comfortable environment. It's not that I'm Not comfortable here...I guess I'm just more so there and it really shows. I'm a very fun person. I'm the person I was before I graduated from college and had to get a job. Not that I don't love my job, but there are somethings, like getting up in the morning, that just make it hard to be "fun". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At home, I'm a very hyper and fun to be around person. I'm always smiling and in a good mood, I'm very funny. I had a friend from high school come up to me and told me how much she likes to see me because I'm always so full of joy. Obviously she only see's me when I'm back home. But what an amazing compliment. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;People don't judge me when I'm down either, or maybe I just don't notice it as much. When I meet new people up here and tell them what I do, I always get weird reactions, but back home, people know me for who I am and what I used to be like. It's just so great!! Let's see what else made this weekend great...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besides having my favorite holiday every (THANKSGIVING), I got to see all my family, Yay! I got to go out on a date, I got to go to the zoo!!, and got to hang out with really awesome people.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought the "date" might catch your attention. It was really fun. I ran into a guy that I knew in high school and he asked to take me to dinner on Saturday night. Well, I'm not going to pass up a chance like that. The one time I get asked out and I have to get picked up at my parents house, which meant my parents just HAD to meet him. Which was alright, they're good people. Poor guy had to walk all the way up to the door and introduce himself to both my mom and my dad. But it was good. We ate out at the Outback. Delicious. We had some kangroo chops and koala-kabobs...just kidding. But it was such a great time. This guy is very outgoing so there weren't any awkward silences, which was great. I have a very hard time keeping conversation going, but it was easy this time. So that was that, we had dinner and he took me home. He went to hang out with his friend and I went out to hang out with my friends. He's in college station and I'm in Georgetown, so I guess that was it. It was fun, and I'm sure we'll hang out again...but is it really all worth it? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And the ZOO!! I love the zoo, I haven't been there since high school. It was great. They're doing construction so there were some animals missing, but I got to see the Giraffe and that's what I really wanted to see. And check it out. They have these new mini-zebra's in one exhibit...they let me hold it, It was awesome!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/3172/1304/1600/476755/CIMG0104.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/3172/1304/320/344337/CIMG0104.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hee Hee...that was funny, right!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So all in all, my weekend was great! Loved it. But now it's back to the punching the clock!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-6734129982433622718?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/6734129982433622718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=6734129982433622718' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/6734129982433622718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/6734129982433622718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/11/i-love-coming-home.html' title='I LOVE COMING HOME!!!'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-5269284114016853628</id><published>2006-11-22T08:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-22T08:42:58.244-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas List</title><content type='html'>I was talking with my Mom last night and we got on the topic of what to get me for Christmas. I had originally asked for a digital camera, but I wanted it before Christmas. So yesterday I went out and bought myself one. It's a pretty snazzy one too! So I need your help to get some ideas of what I should tell my parents to get me for Christmas. Any suggestions will be helpful! Thanks!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-5269284114016853628?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/5269284114016853628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=5269284114016853628' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/5269284114016853628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/5269284114016853628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/11/christmas-list.html' title='Christmas List'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-7245171550961957219</id><published>2006-11-17T20:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-17T21:04:09.352-06:00</updated><title type='text'>You Are Not the Father</title><content type='html'>I love the Maury Povich show. But I like the one's where he's making someone's dream come true or doing a make-over on a much needed human being. Whenever I see that it's going to be a Paternity Test Episode I usually just turn the TV off or change the channel. Well, today I didn't. Nothing else was on and I was just waisting time until I left for San Antonio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are some women on there that have tested over 15 men and still have no clue as to who the Father of their child is. How disgusting. It's one thing to cheat on a partner and have a little mix-up...but to have slept with over a dozen people at around the same time that you can't figure out who fathered the baby...there's got to be something wrong with you. I can't even fathom that.  I don't see it to be that difficult to be faithful to one person...much less to be unfaithful so many times with so many people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now these kids are growing up not knowing who there father is. Hello Ladies...there's an easy solution to all of this. STOP SLEEPING AROUND. It really isn't that difficult. Have a little self control to that you can be more respected to others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another man was on there and told his wife that he had cheated on her with over 50 people...and that's just in a couple years time. What is wrong with these people?!!  How rotten of a person do you have to be. I just don't understand all that. I just had to vent because it drives me crazy to think that all of this is going on and they wonder why they have all these illegitimate children and diseases and can't have a good relationship. Grow up and Get some Morals.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-7245171550961957219?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/7245171550961957219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=7245171550961957219' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/7245171550961957219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/7245171550961957219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/11/you-are-not-father.html' title='You Are Not the Father'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-9148968307654934955</id><published>2006-11-14T10:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T11:02:51.412-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love You Like A Chicken</title><content type='html'>Just be prepared that this post is going to be a long one because there are so many things to say!!&lt;br /&gt;First, I'll explain my title for the Post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went on a weekend retreat for Middle Schooler's this weekend.  It was really great. I was surrounded by 190 middle schooler's, that's got to be good!! The Synod brought in a woman named &lt;a href="http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&amp;friendID=47648073"&gt;Celia Whitler &lt;/a&gt;to do all of the worships for us. On the first night she was talking about her sons. One of them is 4 years old and each night he would say something to his mom like "I love you 100" or "I love you 1,000" or "I love you like candy" and one night he said "Mom, I love you like a chicken".  So that was our task for every day was to tell as many people that we love them like a chicken. It was great. What an easy way for Middle schooler's and even the older sponsors to tell other people that they love them and care for them. So if I come up to you and tell you that "I love you like a chicken"...that's where that came from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weekends theme was stories of faith, and one of our activities was to think of a family memory or tradition that has stuck in your mind. It's one of those things where it's always hard to think of something on the spot. But for some reason, a memory or my grandmother's house popped into my head out of the blue. She passed away in 2000 and it took me this long to just sit and think and remember. It's a simple memory, but it almost made me cry:&lt;br /&gt;Growing up, every Sunday after church we would go to my Grandma's house one weekend and then to Nani and Pop's (they didn't want to be called grandma and grandpa) on the other weekend. Every time we would go to Grandma's house in Falls City she would either cook us Polish Sausage with Fried Potatoes or Chicken and Dumplings. I'm sure there were other dishes that she made but those are just the two that always stuck in my mind. And every time I would walk in her house I would go up and give her a hug and go straight to the stove to take the lids of the pots to see what was cooking. I know it's a simple thing, but she always expected it to. I was always the one that checked what was cooking for lunch. I guess you could call it a tradition...it was just something that I did. And now that I think of it, it's a sweet memory that I will always have. It was obviously a part of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say I learned a lot about myself this weekend. There are other stories that I learned about my life that has made me in the person that I am today and that has pruned me into the woman of faith that I am today as well. I always get so much more out of the weekends that are intended for the youth than I do out of the weekends that are for the adults. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was also my first gathering without Lauren. :( Sad, I know. But that just meant I got to spend more time with my sponsors that I brought. Which was great, because they were super fun people that I'm really glad came along for the weekend activities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another story from the weekend. I drove our 15 passenger Van, that has dulley wheels in the back. It's AWESOME! Well to fit that many people into one vehicle, there has to be many rows. There's the front bucket seats and then 4 rows of youth in the back. Well one of the girls in the third row back got a little car sick. No, let me rephrase that...got a lot car sick. Good thing we had some plastic trash bags in the vehicle. Yes, she did make everything into the bag, but poor thing had to do her business surrounded by lots of other youth. Then there's me in the front seat who has the worst gag reflexes EVER. I thought I might get a little "car sick" myself. I had a hard time listening to the regurgitation in the back seat, driving 12 other people, and smelling the sweet aroma of the waste...I Gagged.... A LOT! But we made it back safely and without any more incidents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got back into town I had just enough time to go home and take a quick shower before coming back to work to meet with my high school youth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday was going to be my day off. It was for the most part. I had to get up early to go to the Orthopedist for my 6 week check up. He claims everything should be fine with me as long as I keep doing my excersices (which I'm not gonna lie, I don't do them as regularly as I should be). The shooting pains in my arms and legs to me are signs of a pinched nerve in my spine...but Mr. Dr....seems to think I'll be fine. So we'll see!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other exciting things from Yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents had their 30th Anniversary. THIRTY YEARS!!! That's very awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend Keith, his mom and my mom have been friends since the 8th grade, so we basically grew up together. He's like my 4th brother. Well he called yesterday afternoon...his wife delivered there son!! Yay!! Noah was born at 2:30, he was 8 pounds and I'm sure some ounces and 21 inches.&lt;br /&gt;Congratulations to the new family!!&lt;br /&gt;I'll be in that area this weekend so hopefully I'll get to pop in and see the new family!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had my usual phone call from my cousin last night. It was a long one. With council meeting getting out late and the unually long talk with Bryan, I missed watching Hero's and Studio 60 which makes me a little upset because I really like those shows. But family comes first. Anyways:&lt;br /&gt;Of course there was girl problems, which I hope my cousin just grow &lt;em&gt;some&lt;/em&gt; and realized that he's an idiot and shouldn't be dating girls that are 9 years younger than him. At least not right now.&lt;br /&gt;He also shared with me that he is an Atheist. Or in his words, he's at least 97% sure he's an atheist. The other 3% is skeptical. So of course we got into a discussion about that.  I noticed that I don't know how to handle stuff like that. It made me more sad than it did make me mad. He was a Marine and had been through lots of stuff and now he's a state trooper and I just figured that so much as happened in his life to support the fact that there is a God that he wouldn't have any reason to doubt. I guess I was wrong. He keeps our Grandma's Rosary in his bullet proof vest. He said that was part of his 3%, so I'm hoping that his 3% grows into something a little more. I just had no idea how to handle situations like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel that I should have all this knowledge to poor out to him because I work in a church, but I almost didn't have anything to say. I did say something, but I was so speechless that it was almost embarrassing. I told him I would pray for him and he said he would appreciate that. I'm hoping he's just going threw a confusing time right now. I know lots of guys go through a time when they don't go to church and just wait until they're married...the same ol' excuse I hear from many people. I asked him what he's going to do if he marries a christian and he said "I'll fake it". How do you fake something like that? To me if you're faking it, there's got to be a little Jesus in your hear that you know of, know what I mean.&lt;br /&gt;So if any of you have any advice for me on how to handle this let me know. Advice to where it doesn't sound like I'm preaching to him...I don't want to turn him away...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-9148968307654934955?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/9148968307654934955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=9148968307654934955' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/9148968307654934955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/9148968307654934955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/11/i-love-you-like-chicken.html' title='I Love You Like A Chicken'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-2275445149007613815</id><published>2006-11-10T16:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-10T16:17:28.318-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Everybody Loves 'Becky'</title><content type='html'>I was watching an episode of &lt;em&gt;Everybody Loves &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Ramond&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; last night. IT was about Ray's Father, Frank, being "Man of the Year". Ray's job was to put a video together of Frank's friends saying what they liked about him. Well...nobody had anything nice to say about him, so Ray improvised and made a different kind of video. Needless to say, Frank was a little disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that night, Frank got up enough courage to ask Marie, his wife, what she would have said if she would have been interviewed for the video, of course she said something very sweet and thoughtful about her husband. Just what Frank needed to hear. So in return Marie asked Frank what he would have said about her if the tables were turned. His response-he got up and said it was time for bed. Marie was furious! She looked right at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;him&lt;/span&gt; and said "That's why nobody likes you! You take and take and take and give nothing back in return. You just expect &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;everyone&lt;/span&gt; to like you because you're Frank."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've realized that I've somewhat turned into Frank. I just expect people to always like me and do things for me. I didn't used to be like that. I was always the giver and I guess sometimes you just get tired of giving and not receiving. When do the givers get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;something&lt;/span&gt; back?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to be very giving and ready to jump up and do anything for my friends. Not that I still don't do that...but it's a little different. I'm not as apt to be the first to open up and say what my friends mean to me...I don't know what's different, but it is. So to all my friends-thank you for putting up with me and my changed attitude. I would do anything for any of my friends and I hope they all realize that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-2275445149007613815?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/2275445149007613815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=2275445149007613815' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/2275445149007613815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/2275445149007613815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/11/everybody-loves-becky.html' title='Everybody Loves &apos;Becky&apos;'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-8640432280604867063</id><published>2006-11-06T12:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-06T13:02:00.546-06:00</updated><title type='text'>7 Minute Ride</title><content type='html'>I go home for lunch every day pretty much, except for the days that the Secretary and I do something together...&lt;br /&gt;Well my drive back was one of the most exciting I've had in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off, the weather is just perfect for riding with the windows down, which I LOVE to do!! So that right there just makes driving more enjoyable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drive past one of the many parks here in Georgetown to get to work and guess what...There's a CIRCUS TENT set up!! Yes, I know...Very exciting. Of course I'm sure it'll only be exciting on the weekends and yes, I'm booked for the next 4 weekends, so I won't get to see it. Which although makes me sad, I assume I'll survive. It is just neat to see a huge tent in the park.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The radio was playing great songs, which is good because I took all my CD's into my apartment because I was working on my mp3 player this weekend and I haven't yet put CD's back into the vehicle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I'm driving through town the radio show I was listening to made an announcement. Neil Patrick Harris, you may know him as Dr. Doogie Howser, is Gay. And apparently very proud of it. Which surprises me because his tv show "How I Met Your Mother", he's very NOT gay... So that was a very surprising moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, as I'm sitting at my last stop light before my arrival, I notice a SUV which was either a yukon/suburban/tahoe that had been converted into a hearse. Something I had NEVER seen before in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a way to end my drive.&lt;br /&gt;I was just so excited about all the happenings on my short drive that I just had to share it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-8640432280604867063?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/8640432280604867063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=8640432280604867063' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/8640432280604867063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/8640432280604867063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/11/7-minute-ride.html' title='7 Minute Ride'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-3911718891856383596</id><published>2006-11-06T09:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-06T11:20:08.389-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Where's the Line?</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was another busy Sunday here at work. We had our annual Spaghetti lunch that the Senior High Youth put on. It was a huge success and everything ran very smoothly. It just makes for a busy/tiring day. Which is fine. I did a little mingling while everyone was eating to thank everyone for their support. I stopped at a table with a two year old boy. Now this little one is adorable. He always gives me hugs and runs with me, we have a great time. Well, I was going to leave the table and so I said "bye bye" and he said "bye bye" and gave me a hug and then he wanted to give me a kiss. Obviously his parents and sisters kiss him on the lips like most families do, and so he's learned that that is where you kiss people. My question is, is that OK for me to do? That may sound weird because he's a baby...but as a youth worker, is there a line? I'm not sure. I just kind of laughed and turned my head and said bye again...I just didn't know how to handle that. Is it OK if I kiss other peoples babies on the lips??? I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also getting really stressed about the whole respect factor here at work. I've been here for 2 years and 8 months and my high school kids still look at me like another high schooler. It really gets to me sometimes. There are times when I ask them to do something or be quiet while I'm talking and apparently to them they hear "yes, have a conversation with your friends that is unrelated to what I'm saying." I absolutely HATE to yell, but I've found myself raising my voice pretty frequently lately, and that makes me sad. I don't like having to do that. I don't like that 'Becky.' All I'm asking for is a little respect, and it's only for a couple hours a week. I don't think that's too much to hope for. Is it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally bought my plane ticket to South Carolina and so my trip to see my favorite girl is official!! I'm so excited to finally get to see Lauren. It will be about 6 months since I last saw her from when I do get to see her and I'm stoked!! Yes, I said stoked!!  Saturday night I spent the evening getting my mp3 player loaded with new CD's, so that my plane ride will be more enjoyable. I'm just getting so excited!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK...back to work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-3911718891856383596?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/3911718891856383596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=3911718891856383596' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/3911718891856383596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/3911718891856383596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/11/wheres-line.html' title='Where&apos;s the Line?'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-9177509851318277275</id><published>2006-10-30T10:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T11:36:36.223-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wonderful Days</title><content type='html'>I just had one of the best weekends I've had in a while. Three days that were just wonderful and full of little things to make me smile!! Here's a recap:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FRIDAY:&lt;br /&gt;This day starts off with lunch with my aunt. She takes me to lunch every now and then and always brings me presents. She doesn't have any children and so she enjoys spoiling her neices and nephews, and now that I'm one that lives close to Austin, she has taken it upon herself to focus much of her spending on me. Now sometimes it's awesome stuff...and sometimes it's stuff for a 12 year old, but it's the thought that counts. OK, so that was fun. The day continues with a stop at the new Outlet mall in Round Rock. It was a beautiful day to be walking around outside. I was there for a reason, I need a black sweater to wear over my new dress for a wedding on November 19. OK, so I didn't find anything, so I went shopping in Georgetown at Wolf Ranch. Great place. I go to TJ Maxx. I love that place. As I'm about to go in, I see a woman about 12 feet away that's about to come into the store, so I stand at the door and hold it open for her. She looks at me and says "thank you" and so I say "you're very welcome" and then she looks at me and says "You're a very nice person!" and I say "thank you". I love little acts of kindness like that. I thought I was just being polite and she thought it was wonderful, so that was a little smile for me to keep for the rest of the day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought some wine glasses while I was there. I have been wanting a nice set of wine glasses for a while so I just went ahead and got some. I took them home and washed them, TWO sad things happened. I broke one in the sink while I was washing it, which almost made me cry (because I only had 3 ugly wine glasses to start off with and I was so excited about having a set of 4), and then...they're too tall to fit in my cabinets :( That was a bummer. They're still sitting out on my counter because I don't know where to store them...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, now were at Friday night. Kyle's roommate Eric's birthday was Friday and so there was a group of them that went camping. I went out for a while that night. I'm not about to sleep on the ground, so the plan was to stay until about midnight...OK, that didn't happen. I was really having a great time. Sitting around the fire, talking with people and watching boys act like men. It's super funny. OK, so they're not really boys....maybe I should have said, Men acting like boys. They get funny when they're out in the wilderness. When midnight came around the guys wanted to take a trek to the river. I thought that was a good time to leave, they walk away and I sneak off to my VUE. Well, sometimes you just can't get passed a guy that is 6'6" and built like a brick wall. I was slung over the shoulders and carried into the woods, far enough to wear I would be scared to walk back to my vehicle by myself. So yes, I did make the trip to the river. Which I was glad I did because it was fun. Cold, but fun. I got to see a side of these guys that I don't rarely get to see...so I'm glad I stayed later than I planned. That usually happens, and I'm usually glad that I stay. OK...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SATURDAY:&lt;br /&gt;I sleep till 11:30, so that right there is a good way to start a Saturday. I ran a couple errands in town and then decided that I wanted to see a movie. I drive to Tinseltown to see the 3:30 showing of &lt;a href="http://theprestige.movies.go.com/"&gt;The Prestige&lt;/a&gt;. I bought my coke from the counter and as I was saying "thank you" the guy behind the counter, he was maybe mid 30's, looks at me and says "you have such a beautiful smile". I blushed, said "thank you" and walked away. Again, another little act of kindness that made me smile. It's the little things. I watch the movie. It was excellent, I highly recommend it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was walking back to my car I noticed that I missed a call from an old friend. Apparently he was working a lock-in at a church in Pflugerville where I just so happened to be. How ironic. So I drive out to where he is and we get to hang out for just a little bit. I hadn't seen him since February, so it was nice to see a familiar face again. For the past 4 years or so I've been in his cell phone as Boo. So that always makes me smile. What a great kid!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that was a great Saturday. Plus, we all got an extra hour of sleep that night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SUNDAY:&lt;br /&gt;Confirmation Sunday. I could have ripped my hair out getting everything prepared for this Sunday. But everything ran so smoothly. I hate that I stress and overthink everything. It was a great service. I wore a dress! I haven't worn a dress that wasn't a bridesmaids dress in a very long time. Yes, I wear skirts every now and then, but a dress is different. So I got pleny of compliments that day, which of course made me smile. I got to go to a great after party with a delicious lunch and then it was back to church for some work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a group of middle schoolers to a hockey game. I was excited, it was my first one. Sporting events are so much more fun live. I had a great time. Plus, afterwards, we all got to ice-skate with the Hockey players. Now that's a neat thing. Of course, I'm such a chicken that I didn't talk to any of them, but it was still a neat thing to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3172/1304/1600/IceSkating.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/3172/1304/320/IceSkating.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;So that was my wonderful weekend. I didn't have a bad day and everything was just falling into place. I love weekends like that!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-9177509851318277275?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/9177509851318277275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=9177509851318277275' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/9177509851318277275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/9177509851318277275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/10/wonderful-days.html' title='Wonderful Days'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-1250819285356011476</id><published>2006-10-26T11:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-26T12:03:10.132-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Beckalicious</title><content type='html'>As I was driving home from Confirmation class last night I heard the new Fergie song on the radio called "Fergalicious" and I thought it would be funny to put my name in the place of Fergies name for some of the lyrics...It's good stuff. It's just bits and pieces, but here is what it would look like with my name and some lyrics cut out of the song!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;BECKALICIOUS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Beckalicious definition make them boys go loco&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I ain't easy, I ain't sleazy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I got reasons why I tease 'em&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Boys just come and go like seasons&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Beckalicious (Beckalicious)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;But I ain't promiscuous&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;And if you was suspicious&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;All that s**t is fictitious&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I blow kisses (mmmwwahhh)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;That puts them boys on rock, rock&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;And they be lining down the block just to watch what I got&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I'm the B to the E, C the K the Y&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;And can't no other lady put it down like me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was fun, wasn't it?!! Just a little break in the day to put a smile on your face!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, yesterday at lunch I went and bought the &lt;a href="http://www.matkearney.com/"&gt;Mat Kearney &lt;/a&gt;CD, Nothing Left to Lose. It's a good one. But of course, I only buy good CD's. I'm waiting for next year for the &lt;a href="http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&amp;amp;friendID=22931282"&gt;Sick Puppies &lt;/a&gt;CD to come out because that one is going to be out of this world AMAZING! I recommend both of them!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-1250819285356011476?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/1250819285356011476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=1250819285356011476' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/1250819285356011476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/1250819285356011476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/10/beckalicious.html' title='Beckalicious'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-3627541409782202535</id><published>2006-10-25T08:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-25T10:45:38.414-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Go Ahead, Tell me You'll Leave Again</title><content type='html'>Lying in my bed trying to fall asleep is when I come up with all these exciting things to write about in my blog the next day. And as soon as I sit down in front of the computer to let it all come out...I'm just blank. That drives me crazy. It even keeps me up at night because I have all these great ideas, and I try to come up with interesting way to write about them...I need to start keeping a notepad by my bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing that has really been &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;bothering me&lt;/span&gt;, and I know it shouldn't but I can't help it...is the age difference between people in relationships. I know eventually it doesn't matter, my parents are 5 years apart, my best friend is 9 years younger than her husband, but I guess I see those as being acceptable because I know these men...they're good people. As for some other guys that I know...I know exactly why they're going for these younger girls and it just makes me want to scream.  If I didn't know these boys intentions, I don't think it would bother me as much. But they've come right out and told me and it just gets me all riled up. &lt;br /&gt;Apparently girls that are closer to their age are more mature and know what they want out of life and these girls that are under the age of 20 are all...lets drink and be stupid. No, I'm not being stereotypical...I've hung out with them and know them.  I'm not saying don't have fun...just don't be "silly" about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I use the word "silly" in place of another word because I don't want to be vulgar for my readers. Now I like these guys....let me rephrase that...I LIKED (past tense) these guys, they're great people on the outside and to everyone else they're responsible, mature and all around good boys, but I've talked with them. Even had them on pedastools because of what I thought they represented. Had their hearts poured out to me, only to find out something younger and dumber would be easier to handle. Now I could just be bitter...but I've seen them together and it's makes me want to scrub every part of my body....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It also drives me crazy when family does that. I love everyone in my family so much. And to hear that someone younger is who they're looking for really makes me skin crawl. Why is that? Why do guys always look for someone that is 5-10 years younger than them? I don't get it. What can you possible have in common? Especially when the girls is barely in college and the guy has been out of college for years...I can understand later on in life when they're both on the same track of being out of college and living on their own. Whatever. I just hate to see these young girls get hurt...it makes me hurt for them.&lt;br /&gt;So to all you boys out there...just be careful of what you're doing. Know that girls always fall harder than you do could possibly be reading into a situation more than you are. Just be cautious of what you're doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also on another note, I know I'm 4 weeks early, but I am getting so excited about Thanksgiving. This is my all time favorite holiday!! Why you ask...mostly because there's a couple different types of mashed potatoes that are served that day, but because it's just a great holiday. The whole family gets together and all you have to worry about is food. You don't have to buy gifts for 30 people, you don't have to wrap the 30 gifts, all you do is sit around and eat all day. Maybe watch a little football and take naps, but it's a day dedicated to eating. Now I may not look like someone that eats a lot...but believe me, I can put it away. That is one holiday when I hate that I'm a picky eater. I mostly just eat the turkey, mashed potatoes and a roll....but I always get seconds. There's usually not a vegetable that I like served on that day and I don't know why that is. Then a couple hours after eating...it's time to hit the desert table. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Deliciousness&lt;/span&gt; all around!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29 more days!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I don't mind where you come from&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;As long as you come to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I don't like illusions I can't see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Them clearly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I don't care no I wouldn't dare&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;To fix the twist in you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;You've shown me eventually&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;What you'll do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I don't mind...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I don't care...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;As long are you're here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Go ahead tell me you'll leave again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;You'll just come back running&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Holding your scarred heart in hand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;It's all the same&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And I'll take you for who you are&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;If you take me for everything&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Do it all over again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;It's all the same&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Hours slide and days go by&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Till you decide to come&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And in between it always seems too long&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;All of a sudden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And I have the skill, yeah I have the will&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;To breathe you in while I can&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;However long you stay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Is all that I am&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I don't mind...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I don't care...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;As long are you're here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Go ahead tell me you'll leave again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;You'll just come back running&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Holding your scarred heart in hand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;It's all the same&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And I'll take you for who you are&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;If you take me for everything&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Do it all over again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;It's always the same&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Wrong or right&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Black or white&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;If I close my eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;It's all the same&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;In my life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The compromise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I close my eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;It's all the same&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Go ahead say it you're leaving&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;You'll just come back running&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Holding your scarred heart in hand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;It's all the same&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And I'll take you for who you are&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;If you take me for everything&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Do it all over again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;It's all the same&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;-Sick Puppies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-3627541409782202535?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/3627541409782202535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=3627541409782202535' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/3627541409782202535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/3627541409782202535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/10/go-ahead-tell-me-youll-leave-again.html' title='Go Ahead, Tell me You&apos;ll Leave Again'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-7106679782586752764</id><published>2006-10-24T10:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-24T11:02:54.949-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Broken</title><content type='html'>Well it's been a while since I've reached out to you all in the land of the internet. It's been a busy week and half. I had almost gone insane...but then I came back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was very excited to go to Kerrville last week. We were going to have a mini-retreat for the San Antonio and Austin Conference Youth Directors. Something that I really needed.  First I had to get up before 7:00 AM, so that was rough, and when I get up early I usually get that nauseous feeling in my stomach. Well that feeling wasn't going away even after getting out of bed and getting dressed and ready to go. My ride got to my apartment at about 7:15 and came up to my place. I told her I wasn't feeling well...long story summurized: I lost 5 pounds on Thursday because I was so sick. That's right...throwing up from 7:30 a.m. to 10:30...that makes for a long horrible day. It was awful. But I got to take lots of little naps and watch loads of TV. I like TV!!&lt;br /&gt;Props to Kyle for bringing me some Delicous Gatorade (which I later threw up) and &lt;a href="http://www.overthehedgemovie.com/"&gt;Over the Hedge&lt;/a&gt;. I haven't been sick like that in so long that I forgot how horrible feels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I spent the rest of the weekend laying on my couch and watching TV and sleeping. It was semi-relaxing, semi-recovery.  Didn't eat much, so I didn't have much strength. But I got enough of it to go to Trunk-Or-Treat.  That's just a little event that the church puts on for a Halloween Celebration.  We line up our cars, decorate our trunks and the kids get dressed up and trick-or-treat from trunk to trunk!! It's fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I guess I'm still in some sort of recovery process. I still just feel so tired all day and my appetite is just shot. Nothing sounds good, and nothing tastes good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;"If weakness is a wound that no one wants to speak of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Then "cool" is just how far we have to fall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I am not immune, I only want to be loved&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;But I feel safe behind the firewall...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;...I'm not alright, I'm broken inside&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;And all I go through, it leads me to you"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;-Sanctus Real&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-7106679782586752764?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/7106679782586752764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=7106679782586752764' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/7106679782586752764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/7106679782586752764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/10/im-broken.html' title='I&apos;m Broken'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-8969184232511059076</id><published>2006-10-16T13:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-16T14:00:02.561-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cacahuete Festival</title><content type='html'>The 2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; weekend in October is dedicated to the &lt;a href="http://www.floresvillepeanutfestival.org/"&gt;Peanut Festival &lt;/a&gt;in&lt;a href="http://www.floresvillechamber.org/index.htm"&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Floresville&lt;/span&gt; Texas.&lt;/a&gt; Why a "Peanut" festival you ask...well, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Floresville&lt;/span&gt; just so happens to be the Peanut Capitol of Texas. I know, that's a big deal. Of course, this is the weekend when college students come home, or people that moved away come back for a visit because they know everyone will be in town. Small town fun! It runs from Friday afternoon until late Saturday night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went out with my brother for a little while on Friday evening and ran into some old friends and family. You'll always run into someone you know. It really isn't that exciting, so Daniel and I went to Roper's. The only decent bar in town.  We ran into our next door neighbor there. Our families have lived next door to each other for, I would say, about 27 years. They just so happen to be my God-Parents. My God Mother was killed by a drunk driver last November and it was a pretty rough ordeal. They had lost their 21 year old son to Asthma when I was really young and now this. The poor family has been through more, but that's none of your business. It just a different situation. Guy, my God Father, must have been there by himself, but knew the men around him. We got to chit-chatting for a little bit and he bought my brother and I a drink. Then we sort of went our seperate ways. I went back to talk a little more, but he kept saying how much he missed his wife and how he thinks about her every day and how he wished she was here to see me (it had been a while since I had seen the both of them). It was just a really emotional encounter. I never have the right words to comfort someone like that. I mean, they had been married for over 30 years and now she's gone. What do I know about any of that? I just hugged him and told him how good it was to see him out and about. Although a bar really isn't the place he should be out at, but still. I guess it's better to be out socially than stuck in a big house by yourself.  All in all, I'm really glad that I ran into him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even after a late night, I got up to go to the parade the next morning. That was a little tougher than I expected. We always meet up with my uncle in the usual spot in front of the electric company. I got to see my cousin &lt;a href="http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&amp;friendid=8273834&amp;amp;MyToken=5a2587c0-e1f5-4f52-84b6-6874ec0322b4"&gt;Sarah&lt;/a&gt;, that I dont' get to see that much. Plus some more of my Dad's side of the family. What a great weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Narrowing down what I want to do with my future, which I'm a little excited about. Hopefully everything will work out the way I want it to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-8969184232511059076?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/8969184232511059076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=8969184232511059076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/8969184232511059076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/8969184232511059076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/10/cacahuete-festival.html' title='Cacahuete Festival'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-1849017384519485872</id><published>2006-10-11T09:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-11T09:16:28.717-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You are my Joy</title><content type='html'>There's always that one song that can kind of just GET YOU GOING...you get pumped up and ready to go face the world. Maybe a theme song for you.  I am one of those people that always seem to think of a song during conversation. In college when I would be walking around and this certain baseball player would walk by the only thing I would think of was the song "I want you to want me"...That song now comes up for other people as well...that song or the Mr. Big song "I'm the one that wants to be with you"...&lt;br /&gt;When I see my friend Lauren I think of the lyrics "You are more Beautiful, than anyone EVER..." I just can't help myself. There's just music constantly playing in my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that said...this is my new PUMP me up and get excited about life song:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;And He set me on fire &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;And I am burning alive &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;With His breath in my lungs &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I am coming undone &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;And I cannot hold it in and remain composed &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Love’s taken over me and so I propose the letting myself go &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I am letting myself go &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;You are my joy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;You are my joy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;You are my joy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;You are my joy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I need to catch my breath, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I need to I need to catch my breath, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;give me a moment now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;by The David Crowder Band...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Original pump me up song is "Ice Ice Baby"...that one will always get me excited. But for now, this is my back up!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-1849017384519485872?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/1849017384519485872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=1849017384519485872' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/1849017384519485872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/1849017384519485872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/10/you-are-my-joy.html' title='You are my Joy'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-8501140102696527199</id><published>2006-10-10T11:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-10T11:25:30.707-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Where to Even Begin</title><content type='html'>What an amazing weekend. I couldn't have asked for a better one...it was much needed.&lt;br /&gt;I attended the National Youth Worker's Convention from Youth Specialties. It was in Austin, but a friend and I got a hotel room for the weekend so it was like a mini-vacation. The speakers were great, the worship leaders were awesome, and fellowship is just always a good time.  There was laughing, crying, praying, revealing, contemplating and so much more. I am worn out from all the walking and listening but I am so glad that I got to participate in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's that little extra push of excitement about what I do that was a little overwhelming. I can't explain it, but right now, I'm so excited about what I do. I wish I didn't just get that once a year. But even so, I'm glad I got it. I could right an essay about everything that went on, but instead, I'm not. If you really want to know what happened, you can ask and I'll tell you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-8501140102696527199?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/8501140102696527199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=8501140102696527199' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/8501140102696527199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/8501140102696527199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/10/where-to-even-begin.html' title='Where to Even Begin'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-5542371952117220377</id><published>2006-10-04T09:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-04T09:19:51.265-05:00</updated><title type='text'>They're Big, I'm Little.</title><content type='html'>Well the doctor visit went well. Although I had to sit in a freezing cold room all by myself without my shirt on. Which was weird. I don't usually take my shirt off for many people...&lt;br /&gt;Good thing the doctor was pretty cute...married...but still good looking. He poked around on my back and made my bend over and stretch and all that good stuff. I told him the 3 different muscle &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;relaxers&lt;/span&gt; that I've been on for my back...and he prescribed one of the same ones to me. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Yay&lt;/span&gt;...more drugs.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways...for now, his diagnosis is a herniated disc. &lt;em&gt;There are many different terms to describe a herniated disc, such as a pinched nerve, bulging disc, ruptured disc or slipped disc. &lt;/em&gt;So for now I have to take a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;barrel&lt;/span&gt; full of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ibuprofen&lt;/span&gt; a day and go to physical therapy a couple times a week until I get the hang of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;exercises&lt;/span&gt; for me to do them on my own at home. So I'll go there this afternoon and see what's going on.&lt;br /&gt;I guess this is just the first step in a process of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;relieving&lt;/span&gt; back pain, but I figure I've been dealing with this since my Junior Year of High School, it's about time. So that's that...hopefully my hour of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;exercise&lt;/span&gt; today will do some good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note...I missed some voicemails on Monday, and I'm assuming it's because I turned my phone off while I was in the doctors office. Well, last night at 2:54 A.M. my voicemail on my phone sounded...so I decided to check it, since it scared me awake. No new messages. My phone just decided to pull a prank on my. NOT FUNNY. There were no missed calls, but it still went of. It was a little freaky...but oh well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-5542371952117220377?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/5542371952117220377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=5542371952117220377' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/5542371952117220377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/5542371952117220377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/10/theyre-big-im-little.html' title='They&apos;re Big, I&apos;m Little.'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-7148713589762472570</id><published>2006-10-02T10:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-02T10:24:07.054-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally</title><content type='html'>Well I finally did it...I'm going to go see a doctor this afternoon about my back.&lt;br /&gt;After years of being uncomfortable, I'm going to get it checked out. I left work early on Thursday because I was in so much I couldn't concentrate on anything. So it was a rough day and Friday wasn't any better...then I had to go camping on Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways....Thursday when I left work, I went and bought Back Pain Pills, some Emu lotion (I had gotten some in college it's supposed to be good for sore muscles) and a Lumbar pillow. And I still laid on the couch crying because everything hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Friday I spent most of the day on the phone with insurance figuring out all my deductables and what not. I found an Orthopedist on Georgetown that takes my insurance and had an opening today. So I took it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not expecting much because I've been to doctors for my back before...but I'm hoping it's a start and he can tell me what the next step is in getting this taken care of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll let you know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-7148713589762472570?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/7148713589762472570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=7148713589762472570' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/7148713589762472570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/7148713589762472570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/10/finally.html' title='Finally'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-7197516366461918603</id><published>2006-09-28T13:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-28T13:43:12.901-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One of my Favorite People!!</title><content type='html'>Yes...I have favorite people, and they are all very special. They're not necessarily best friends of mine...they're just wonderful people.&lt;br /&gt;Today I'll tell you about &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Brad H&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;...he's definitely one of my favorites. He just always puts a smile on my face with his personality. I met Brad in the summer of 2002 at Camp Chrysalis where we were on staff together. So, even though I've only known him a few years...he's one of the top people on my list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brad has been living in the Domincal Republic with the Peace Corps for a little over a year know and he sends updates every now and then through another type of blog. He is a Youth Specialist which means he is in charge of forming youth sports leagues, teaching sexual health, teaching a little English, organizing literacy campagins etc... for the youth in a rural community in the Dominican Republic. But this time, I got a personal email from him. Mostly, he was just asking for money to help sponsor some kids to get some retreats set up for them. He write:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"I was writing to see if you and the youth at your church would be interested in helping out my community. Thanks to a generous donation from the NFL (specifically the Chicago Bears) we have formed a flag football team for kids ages 10-16. They have already participated in one tournament and the team is really starting to become cohesive. However, I would like to expand to focus of the group and not just concentrate on flag football but also work on leadership and character building. To do this I am organizing a series of workshops that will, hopefully, culminate with a weekend retreat to a high ropes course here in the Dominican Republic. The only problem in funding."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if anyone would like to help out...I'm gonna help him out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But back to why he is one of my favorite people...the way he writes just puts a smile on my face everytime.&lt;br /&gt;I would like to take some snippets from his recent emails to me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;"My everything,&lt;br /&gt;Hello friend! I know it has been a while since we last saw each other tromping around the fields of Camp Chrysalis, but I hope all is well for you in the bustling metropolis of Georgetown...even though I HATE YOU!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;"To my most HATED friend in the world-&lt;br /&gt;I HATE you!! I hate you more than my no-milk-producing goat!! And I HATE that goat! Becky, my dear, how are you? I miss you...."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;"I love you. Wait! What? No I dont! I HATE YOU!!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;" Smooch, thanks so much! You're the best. Hope everything is going well and fill me in on your life.&lt;br /&gt;I hate you more than toe-socks (those things are creepy. they make your feet look like hands. Awkward!)&lt;br /&gt;Brad"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways...those were just from the two recent emails and I thought they were funny!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-7197516366461918603?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/7197516366461918603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=7197516366461918603' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/7197516366461918603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/7197516366461918603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/09/one-of-my-favorite-people.html' title='One of my Favorite People!!'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-5831596679875321025</id><published>2006-09-27T11:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-27T11:10:35.533-05:00</updated><title type='text'>His Plan for Your Mate</title><content type='html'>Everyone longs to give themselves completely to someone- to have a deep soul relationship with another, to be loved thoroughly and exclusively. But God, to a Christian, says "No, not until you are satisfied and fulfilled and content with being loved by Me alone. I love you, my child, and until you discover that only in Me is your satisfaction to be found, you will not be capable of the perfect human relationship that I have planned for you. You will never be united with another until you are united with Me- exclusive of anyone or anything else, exclusive of other desires or longings. I want you to stop planning, to stop &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;wishing&lt;/span&gt; and allow Me, to give you the most thrilling plan &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;excisting&lt;/span&gt;- one that you can't imagine. I want you to have the &lt;strong&gt;BEST&lt;/strong&gt;. Please allow me to bring it to you. Just keep watching Me-expecting the greatest thing- keep experiencing the satisfaction knowing that I AM. Keep learning and listening to the things I tell you. You must wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't be anxious. Don't worry. Don't look around at the things other have gotten or that I've given them. Don't look at the things you want. You just keep looking off and away up to me, or you'll miss what I want to show you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, when you're ready, I'll surprise you with a love more wonderful than anyone would ever dream. You see, until you are ready, and the one I have for you is read. I am working even this very minute to have you both ready at the same time. Until you both are satisfied exclusively with me, and life I have prepared for you, you won't be able to experience that love that exemplifies your love with Me...and this is perfect love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And dear one, I want you to have the most wonderful love. I want you to see in the flesh a picture of your relationship with Me, and to enjoy materially and concretely the existing unions of beauty and perfection and love that I offer you with Myself. Know that I love you utterly. I am God Almighty. Believe and abe satisfied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q's:&lt;br /&gt;1. What does this letter from God to you say about His role, plan, and purpose for you life?&lt;br /&gt;2. What would it look like, in your life, to be 100% completely satisfied with God?&lt;br /&gt;3. How do you feel knowing that God is preparing your future husband or wife at this very moment?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;*I was looking for a devotional to do with my high school group this Sunday while we go camping and I found this in a binder that I had from when I worked at camp and I wanted to share it with you all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-5831596679875321025?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/5831596679875321025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=5831596679875321025' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/5831596679875321025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/5831596679875321025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/09/his-plan-for-your-mate.html' title='His Plan for Your Mate'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115920110479124885</id><published>2006-09-25T11:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-25T11:18:24.953-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoroughly Predictable</title><content type='html'>Here's a secret...I love the movie "A Walk To Remember". I just think it's a great movie. Probably not likely...but still, a great movie.&lt;br /&gt;I watched it on Sunday over the couple hours I wasn't at church. There's a scene in the movie where Mandy Moore and Shane West are riding the school bus back to their school after Saturday tutoring and this is one of the conversations they had:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0601553/"&gt;Jamie&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Please don't pretend like you know me, ok?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0922342/"&gt;Landon&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;But I do, I do. We've had all the same classes in the same school since kindergarten. Why you're Jamie Sullivan. You sit at lunch table 7. Which isn't exactly the reject table, but is definitely in self exile territory. You have exactly one sweater. You like to look at your feet when you walk. Oh, oh, and yeah, for fun, you like to tutor on weekends and hang out with the cool kids from "Stars and Planets." Now how does that sound?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0601553/"&gt;Jamie&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Thoroughly predictable, nothing I haven't heard before.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0922342/"&gt;Landon&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;You don't care what people think about you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0601553/"&gt;Jamie&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;No.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I'm just going back to my last post...it may seem that you know who I am or what I'm about...but like she says, it's just thoroughly predictable. Hah...I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, let me give you the definition of a &lt;strong&gt;deadline:&lt;/strong&gt; a date or time before which something must be done. a date or time BEFORE which something MUST be done. Now, when I see that there is a deadline I'm usually turning it in before it's actually due.&lt;br /&gt;Now to me, this is a simple task. You get an assignment you get the date in which you need to give it back. Simple.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know that this doesn't apply to everyone. Silly me just thought that we all had to go by certain deadlines. But apparently this isn't true. Some people are just so powerful that deadlines don't apply to them. They can turn in anything past deadline and it's fine. How do you get this power you ask? But there are people that go to my church that just seem to think that deadlines mean: turn it in whenever it's convenient to you, so that you are not going out of your way make someone else's life easier. Maybe I just have the wrong dictionary.&lt;br /&gt;So please for the sake of other people's job's and sanity, if you see that something has a deadline, try and get it turned in one time!! Please!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115920110479124885?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115920110479124885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115920110479124885' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115920110479124885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115920110479124885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/09/thoroughly-predictable.html' title='Thoroughly Predictable'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115876457205366734</id><published>2006-09-20T09:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T13:24:27.453-05:00</updated><title type='text'>So Much!!</title><content type='html'>I have so much to talk about today!! Awesome I know. I'm sure you all have just been waiting to hear me say that! There's a lot to say because lots has happened since 4:00 yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, the secretary and I just have Hours upon hours of "comp" time building up, so we decided to leave work at about 4:45. Which at first I saw as a good thing because I needed to make a stop at Pet Smart because &lt;a href="http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2005/08/peanut-is-finally-back-with-me.html#comments"&gt;Peanut&lt;/a&gt; needed some food. I ended up buying her a &lt;a href="http://www.petsmart.com/global/product_detail.jsp?PRODUCT%3C%3Eprd_id=845524441780561&amp;FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=2534374302047884&amp;amp;ASSORTMENT%3C%3East_id=2534374302023695&amp;bmUID=1158775471167&amp;amp;itemNo=6&amp;In=Small+Pet&amp;amp;N=2047884&amp;amp;Ne=2"&gt;new house &lt;/a&gt;too because her little wooded one that she has now is a couple years old and just a little gross and chewed up. Fine, I don't mind buying stuff that I need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was leaving I noticed that Best Buy was just across the parking lot and I was thinking to myself..."you know, I haven't bought a CD in a while and I KNOW for a fact that &lt;a href="http://www.newfoundglory.com/site.php"&gt;New Found Glory's&lt;/a&gt; new CD, "Coming Home" just came out today." CD's are always cheaper if you buy them on the day they come out, so it was just logical to buy it that day! I also remembered that &lt;a href="http://www.theearlynovember.net/index_main.php"&gt;The Early November &lt;/a&gt;also had a newer CD out that I hadn't purchased yet. So of course, I might as well buy it while I'm there, right? Right. Plus when I got there, I saw that the Early November CD was a 3 disk pack + a DVD...That's awesome. Three CD's + DVD for like $13.99...it doesn't get any better than that. So basically I bought like 4 CD's for under $25. That's good spending. AWESOME!! I know.&lt;br /&gt;As I was checking out the high school boy ringing me up asks how I'm doing. I say: "I'm doing well, thanks. How are you doing?" "I've never heard anybody answer like that, using the word 'well'"...I told him that he's not the first person to tell me that. I got called out on saying "well" the other day also. Isn't that the correct way to use that word? I'm not an English major, but I thought I wasn't doing anything wrong. Then he says, "It's just funny to see someone your age say it that way"....my age? What the heck does that mean? I kind of laughed a little laugh and then walked out of the store. And what did I see when I walked out...more stores. I can't control myself. I proceeded to buy three shirts at another store. Then I made myself leave, because apparently I have a problem and I needed to get out of the shopping area!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I got home and sat on my kitchen counter and put my new CD's in the CD player one at a time, and yes, I listed to every song. How many songs you ask...59. Yes, 59 songs I listened to. That's a lot of songs. But one of the disks from The Early November has 24 songs on it and none of them are over a minute and a half. So that helped.&lt;br /&gt;I think I made some excellent purchases at Best Buy. I definitely recommend both of those CD's to anyone looking for new CD's to buy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After listening to all my new songs I watched the movie &lt;a href="http://www.hustleandflow.com/"&gt;"Hustle and Flow". &lt;/a&gt;I also recommend that movie to you all, especially if you like rap music. It was just good entertainment and an eye opener. I was interupted half way through by my cousin. But I didn't mind because I really like talking to him. He'll be 30 in December (don't tell him I told you that), so he's my "advice" guy. He tells me what guys are really thinking when they say certain things, and I tell him what girls really think when they say certain things. He really makes me feel good about decisions I make when it comes to guys and lets me know that I shouldn't feel bad about anything I decide. Kind of makes me feel alright that I'm shallow at times. He's definitely shallow at times...but come on, who's not Shallow??? You're lying if you say you're not. So we had a nice hour long talk...Good times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then I go to sleep. I'm such a bad sleeper. I haven't gotten a decent nights sleep for years now. It's like my back just know's when I'm going to bed. As soon as I lay down I can just start feeling it begin to throb and then I can't get comfortable and everything from my shoulders to my neck to my spine to my ribs to all over my back is just hurting. It really stinks. Yes, I've been to doctors and gotten medication and done the "excercises" prescribed to me and even got an MRI on it, but nothing seems to work. It sucks. And I complain about it...but I don't know what to do about it, so any suggestions on this subject will be appreciated!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I wake up unrested and in pain, but I have to face the day anyways...and yes it still hurts, but I guess it's just something I have to live with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I'm getting ready this morning, the Bobby Bones show is talking about the farthest you've ever been for a first date. Some people were calling in that they flew to Missouri and it didn't work out right away and a girl was just stranded there for a couple days by herself because the guy just wasn't that interested. That's rude of the guy. At least hang out with her while she's there! So here's my story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First story comes all the way from &lt;a href="http://www.ci.detroit.mi.us/default.htm"&gt;Detroit, Michigan&lt;/a&gt;. That is 1352.65 miles away...pretty far I know. But at least it was him that flew down and not me. It was a nice 5 days together of hanging out. Of course it didn't work out, but it was a fun weekend of something different.&lt;br /&gt;Second story takes me 1388.76 miles...just a little farther. Yes I flew all the way to &lt;a href="http://www.sturgeonbaywi.org/"&gt;Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin&lt;/a&gt;. By myself. My parents were a little freaked out, but it was a family member of a lady at church. So I wasn't too worried. I knew right away that it wasn't really something that was going to "work out" and we talked about that right away, and so the trip was great. We still had lots of fun hanging out. Plus I got to travel and I love traveling and I don't think I would have ever gone to Wisconsin for anything. So it was a good excuse to go there!&lt;br /&gt;Both boys were pretty far, make that Very Far, away from home, but they were both something new and exciting. Long distance relationships are hard and you have to work at them. But I think they can be something great as long as you both put something into. I don't necessarily recommend that everyone make these long trips, but for some, it could be a great experience for you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I met a boy from &lt;a href="http://www.cityofflorence.com/"&gt;Florence, South Carlonina &lt;/a&gt;this past fall while I was in Nashville and he was pretty fun. We hung out for a night and then I flew back to Texas and he drove back home. We talked on the phone for a few months after that, but again, it wasn't a big deal. Just another state to mark off of guys...just kidding. I don't have boys in every state...or do I? Kidding again. But I do have friends from far away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I worked in Pennsylvania at &lt;a href="http://www.camptioga.com/"&gt;Camp Tioga&lt;/a&gt;, I met a bunch of fun people. I didn't actually "date" anyone while I was there. But I did go on a date the last day before I left for Maryland. This guy was from New York, but I think he's in Massechusetts now. We still email back and forth every now and then...which is nice. Just a little catch up time.&lt;br /&gt;I guess I do have friends all over the place!!! I even have friends out in California, Arizona, Kansas, Oregan...goodness, I need to start traveling more to make some visits!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The morning radio show just got my juices flowing about all the people from out of state that I don't get to see anymore...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So those are all my stories for the day...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115876457205366734?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115876457205366734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115876457205366734' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115876457205366734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115876457205366734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/09/so-much.html' title='So Much!!'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115869500832519840</id><published>2006-09-19T14:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T14:43:28.350-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Like and Dislike</title><content type='html'>I was inspired by another blog to think of things that I hate. So I got on the topic if words that I dislike. I really don't like the word Hate, so we're going to use "dislike".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here it is. Words I dislike:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Hate&lt;br /&gt;2. Panties or Panty&lt;br /&gt;3. Pure&lt;br /&gt;4. Discharge&lt;br /&gt;5. Denied&lt;br /&gt;6. Cancer&lt;br /&gt;7. Douche&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Words I Like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Amazing&lt;br /&gt;2. Delerious&lt;br /&gt;3. Pumpkin&lt;br /&gt;4. Skittle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now this is a work in progress so I'm sure I will think of more words, but this is just what popped into my head at this moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115869500832519840?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115869500832519840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115869500832519840' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115869500832519840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115869500832519840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/09/like-and-dislike.html' title='Like and Dislike'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115858828453064492</id><published>2006-09-18T08:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T14:45:44.440-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes I Wish</title><content type='html'>Sometims I wish I could trade places with someone else. Just to be somewhere different, do something different, and be someone different. I HATE when people stereotype me and just &lt;a href="http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/03/seriously-i-dont-mind.html#comments"&gt;assume they know who I am&lt;/a&gt;. I guess I'm just as guilty, but I feel I at least give people a chance. It really gets to me sometimes...like I have this huge label across my forehead and when people read it, they stear clear of me. It hurts, and it sucks and most of the time I can't do anything about it. I'm terrified that no one will ever see me for who I really am. The feeling comes and goes but when it hits...it's gut wrenching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had dinner with an old friend the other day, someone that I don't really ever "hang out" with, but he was in town, so I did. He just got married this past May and I was asking how that was going. His response..."We don't really have anything in common, but she's real cool." Nothing in Common??!! Real Cool!!! Not a "man I really love her" or "it's just great"...it was a little depressing to hear.&lt;br /&gt;Why would you even consider marrying someone you have nothing in common with? To me, he's just settling. I know he's in his 30's and was probably just thinking this was the next logical step to take...but that stinks. I don't want to have to "settle" for someone. That's just sad-but at the rate I'm going-there's a possibility that it could happen. But I'm going to do my best for that not to happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where to go now? Life is just very distracting right now, I have a hard time concentrating and focusing on certain tasks. I can't figure out what's distracting me-but there's something there. I don't know how to put my finger on it, I just wish I could so that I can get in to a more of a routine where I can actually "live". Wouldn't that be Awesome? I guess if I had the will power I could just switch things on and off, but I just don't have the strength. I can see myself being ridiculous, but how do I fix things without help. If I just had the strength and will power to change my attitude things would be so different....better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had a good talk with Lauren last night. Goodness, I miss that girl. She's the only girl I know that I'm so comfortable to tell things to. There's no judgement in her tone...just friendliness. It sucks that she's so far away...but at least we're still as close as if she was still here!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115858828453064492?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115858828453064492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115858828453064492' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115858828453064492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115858828453064492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/09/sometimes-i-wish.html' title='Sometimes I Wish'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115853364851249920</id><published>2006-09-17T17:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-17T17:54:08.540-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Few More</title><content type='html'>Here's a few more songs that I thought of over the weekend that I think you all should listen to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mest - "Living Dead"&lt;br /&gt;Sum 41 - "Motivation" and "In Too Deep"&lt;br /&gt;New Found Glory - "Head on Collision" and "The Story So Far"&lt;br /&gt;Blink 182 - "Please Take  Me Home"&lt;br /&gt;John Mayer - "Love Song for No One"&lt;br /&gt;Something Corporate - "Fall"&lt;br /&gt;Guster - "Rocketship"&lt;br /&gt;Our Lady Peace - "Do You Like It"&lt;br /&gt;Trik Turner - "Friends and Family"&lt;br /&gt;Lil' Keke - "Platinum in the Ghetto" (that one's just fun!)&lt;br /&gt;Sensefield - "Save Yourself"&lt;br /&gt;David Gray - "Be Mine"&lt;br /&gt;Aqualung - "Brighter Than Sunshine"&lt;br /&gt;Better Than Ezra - "Lifetime"&lt;br /&gt;Mest - "Rooftops"&lt;br /&gt;Phantom Planet - "One Ray of Sunlight"&lt;br /&gt;Sarah McLachlan - "Push"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chose these songs because of the lyrics, so you would really need to listen to them!! Go ahead, they're wonderful!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115853364851249920?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115853364851249920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115853364851249920' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115853364851249920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115853364851249920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/09/few-more.html' title='A Few More'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115825199847810216</id><published>2006-09-14T11:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T11:39:58.523-05:00</updated><title type='text'>LISTEN TO ME!!!</title><content type='html'>I was listening to the &lt;a href="http://www.967kissfm.com/pages/bobbybones.html"&gt;Bobby Bones Show &lt;/a&gt;this morning and I only caught a glimpse of this one segment and it was them giving off their three favorite songs...or something like that and it got me thinking about what my favorite songs are. I love listening to music, so it's hard for me to narrow down what my favorite songs are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I decided to share the list with you all that I came up with. These are in no way in any particular order because I love them all. I tried puting them in groups, but I couldn't do that. I know there are more songs out there, but this was just me brain-storming at work, if I were to sit down at home with lots of time...I could come up with some more songs...so here it is for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Becky's List of Top Songs!!:&lt;br /&gt;"Ice Ice Baby" - Vanilla Ice&lt;br /&gt;"Just Like Heaven" - The Cure (The Goldfinger version is awesome too)&lt;br /&gt;"Hands Down" - Dashboard Confessional&lt;br /&gt;"So Long, So Long" - Dashboard Confessional&lt;br /&gt;"Push" - Sarah McLachlan&lt;br /&gt;"I Shall Believe" - Sheryl Crow&lt;br /&gt;"Always on Your Side" - Sheryl Crow&lt;br /&gt;"Season" - Good Charlotte&lt;br /&gt;"Faithfully" - Journey&lt;br /&gt;"Jack and Diane" - John Mellencamp&lt;br /&gt;"Do I Have to Say the Words" - Brian Adams&lt;br /&gt;"With or Without You" - U2&lt;br /&gt;"You've Lost that Lovin' Feeling" - Righteous Brothers&lt;br /&gt;"Chcolate" - Snow Patrol&lt;br /&gt;"I Want to Hear You Sad" - The Early November&lt;br /&gt;"Mr. Jones" - Counting Crows&lt;br /&gt;"Straight Up" - Paula Abdul&lt;br /&gt;"Cover Girl" - New Kids on the Block&lt;br /&gt;"Every Rose Has it's Thorns" - Poison&lt;br /&gt;"Here I Go Again on my Own" - Whitesnake&lt;br /&gt;"To Be With You"- Mr. Big&lt;br /&gt;"Going Nowhere" - Oasis (and Wonderwall was awesome too)&lt;br /&gt;"Killing Me Softly" - The Fugees&lt;br /&gt;"Tears in Heaven" - Eric Clapton&lt;br /&gt;"Walk on the Ocean" - Toad the Wet Sprocket&lt;br /&gt;"Head On Collision" - New Found Glory&lt;br /&gt;"Paul Revere" - Beastie Boys&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know there are plenty more...especially when it comes to Rap or R&amp;amp;B, but this is just the basic list for now. I hope you take some time to listen to some of the songs that you don't know...so that you can see why I like them!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115825199847810216?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115825199847810216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115825199847810216' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115825199847810216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115825199847810216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/09/listen-to-me.html' title='LISTEN TO ME!!!'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115818436386725989</id><published>2006-09-13T16:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T16:52:44.730-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sneezing</title><content type='html'>Because I don't know how to put a video up on a blog I'm sending the link:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A3TnQ16leUE"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A3TnQ16leUE&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RqqQdRimuG0"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love this clip of Dane Cook, I've watched it a couple times and I think it's great.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it has a couple cuss words on it, but just pretend like they're not there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But all you out there who hear "God bless you" after someone sneezes it's because ONLY God can "bless" you...no one else has the power to bless, just "The LORD".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115818436386725989?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115818436386725989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115818436386725989' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115818436386725989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115818436386725989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/09/sneezing.html' title='Sneezing'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115800281276578131</id><published>2006-09-11T14:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T14:26:52.820-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Give Me Some Credit</title><content type='html'>I think I must keep my self confidence in a box hidden in my closet because it's never around when I need it. I have my moments of feeling inadequate when it comes to my job and to other aspects of my life. But when I take that step back...I see how much I really do have things under control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been a complete wreck when it comes to this program I'm starting at work. I haven't been able to please everyone (and that drives me up the wall), I don't feel like I'm doing things right, and I just don't think I'm accomplishing anything that needs to get done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met with my "boss" today and he set me straight. I was looking at what I do and you know what...sometimes I just amaze myself at how well I do with what I'm given. I need to just give myself a pat on the back and tell myself that I'm doing the right thing and everything will turn out. I can't help it if parents aren't as dedicated to church as mine were and don't get their kids here. It's NOT my problem. They are the ones that will have to deal with it in the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My support system here just seems kind of hidden at times. It's not like when I was living at home and my parents were always telling me how well of a job I was doing, I'm not surrounded by the positive energy that I once had. Peanut shows her affection when I walk in the door, but utltimately I have to be the one that keeps me going and energized about what I do every day.&lt;br /&gt;Yes I have people here that tell me I'm doing a good job, but it's not daily, it's just when they see me do something they approve of. But I'm just as guilty, I don't always go up to everyone I know and give them a pat on the back just for the heck of it. Maybe that's something I should start doing though. Just go up to people and tell them their doing a good job...we'll see...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115800281276578131?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115800281276578131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115800281276578131' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115800281276578131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115800281276578131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/09/give-me-some-credit.html' title='Give Me Some Credit'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115755311569858518</id><published>2006-09-06T09:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T09:31:55.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe This Year Will be Better Than The Last...</title><content type='html'>I'm going to copy a little from &lt;a href="http://laurendiane.blogspot.com/"&gt;Lauren's&lt;/a&gt; post because it triggered some feelings that I've been having as well.&lt;br /&gt;I took this line from "Long December" and have used it in many different ways. I had a friend that was killed from drinking and driving in High School and I put this in a card to his parents, I've also used it in just letter's to friends or in passing of aquaintances.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;I can't remember all the times I tried to tell my myself &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;To hold on to these moments as they pass &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;~ Counting Crows&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so simple, but so hard at times. We always think we're always going to have these "moments", that they'll never leave us. We (or I) don't think about the little things as they're happening.  They don't even have to be these amazing moments, they could just be getting a starbucks with a friend or meeting up with a family member at a bar, or watching the stars while laying on the roof. I know I appreciate all these actions, but do I really "take it all in"? I don't know, I would like to think I do, but I just don't know.&lt;br /&gt;Even with my job, I know I won't be here at this place for ever, but am I really soaking up every detail of the good times? I know I'm not, because I just alway assume there will be a next one and so I don't really think about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does it take to actually think about holding on to these "moments"? What do we do with these moments in time? Webster defines a &lt;strong&gt;moment&lt;/strong&gt; as: a point of time. That's all it is, is a point of time. We can't really save time or make it longer, it's just there. We need to be aware of these moments and cherish them. We should never take our time here for granted. Even little simple activities are here for us and we should appreciate them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when a breeze hits your face, or a friend wants a coffee, or a friend needs a ride...any little thing. Stop and breathe it in and be happy to do it because it may not always be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;A long December and there's reason to believe &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Maybe this year will be better than the last&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I can't remember the last thing that you said as you were leaven' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Now the days go by so fast&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;And it's one more day up in the canyons &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;And it's one more night in Hollywood&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;If you think that I could be forgiven...I wish you would &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;The smell of hospitals in winter &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;And the feeling that it's all a lot of oysters, but no pearls&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;All at once you look across a crowded room&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;To see the way that light attaches to a girl &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;And it's one more day up in the canyons&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;And it's one more night in Hollywood &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;If you think you might come to California...I think you should &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Drove up to Hillside Manor sometime after two a.m. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;And talked a little while about the year &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;And it's been a long December and there's reason to believe &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Maybe this year will be better than the last &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I can't remember all the times I tried to tell my myself &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;To hold on to these moments as they pass &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;And it's one more day up in the canyon &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;And it's one more night in Hollywood &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;It's been so long since I've seen the ocean...I guess I should&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;~Counting Crows&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115755311569858518?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115755311569858518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115755311569858518' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115755311569858518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115755311569858518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/09/maybe-this-year-will-be-better-than.html' title='Maybe This Year Will be Better Than The Last...'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115748458964817547</id><published>2006-09-05T14:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T14:29:49.703-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Love to Listen</title><content type='html'>I am just so excited that there are so many great songs on the radio now. I feel like we had been going threw a dry spell for sometime, but there are just so many great new songs out there. Last night while I was driving back from San Antonio I didn't even have to put in a CD because every time I would change the radio station, a good song was on. I usually have to listen to a few CD's on that drive because nothing I like is ever on...whew...I love it. Plus today, it hasn't gotten warmer than 72 degrees (I don't know what's going on), so I drove to work and back for lunch and back to work with the window's down. I LOVE driving with the windows down. I even got a little chilly...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Spinning on that dizzy edge&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I kissed her face and kissed her head&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;And dreamed of all the different ways I had&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;To make her glow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;"Why are you so far away?" she said&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;"Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;That I'm in love with you?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;~The Cure&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note...life is good. Changes are in progress and I have things to look forward to.&lt;br /&gt;I got to spend a few nights at home, which was nice because I won't get to do that for a while now. Did LOT'S of bonding with the brother's, I was even brave enough to go and talk to this guy from back hom that I've had a crush on for a while. It really wasn't anything, I just think he's pretty cute, and I never talk to him because well...I'm a chicken and he's a few years older than I am. But I sucked it up and we talked for a good 30 minutes, nothing special, but at least I can't say that I didn't do it. Hopefully that'll make me brave enough to do it again...maybe not with him, but just with guys in general. I'm trying to step out of the box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom made me clean out my room at their house because she wants to do some rearranging...so I had to go through about four boxes of stuff (aka: Crap). I'm such a saver, I so much silly stuff in those boxes. But I found old pictures and back packs and year books...it  was a little easier to throw some of that stuff out than I thought...so now I need to try and do that here in Georgetown, I have so much "STUFF" that I don't need and it just sits around collecting dust. Hopefully I can make myself sift through all the stuff I don't need. I think it'll just freshen things up a bit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115748458964817547?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115748458964817547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115748458964817547' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115748458964817547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115748458964817547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/09/love-to-listen.html' title='Love to Listen'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115695253677612410</id><published>2006-08-30T10:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T10:42:18.380-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Where's my head at?</title><content type='html'>I must be losing it!! I have just had one of those weeks where I seem to be in another place than where I should be.&lt;br /&gt;Monday morning when I was leaving for work I noticed that my door was unlocked. I NEVER leave my door unlocked. As long as I've been living by myself I always lock at least one of the three locks as soon as I shut the door behind me when I come home. At night I lock both dead bolt, I used to latch the chain, but I don't anymore because I feel it's a waste of time.  That's the second time I've woken up with my door unlocked. I don't really expect anyone to climb the three flights of stairs to "rob" me, I have nothing to rob, except my TV...but that's too much energy for any robber. It just kind of shocked me that I actually forgot to lock my door. I always lock the door even when I have company, it's just habit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, last night I was for some reason unusually tired when I was coming home from Kyle's.  I got home, locked the door, and seriously, just went straight to bed. Of course I brushed my teeth and washed my face...and then went straight to my bed. This morning the sun is blinding and me and I'm thinking...that's weird, the sun isn't usually that bright when I wake up. Well, I was right, the sun isn't that bright when I wake up because it was 40 minutes after I usually get up. That's right, I forgot to set my alarm last night. So instead of waking up at 7:20, I woke up at 8:00...Needless to say, I took a very quick shower (which meant, no washing of the hair...I hate not having clean hair), got dressed and walked out the door. I'm wearing my hair in a pony tail today...I NEVER wear my hair in a pony tail...I guess it's not because I don't like pony tails, but I get headaches whenever I wear my hair any other way than just plain down. So I can already feel the small aches coming on, but I'm trying to push through them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly...I've been dropping things a lot. Like my depth perseption is just really off for some reason. I've stumbled on steps, had to reach for my bottle water a couple times because for some reason I keep missing it, and I just can't seem to keep a grip on things. It's really weird. It's not like I've been a little clumbsy here and there, it's that I've just been &lt;em&gt;off&lt;/em&gt;...I don't know how to explain it.&lt;br /&gt;It's been a weird few days. I guess I'm just that distracted with everything right now. Lot's of personal stuff that I'm keeping locked up...and then my job is stressing the heck out of me. Looks like another vacation is in order. Good thing I get a 4 day weekend this weekend, I'm ready for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways...maybe I need to start taking vitamins or somthing so that I can get back on track. I don't want ro really lose my mind...not yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Where's your head at? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;We can't live on, live on without you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;We can't live on, live on without you!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;-Basement Jaxx&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115695253677612410?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115695253677612410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115695253677612410' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115695253677612410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115695253677612410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/08/wheres-my-head-at.html' title='Where&apos;s my head at?'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115679139159969745</id><published>2006-08-28T13:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-29T10:42:05.213-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pieces of Me</title><content type='html'>My Dad has been participating in A.C.T.S. retreats for a couple of years now. It's through the Catholic church and it has to do with ACTS 2:42-47; &lt;em&gt;breaking bread together, worshipping together, receiving instruction together, sharing in common, and reaching out in loving service&lt;/em&gt;. He went to one as a participant and now he has been helping to lead ones for youth. He's done a few of them throughout the past couple years and always has stories to tell me about them. It's our way of bonding, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They always do skits at the retreats and he loves telling me about these. So far I have been able to relate with a lot of the skits he shares with me, but this past one just gave me the goosebumps and I am going to give you the short version of how I remember it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It starts off with a girl on a dark stage with a huge paper heart around her neck.&lt;br /&gt;Her boyfriend comes on and they get into an argument and break up and he rips a piece of her heart and takes it with him.&lt;br /&gt;Then her Dad walks in and yells at her for not making all A's on her report cards and walks away with a piece of her heart.&lt;br /&gt;And it goes on like this for a while and her heart is just ripped to shreds. So she has pieces of her heart all over the place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Jesus walks in with a brand new heart for her and he tells her how Jesus is always in her heart and has a brand new heart with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like that sometime I have a piece of my heart all over the place and I'm not left with much. A part of me is back in Floresville, pieces are spread out in San Antonio, Georgetown, South Carolina, Michigan, TLU...I'm spread out pretty thin. And even though I work at a church, sometimes I don't always feel like Jesus is standing over me with this huge heart just for me. I wish I could get that feelings, I just don't know how to get there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115679139159969745?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115679139159969745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115679139159969745' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115679139159969745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115679139159969745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/08/pieces-of-me.html' title='Pieces of Me'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115678258341206968</id><published>2006-08-28T11:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-28T11:38:34.376-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And she falls down trying...</title><content type='html'>Yet another weekend of my life was spent in San Antonio, I seem to be going there a lot lately when I find myself not at work. It's a soothing and familiar place to me and I'm actually happy when I'm there.&lt;br /&gt;While I do not have to work on Friday's most other people with normal hours do. So I treated myself to the movies and while watching this movie something really dawned on me. It was weird because as I was sitting in the dark theater I just had one of those "that's what it is" moments. I figured out why I was never comfortable in a relationship: I have always been scared of not being able to live up to how other people see me. I'm just me, and I always think that people see me differently. Like they see me as someone who is always put together and knows what she wants out of life and is always happy and easy to get along with. When really...I'm a mess, I'm a lot different from what I may seem to be like, I never think I'm as pretty as other girls, and I'm not always easy to get along with. But who isn't all these things? We all have our moments. Whatever...I just need to learn to be "ME" and have people know that I can be all sorts of crazy because what you see is not always what you get...know what I mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to my sweet LD, like you always tell me, someone will love me for all my craziness and someone will love you for all your craziness! It will be easy and though there will be trying times, it won't be too much to work through.&lt;br /&gt;I've fallen down so many times trying so hard to impress people and make people happy and do what I feel is right, that sometimes it's just a kick in the face. If we have to try that hard, then it's just not worth it if people don't see us for who we are. Just remember: When a newborn chick thinks it's whole world is collapsing it's just the beginning of a new and wonderful life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;"And she falls down tryin'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Yeah she falls down cryin'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;And she tells me that she does it all for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;When the clouds come and the rain falls, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;When there's nothing here to hold on, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Will I be there is the question from you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;-Familiar 48&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115678258341206968?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115678258341206968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115678258341206968' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115678258341206968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115678258341206968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/08/and-she-falls-down-trying.html' title='And she falls down trying...'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115634274356479232</id><published>2006-08-23T09:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-23T09:19:03.610-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Yesterday...</title><content type='html'>...all my troubles seemed so far away, Now it look as though they're here to stay, Oh, I believe in yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;It's funny how one word can make a song pop into your head...this Beatle's song is my "yesterday" song...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you asked me what I did yesterday, this is what I would tell you: I went to a sneak Preview of BeerFest!! How exciting. I've never gotten to see a movie before it came out. Well it was only 2 days before it comes out...but that's a big deal for me. Plus, it was at the Alamo Draft House and that just has good times written all over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went with my friend Wes, we grew up down the street from each other and went to high school together and all that good stuff. Well, his girlfriend's cousin somehow got a few free passes to the movie and Wes invited me along. It was nice to hang out with a familiar person...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to talking about how we both want to move closer to home eventually. I mean, I do love the Austin area, but it's just not "&lt;em&gt;home&lt;/em&gt;". Now I don't feel as guilty about wanting to be closer to family and friends...because I'm not the only one thinking about it. I know once I move back to the San Antonio area I'm really going to miss being close to Austin, but that's just how life goes. We also got to play a little foosball afterwards...I'm learning some "moves" so watch out...I've never really had that much fun playing that game, but once I kind of knew what I was doing...it can be quite entertaining!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115634274356479232?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115634274356479232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115634274356479232' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115634274356479232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115634274356479232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/08/yesterday.html' title='Yesterday...'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115625727319424053</id><published>2006-08-22T09:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-22T09:48:46.613-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Let It Go...</title><content type='html'>I've never thought of myself to hold a grudge against anyone...I'm one of those forgive and forget and lets be friends again...I'm having a hard time with that right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a phone call from a friend this weekend to give me some info for our spa day on Saturday in San Antonio...well I asked if anyone was doing anything exciting on Thursday or Friday night before the spa day that I needed to come in early for. . .That's when it hit me like a brick wall. Something about Travis and this other girl maybe doing something...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now Travis and I have a little history together, nothing big, I think we went out a couple times in high school. But he's always been the boy that I look back on and think of how much I liked him and if things were different...blah blah blah...I've definitely had a crush on him since high school, but then he moved to Colorado and then he joined the Marines and life just got in the way, you know what I mean.&lt;br /&gt;Well in June he poured his "heart" out to me about how has always had this huge crush on me and how much he liked me and wanted to "try" and start something with me and how his family already loves me and he didn't care that I lived in Georgetown, and I told him how I felt and how I've waited to hear him say that, blah blah blah...well as you know that got shot to shit...and YES it did hurt, but I got over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing that's bothering me, is that he been dating this girl since like the week after he told me all those things. Who does that? All of a sudden just change your feelings and move on to the next one, it takes me longer than a week to do that...And I'm friends with this girl and I'm going to have to spend the day with her on Saturday and I can already see myself being a little stand-off-ish around her and I don't want to be that way. I guess it's more because I like this girl and I don't want her to get hurt because I know this guy can be a jerk...I don't know maybe it's different this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or...maybe I'm just jealous because I'm always the girl that gets shit on and not the one that guys just drop what they're doing to hang out with me...you know. I'm just ready for my turn. And I don't want to be all emotional when I go and hang out with all these girls this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a yucky feeling. Does everyone else have this much drama in their lives, because sometimes I feel like I'm just a magnet for it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wish I was strong enough to let all this stuff just slip right off of me...I would feel so much better if I would let it go and not dwell on it. I mean, guys seem to just let it go...why is it harder for girls to do the same?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115625727319424053?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115625727319424053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115625727319424053' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115625727319424053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115625727319424053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/08/just-let-it-go.html' title='Just Let It Go...'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115582944328979370</id><published>2006-08-17T10:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-17T10:44:03.656-05:00</updated><title type='text'>NUMB</title><content type='html'>You can't even imagine how much I hurt having to come back to my empty apartment.  EVERY TIME I got to San Antonio I have a hard time leaving. I can already forsee how bad these next couple days will be. I always feel like I'm leaving a piece of me back there, or that I forgot to do something while I was there and now I have to wait until the next time I back to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole drive back last night I just had this numb feeling, like I didn't care what happened to me...I could get in a car accident and I would have been fine with it.  Being out of commission for a while. I just feel like I'm going through the motions right now and not actually doing ANYTHING. I get up take a shower go to work do my job and it just feels like I've doing nothing. I blink my eyes and the day is over and I don't remember doing anything...I just do it. I don't feel anything anymore. No emotions, no energy, no feeling...nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My stomach has just been in knots and I can't eat. Now I'm back in the routine of my life here in G-Town...and the depression sinks in. I never realized how rough life can get.&lt;br /&gt;Plus I get on this huge high of being around people I love for so long and then "BAMM" I'm back to just me and peanut in my apartment...now I love that girl...but it's difficult on me sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus I think I'm pissed that I didn't get to see a certain person while I was there...now I know it's better that way, but at the same time...I just think it would have made the trip a little more enjoyable...but then I would just get back here and beat myself up about it because I'm such a FOOL at times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always seem to set myself up for disappointment. I put myself in these situations where I know I'm going to get hurt...yet I can't stop myself. What's wrong with me? I am just a complete Idiot at times. I need to quit being a people pleaser and just do my thing...but I hate when other people aren't happy...no matter how unhappy it makes me. I really just need a change in my life...something to make ME happy. But I don't know what will make me happy. Sometimes I think I know what it is ...but it usually is a false sense of happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just need something to make that tense feeling go away to where I can be comfortable with life again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115582944328979370?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115582944328979370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115582944328979370' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115582944328979370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115582944328979370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/08/numb.html' title='NUMB'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115578268748969763</id><published>2006-08-16T21:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T21:44:47.516-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Question</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I Love you so she says &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;As she stops her thoughts and turns her head &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I guess I am not supposed to care. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Well I'm no good, I don't belong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I don't know how I made it this far alone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I should not be here today. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;And she falls down tryin', &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Yeah she falls down cryin'. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;And she tells me that she does it all for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;When the clouds come, and the rain falls, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;When there's nothing here to hold on. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Will I be there is the question from you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Understood so afraid, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;As I stop myself and throw my thoughts away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;You dont know the way i feel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Say I'm no good, I dont belong,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I don't know how i made i this far alone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I will not apologize, no no.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;And she falls down tryin'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Yeah she falls down cryin'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;And she tells me that she does it all for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;When the clouds come and the rain falls, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;When there's nothing here to hold on, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Will I be there is the question from you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;When you look to me, you know I will be there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;And I hold on to the feelings we both share&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I wont let go, I'll catch if you fall.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;When the clouds come and the rain falls, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;When there's nothing here to hold on, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Will I be there is the question from you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;When the clouds come, and the rain falls, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;When there's nothing here to hold on, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Will I be there, is the question for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;~Familiar 48&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115578268748969763?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115578268748969763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115578268748969763' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115578268748969763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115578268748969763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/08/question.html' title='The Question'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115575014750744380</id><published>2006-08-16T12:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T12:42:27.676-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Is It Like This?</title><content type='html'>Lunch with Nane (that's what we call our grandmother) was nice. We ended up staying with her for like four hours. I don't think I've ever been around her when it was just a couple people. It's always been at family functions surrounded by tons of other poeple. So it was really cool to get some quality time with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She likes to talk about our Grandfather alot which is very cool. He will have been gone for 11 years this year. That's crazy. It was a little sad though for her to be telling us how she still thinks about him every day...very sweet. He was a wonderful wonderful man. But I can see how much she misses him. She remarried this guy a little while after my Grandfather died because she's not someone that can really live by herself...so it's good and bad at the same time...but that's a whole other story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time I'm around her she always brings up that fact that we're not married or any where near being married. She's 80 and doesn't really think before she speaks, she just kind of tells it like it is. She's convinced my&lt;a href="http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2005/05/lids-pots-and-stoves-oh-my.html"&gt; "Lid"&lt;/a&gt; is out there, which I'm sure it is. I just don't want to think about it right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why isn't that our whole lifes is about finding that one person to spend the rest of your life with? And why is it such a big deal to every body else? Why can't we just be happy with our lives and just live...I don't think our life should be based on the fact that you need to find someone to marry. Not that I don't want that...but don't bug me about why I'm not dating anyone and ask me when I'm going to "settle down". For goodness sakes I'm only 24...This is my time. Yes, it's a lonely time...but it's still my time. I life isn't going to be filled with looking and searching and being sad that all my friends are married when I'm not. I just needed a little time to vent after that encounter yesterday.  I just need another vacation to get away from everything....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115575014750744380?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115575014750744380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115575014750744380' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115575014750744380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115575014750744380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/08/why-is-it-like-this.html' title='Why Is It Like This?'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115565759118580520</id><published>2006-08-15T10:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T10:59:51.210-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What can I say</title><content type='html'>What can I say? I have been having just a wonderful couple days. I love coming to San Antonio and being around people that I like. I really needed these few days off...I which I could have traveled...but I'll stop bringing that up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday night was great. I got to hang out with two of my brothers and this awesome little bar...there were other people there. But I just like that we can hang out together and be civil towards each other. Plus one of my brother's was bragging about me and how much he loves me...that NEVER happens. It kind of puts a warm tingle in your heart! Anyways...we shut that place down. It was awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Monday, Cory and I decided to be tourists in San Antonio...after we woke up at about 11:30 we finally showered and ate and all that good stuff, then went downtown...took some pictures of the Alamo walked in the courtyard around it and then walked the River Walk for a bit. It was awesome, I walked around with my big camera around my neck taking pictures of lots of things....those will come at a later time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went home to Floresville for dinner because it was mom's birthday. We had a nice little family meal and just talked...it was a nice little catch up time. I love doing that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then last night I got to meet up with Josh and Derek!! Yeah, I love those guys. It's so weird, I don't think I've seen Derek since the SuperBowl in February and it's like we've never been apart. I love friends like that. We just dove right back into our usuall witty banter. It was just so nice. Plus we got to have some serious talks as well. He's going through some "times" right now and as for me...well there's always drama. I think I'm a magnet for it...I don't know. All I know is that I don't think life is supposed to be as hard as we make it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways...now my brother and I are on our way to our Grandmother's for some lunch. Yea...more family time!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115565759118580520?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115565759118580520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115565759118580520' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115565759118580520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115565759118580520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/08/what-can-i-say.html' title='What can I say'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115522031404537683</id><published>2006-08-10T09:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-10T09:31:54.530-05:00</updated><title type='text'>That Feeling</title><content type='html'>You know that feeling when you're nervous or excited or worried...where your stomach's in knots and your chest feels really tight? I've had that feeling for a couple days now and it's driving me crazy. I just want it to go away. I sort of know what's causing it, but I don't know how to fix it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish life wasn't so hard. I hate how good my life can be at times and then just all of a sudden it's not good enough...there's no one to share it with and sitting in my empty apartment doesn't make it any better. Yes, I have friends around...but it's not the same. I'm so ready for a change, but I'm so scared to make any changes in my life because I know right now everything is taken care of. I'm still having a hard time being so far from everyone that means alot to me. You would think after 2 and a half years, I would starat to find things a little more comfortable. The first year was Awesome, it was new and exciting. The second year was so hard and Lauren can vouch for me on this one...I hated it. Crying three times a day because I missed everyone and had such difficult time. This year has gotten to be a little better. But Sunday night I found myself just as vulnerable. I was crying during every stupid TV show I was watching. Granted one of those shows was Extreme Make-Over Home Edition, seriously how can you watch that show and not cry. Anyways...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm just "hitting a wall" because I haven't really taken time for myself this year. I'm fixing that and taking a couple days off next week to spend some time with my brother. We had planned on going to the beach, but that fell through so I think we're going to stay downtown and see what that has to offer us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'm just coming off this Birthday "high" as well. It's funny how people come out of the wood work for one day out of the year to appreciate you. Now I'm not saying I have to be appreciated everyday of the year...but it's weird how you don't hear from people for so long and then all of a sudden you're just bombarded with emails and phone calls and it makes you feel nice and then it's all over for another year. Why aren't people that friendly all the time? I guess I'm one to talk...I'm not good at stuff like that either. I have a hard enough time just picking up the phone and calling friends. I always feel like I'm bothering them...but when people call me I always make time for them. I hate how my mind thinks sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well my nervous feeling isn't going away and I'm hoping I can figure out a way to stop it, but I Think it's just gonna take some time...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115522031404537683?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115522031404537683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115522031404537683' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115522031404537683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115522031404537683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/08/that-feeling.html' title='That Feeling'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115505149566606858</id><published>2006-08-08T10:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-08T10:38:15.816-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/birthdaycrown.0.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/birthdaycrown.0.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yea, I get to celebrate my birthday as a princess!!&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115505149566606858?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115505149566606858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115505149566606858' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115505149566606858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115505149566606858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/08/yea-i-get-to-celebrate-my-birthday-as.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115496147604296239</id><published>2006-08-07T09:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-07T09:38:04.750-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Needed That</title><content type='html'>I had one of the greatest weekends I've had in a while. I mean I had one really awesome one last month...but this one was much needed.&lt;br /&gt;It started by making a trip home to Floresville, mostly because I'm greedy and I really wanted my birthday present from my parents. I was a little mad on the drive home because I had to work until 6:00 that night and I still had to go to my apartment to finish packing. Anyways...I got home around 8:30, which isn't bad and then just sat around with my parents until about 11:00 just catching up. The next day was nice, I went into town, got my car inspected, watched my cousin's son take swim lessons, went to lunch with my mom and then did a little shopping with her after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then went back home to get ready because we were going to go into San Antonio for dinner that evening. When my mom got off of work she gave me my presents!!! I got new dishes, which I knew I was getting because my mom had already spilled the beans. Anyways I was very excited...they're red on the top part and black underneath. YEA!! Just what I asked for. AND...I got a power drill!! That was a bonus. I had asked for that too...but I didn't realize I was going to get two presents!! Anyways... back to why my weekend was so wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lindsay got to meet up with us for dinner which was awesome because I don't get to see her as much as I used to. So after we ate we decided to walk the mall to waste some time...after making a couple laps we went into the Cheesecake factory for a nice "girly" drink at the bar. Girly meaning they were fruity and $8.00. I know, that's ridiculous for one drink, but it was delicious and definitely worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, then we drove to Sherlocks to meet up with some friends from college, on my way to the bar I called a few more people to come and meet us there. I called Chad (a youth director friend), but he was in Dallas at some ball game, then I called Chris, but his sister was in town and was haning with her, then I called Travis (some of you may also know him as T-diddy)...I don't know why I did because I know he never answers the phone when I call him, but I figured I would give it a shot, so I just left him a message to meet up with us and of course...never called and never showed. I don't know why I put myself through stuff like that. So fine...no one wants to come meet up with my for my birthday, that's fine, I'm cool with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Lindsay and I decide to share a pitcher of Blue Moon...I never had it, and now I really like it. So that was exciting. Then our friend Josh shows up and Lindsay's boyfriend Pyle came too...so us four just sat around for a long while and did some more catching up. It was so nice...just like old times. I loved it. I think I turned to Josh like 5 different times and just said "I'm so excited that we're all haning out right now!!". I really was. I miss that group of friends. So then Josh decides that it's time to go somewhere different, so I ride with him to the Flying Saucer. It was a good 15 minute drive so we got to talk just the two of us. Which was nice, we talked about girls and boys and what's going on with them in our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to write about the whole night...then we go back to Lindsays to crash. I have a hard time sleeping when it's not my bed or apartment, so I laid on her fold out couch and talked on the phone. My brother and I are trying to get a vacation planned for next week...so far, we're lame because nothing is really coming up...but I have those three 1/2 days already taken off...so I'm doing something!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, so I get up and go have lunch with my brother Cory before I head back to Georgetown. That drive was a great drive too because I got to talk to Lauren!! Yea, I miss you girl. Anyways, our conversations is 90% about boys...that's just how girls are. Apparently she has ruffled some feathers with one of the blogs she wrote. But Boys, just so you know, that blog was not aimed at one certain person and we both want you to know that. It was just a culmination of different circumstances that have happened to the both of us in the past couple years. It wasn't written to place blame on one single person it was just a statement of what has been struggles for us when it comes to guys. So please, don't think she was out to get you or make you question your feelings or actions...it was just written to be written. OK! Girls can sometimes "fall" a little quicker than guys do, and we just want you all to know that. One little phone call that is just a simple hello could really mean the world to the other person and we just want you to be aware of what you could be doing to someone's feelings, even if it isn't on purpose...OK...enough on that subject.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday afternoon was nice and lazy...I got back around 3:00ish I guess and I laid on my couch for most of that afternoon. The next thing that made my weekend so wonderful were the random phone calls that I got. That afternoon my friend Wes called me. We went on a couple dates right after I graduated high school, but it was no big deal. But he just called to see how I was doing, which was really nice. It's just nice to know that people that you don't see except maybe on certain holiday's think about you periodically...Then I crash early, because I didn't get much sleep that couples nights before...and my phone rings at like 4:40 a.m. Who calls that late or that early?!! Well it was my friend Justin who moved to Arizona. He NEVER calls either. I haven't talked to him or seen him since last year at a friends wedding. He said he was just going to leave a message, but I know I wouldn't have called him back and it would have been nice to talk to him...so we chatted for like 8 minutes just doing a little catch up. I still don't know why he decided to call me, but he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little things like that just really make my day. Then Sunday was awesome, my sponser Mrs. Davenport took me to lunch and then to the movies. We saw "You Me and Dupree". It was pretty good. I had a good time. Then later that night my cousin calls me too, he's pretty good about calling every now and then to catch up.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways...it was just a great weekend of seeing/hanging out with old friends and then getting all these random phone calls. It was just nice. I needed a weekend like that to know that there are people out there that care/love me because sometimes when I'm up here I don't really get that all the time. It was a nice boost of reassurance. I also came to another realization...but I can't speak of that for a few more months...maybe January or February...whenever I get comfortable enough to let it out...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115496147604296239?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115496147604296239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115496147604296239' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115496147604296239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115496147604296239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-needed-that.html' title='I Needed That'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115463979669813081</id><published>2006-08-03T16:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-07T11:17:04.520-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What What...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://laurendiane.blogspot.com/2006/08/listen-up-boys.html"&gt;Preach it sister &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115463979669813081?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115463979669813081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115463979669813081' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115463979669813081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115463979669813081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/08/what-what.html' title='What What...'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115452777508706250</id><published>2006-08-02T08:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-02T10:35:40.733-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Life in General</title><content type='html'>When people ask me where I see myself in 5 or 10 years, the first thing that comes to my mind is "HAPPY". It's not that I'm not happy right now with my life...it's just that I feel I could be happier at times. I pray by the time I'm 29 or 30 I'm hoping to be married. I've noticed that girls future always seem to revolve around being married and starting a family. I wonder why that is...and boys seem to think about their job and success when it comes to the future. Why don't I think of my future in terms of my job? I love my job, I really do, but I don't see myself doing this forever. I don't see myself going "forward" in this field with a higher position. So I'm content. I see my future as being a mother and raising a family and then seeing where my place is. I know for a fact that I am NO WHERE near being ready to be married and definitely don't want children any time soon...I just wish I knew for certain that it was somewhere in my future. Just to know that it will happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also not much of a "dater". I'm not one of those girls that dates guys just so that I don't have to be alone. I'm very independent, And I'm very proud of myself for that. But sometimes I feel like I"m missing out on something by not seeing what's out there. I'm very picky when it comes to who I share things with and so if I've shared any sort of personal feelings or emotions with you, consider yourself lucky because I don't "waste" my time on just anyone. It takes a lot to get even questions or thoughts of feelings out of me. I'm a very "to myself" type of person and don't just go around opening up to everyone I come into contact with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if it's because I have three brothers and so I'm used to being surrounded by guys...but never to actually open up to them about what's going on in my head. And that makes me scared to be in an emotional relationship with any guy, because I know my bro's are sometimes a little to over baring. (I have had brother's tell guys to not to call me anymore just because they didn't like them). But they've definitely gotten better when it comes to me discussing boys with them...whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I just feel like sometimes I'm running out of steam. I mean, I've lived in this same town for over two years and I feel like I haven't really experienced all the things I should have being the age I am and being single. I hope I haven't missed out on anything. I also just don't' want to be that girl that's always alone...sometimes I'm scared that that is where my life is leading me because I've gotten so used to living alone and doing everything on my own. And at the same time I like knowing that I don't have to rely on anyone to survive. I can take care of myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess, also, I'm just going through a confusing time in my life. As much as I love the independence, life sometimes gets lonely. Especially when friends are so far away. Even though Lauren is in South Carolina we still stay updated regularly on each others lives and are still just as close as we were before she left. Which gives me strength/faith/confidence that even though people are hundreds of miles away they can still last/work/survive. I love that girl so much and don't know what I would do without her. She definitely is one of the Rocks in my life and she gets tons of &lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;Gold Stars&lt;/span&gt; for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess my point is that life is confusing and full of unknowns and always will be. That's the beauty of it...its full of surprises and we never know what will happen next in our journey through life. All we can do is trust that God has this amazing plan for us and enjoy every day we have, cherish our friends and family and always tell people how you feel about them because we never know what's going to happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So to all my friends out there, I love you, and wish nothing but happiness for you and pray that God blesses your every thought and actions and give you peace of mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115452777508706250?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115452777508706250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115452777508706250' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115452777508706250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115452777508706250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/08/life-in-general.html' title='Life in General'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115445128773662496</id><published>2006-08-01T11:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-01T11:54:47.776-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Got What I Need</title><content type='html'>I always complain that I never have enough money. But of course it's my own fault.  I like to buy stuff...stuff that I don't need. On Fridays while everyone else is working, I get bored, so I got shopping. Not necessarily for anything, but so that I can get out of my apartment.  I just seem to always find something that I want or sometimes something that I need, and I buy it. There's always money in my account, so I don't usually think twice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have an easier time buying for other people. If it's a gift, or if I just feel like buying someone something, it's just easier to spend on other people than it is for myself. Not that I don't buy myself stuff...but you know what I mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I complain to my mom that my rent is high and that my phone bill is ridiculous and that I should be putting more money towards my student loans and give more to the church. But I always seem to have enough money. I have absolutely nothing to compain about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I caught the end of Oprah on Friday and it was about a couple that was going to see what it was like to live off of minimum wage for 30 days. Apparently it's very difficult. They barely have enough money for food and rent, and heaven forbid they have to take a trip to the doctor. That alone put them in debt for another three months. I need to be happy that I don't have to worry about where my next paycheck will come from or if it's going to be enough to cover all my bills. I know my paycheck will cover my bills and that I'll still have enough left over to "entertain" myself. And I am happy with my life and how everything is going...sometimes I just get that little selfish bug in me that wants to be spoiled. I just like knowing that everything is and will be taken care of for me...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115445128773662496?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115445128773662496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115445128773662496' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115445128773662496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115445128773662496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-got-what-i-need.html' title='I Got What I Need'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115436525539503257</id><published>2006-07-31T11:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-31T12:00:55.606-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost in Translation</title><content type='html'>I'm going to be a girl and start off with..."So, there's this guy..."&lt;br /&gt;I hate doing that, but I feel if I at least get it out, then it won't be bothering me inside as much. I've known him for a while now (we went to college together) and have been talking to him on the phone pretty frequently.  I know it doesn't sound like a big deal, but it is to me. We've mentioned that we both have crushes on each other and got that out in the open and ever since then is when we've been talking on a more regular basis. So here's the thing...he's out of state. (Of course he is...I seem to have that kind of luck...but at least his state is closer than Michigan and Wisconsin, those were just way too far.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's my thing, I'm really starting to like him but I know he's hundred's of miles away. I just with I knew what was going on in his mind. I don't want to waste all these emotions on nothing, you know. I get excited when he calls, and I don't want to get like that if it's not for anything.  I know not much can happen right now, but we could build on to something. I don't know. I've never really brought it up to him either because he doesn't really have much spare time to call and when he does it's while he's at work or in the middle of something and can only talk for a few minutes. You can't really bring up personal stuff like that when your surrounded by other people and distracted by work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways...it's fun for now and I'll roll with it and see where it goes. I just hate having all these unanswered questions swimming through my head...but that's just how girls function...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yea...I went to another &lt;a href="http://beckyalynpics.blogspot.com/"&gt;wedding&lt;/a&gt; this weekend!! Good times, lots of old friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115436525539503257?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115436525539503257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115436525539503257' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115436525539503257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115436525539503257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/07/lost-in-translation.html' title='Lost in Translation'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115385872638783675</id><published>2006-07-25T15:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T15:18:46.450-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What does it all mean?</title><content type='html'>I've always been that friend who everyone comes to when they need some advice or just someone to talk to. That was my role in high school, in college and even now. For some reason, that's just been my place in my circle of friends. Anyways...I guess I can give as much "advice" as I can, but sometimes you just need a guys perspective on things and I can't really do that right now, seeing as I'm a girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have this friend who's been getting phone calls from one of her guy friends almost daily for a while now. So my thinking as a girl (because we read into EVERYTHING) is that he must like her, right? Why else would he call her that much.  Actually I know he likes her, but there's a distance issue that I'm not even going to get into because my past experiences with out of state boys never really worked out. Anyways. But at the same time I don't want her to read too much into anything because I don't really know what's going on in this guys head. I don't want her to waste any emotions on it if it's not a big deal. I guess my question to all you guys is - why would someone call so much? If she invests any feelings for no reason - I would feel really bad for her. My thoughts are: I wouldn't call someone so much if I wasn't expecting anything or trying to invest in a "future"...but that's just me. I know they're just quick phone calls, but still, they're frequent. Whatever...she'll figure something out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note, I talked with my brother Cory last night because we want to take a vacation to somewhere. So far, a plane ticket anywhere is ridiculously expensive and I need to save that money for my trip to South Carolina this fall. So we may end up just going to Port Aransas for a few days. I still have all my two weeks of vacation left so I really wanted to get out of here for a long while-if possible. Just wish everything didn't cost so much. But rest assure, there will be a vacation to somewhere at sometime, and Good Times will be had!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115385872638783675?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115385872638783675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115385872638783675' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115385872638783675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115385872638783675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/07/what-does-it-all-mean.html' title='What does it all mean?'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115375454380966643</id><published>2006-07-24T10:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-24T10:22:23.836-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing to Fear but Fear Itself</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Fear:&lt;/strong&gt; An unpleasant often strong emotion caused by anticipation or awareness of danger.-Anxious Concern&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Scared:&lt;/strong&gt; Thrown into or being in a state of fear, fright or panic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all have things that we fear or are scared of. My fear in life used to be of not finding something that would make me happy or finding someone to love me...or walking sticks (I am terrified of walking sticks and spiders). Now, I am still fearful of the future and of what it holds - I'm curious as to who I will spend the rest of my life with and if I will ever find that someone, and when it will happen. I see so many 'happy couples' and I still go out with my friends as the only single person and it makes me feel a little sad at times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've lived by myself for so long that I sometimes feel like I'm almost destined to stay alone - but that fear is being over powered by another fear. I'm constantly in fear, looking over my shoulder, checking the peep-hole before I open the door, having people walk me to my car. I have a criminal trespassing warning out on this guy, to where he can't step on church or my apartment complex property.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was going to church on Sunday morning he was just sitting there on the church property line. That's it, just sitting. He knows his limits and he definitely pushes them. I was just very uncomfortable with him sitting there. I had to drive by a couple of times before I had enough strength to pull into the parking lot. I hate having that feeling in the pit of my stomach. I shoudn't have to worry about going to work in the mornings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate being nervous all the time. Now one should have to live like this and be scared to go anywhere. I'm hoping these warnings will help because I just want to go back ot how my life used to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115375454380966643?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115375454380966643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115375454380966643' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115375454380966643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115375454380966643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/07/nothing-to-fear-but-fear-itself.html' title='Nothing to Fear but Fear Itself'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115350777089148783</id><published>2006-07-21T13:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-21T13:49:30.966-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Next Step</title><content type='html'>This morning the next step was taken regarding the situation going on in my life. I had a Detective Sergeant come and speak with me this morning about how he feels about what is going on. Since he was concerned...that made me concerned. Because this is a rough/tough guy, so that was a little scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we sat down with some men from church and discussed what needed to happen and we decided that a criminal restraint is the best shot for now. Which means he cannot come onto the church property or my complex property, and if he does step foot on a blade of grass I can call the cops and they will take care of him. So I hope that was a good thing for me to have done and it's not something that will upset him to do anything inappropriate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So basically I've just had this nervous feeling in my stomach all day long. Looking around corners and checking behind me when I walk around. It's uncomfortable, but I hope that will do something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115350777089148783?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115350777089148783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115350777089148783' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115350777089148783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115350777089148783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/07/next-step.html' title='The Next Step'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115342231338873833</id><published>2006-07-20T13:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-20T14:05:13.416-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What Now?</title><content type='html'>Remember creepy guy...well even after the police talked to him about not coming around me, I got another letter from him today. He left it in the church office with our secretary. This one was a little uncomfortable. He never really threatened me or anything, but it was a little threatening to anyone how may be around me. So that's a little scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All morning and even now I'm just a little uneasy and not being able to focus. I'm just very uncomfortable right now and don't really know the proper way to handle situations like this.  I tried called the sergeant that I've been working with, but he seems to be on vacation this week, so I haven't gotten to share any of this information with him. All in due time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my great week has just kind of come to a stand still because I feel like I'm looking over my shoulder at everything I do. Not a very fun way to be spending the day...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note, I got to talk with Lauren for a lengthy time yesterday. It was a much needed talk, especially with her being so far away we don't get to gossip and share things with each other like we used to. Got to talk about boys, religion, future...the list could go on. I love getting her input on things and hearing advice from her. It just makes life easier for me. I'm getting very exciting about getting to go and visit her this fall. I'm just ready to take a trip somewhere...even if it is by myself!! I love to travel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, so day camp is going well and that makes it easy on me...but I should head out to go check on all of those elementary kiddo's and make sure everyone is still up and running...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115342231338873833?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115342231338873833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115342231338873833' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115342231338873833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115342231338873833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/07/what-now.html' title='What Now?'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115309087135950282</id><published>2006-07-16T17:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-17T11:05:24.326-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Realizations</title><content type='html'>What an Awesome weekend I had. I got to see and hang out with so many amazing people. It started off with having a drink with my new friend I made at church to spending the night with an old friend from high school....and then so much more in between. Through out this weekend I realized somethings about myself and about what I would like in my future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday night after a long day of shopping, eating and spending time with an Amazing Guy - I ran into my neighbors and was invited to go out with them for some Dinner &amp;amp; Dancing. We went out to the SPJST hall in the great town of Taylor, TX. It was awesome, it was just a little hall out in the middle of nowhere that had delicious burgers and a spot for dancing. I danced my first polka and was pretty proud of myself. But the hall was filled with couples that were no younger than 75 or 80 (no joke). And they were loving it. These couples that have been married for 40+ years that were sitting with each other dancing and being so affectionate with each other. They danced so much with each other and were always smiling. You could just see how much they loved each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized that that's what I want. Someone who will still want to dance with me after 50 years of being together, someone who will still sit with their arms around my shoulder and squeeze my neck every now and then. It was just so neat to see how these couples acted after a long life together. I think it's awesome to see and know someone can love someone else for decades and still love them the same. Amazing! I just hope I will end up with someone and be in love for that long...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also realized that I want to have a backyard that has some sort of pond or creek with a bench by it, so that I can sit and watch the water. I think that would be pleasant. Spending the evening with my hot guy by the water and just sit there. That's all that would need to happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also realized how awkward I get around guys when it's just one on one. I don't know why, but I just have a hard time being myself because I'm always scared of what they're thinking...are we thinking the same thing? Does he just want to be my friend? Do I have something on my face? Should I touch him, what should I do if he touches me?...you know...I just think too much sometime. I guess I just need to let things happen and not worry so much. But as a girl...that's just what we do. I don't know how to stop it. I can tell myself to, but I don't always listen to my own advice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways...All in All, my weekend was excellent and now I get to play hostess to three college aged girls for the week. Hope I don't get too cramped with that many people in my apartment...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115309087135950282?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115309087135950282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115309087135950282' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115309087135950282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115309087135950282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/07/new-realizations.html' title='New Realizations'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115263709500615601</id><published>2006-07-11T11:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T11:58:15.043-05:00</updated><title type='text'>All over Texas</title><content type='html'>I don't even know where to begin. I've just been all over the place these past couple weeks. From Georgetown to Floresville to Falls City to San Antonio to Falls City to Kerrville to Georgetown to San Antonio and back to Georgetown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My best friend from high school got married the other weekend and I had such a great time with all of those &lt;a href="http://beckyalynpics.blogspot.com/"&gt;activities&lt;/a&gt;. It was a busy weekend, but it was definitely worth it. It was wonderful and beautiful and just a good time. I don't think I've had that much fun at a wedding ever...that could be a lie, but I don't know. I just had so much fun with everyone. It was like a high school reunion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I headed to camp for a couple days to see my elementary kiddos. That was a great time. I hit on a couple younger boys...no big deal. It's just funny. Plus my friend Sam just eggs it on so it was like a competition. I had a wonderful time there though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it was off to San Antonio with my high school youth for the &lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.elca.org/gathering/"&gt;ELCA National Youth Gathering&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt; that happens every 3 years. It was a busy 5 days. I am so worn out. But I had a great time there as well. It's funny how being in a crowd of 15,000 people you can still run into people you know a number of times. I think I ran into my cousin from Dallas on two different occasions and then I ran into a guy from camp at least every day...maybe even twice a day. It was so weird. But it was a great experience. My group really enjoyed themselves. They mostly liked meeting the cute boys and girls there, but still, at least they had a good time, right?!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I'm back in Georgetown trying to catch up on all the sleep I lost this week. The cold I got isn't really helping that much, but I'm pushing through it. Next week is my last busy week of the summer so I'm just preparing myself for that. Then I'm going to take a vacation. So if anyone has any suggestions of where I should go, I'm open to any ideas. I plan on taking some time off in mid-August if anyone is willing to host a traveler!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115263709500615601?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115263709500615601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115263709500615601' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115263709500615601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115263709500615601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/07/all-over-texas.html' title='All over Texas'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115151178885625517</id><published>2006-06-28T11:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-28T11:23:08.880-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Heeeee's Baaaaack</title><content type='html'>It has been a pleasant couple of months not having to worry about this guy that has been leaving me little notes at the church. He's been traveling...but now he's back...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Detective/Officer that has my "case" made an unannounced stop at my office this morning to let me know. Now, isn't that sweet. I have spoken with this man a few times before, we keep each other updated one new happenings in the situation and what not. I was surprised to see what he looked like. He sounded like an older gentleman on the phone, but in person...he was younger than what I had pictured. He wasn't this gray haired man in his suit and tie, he was a younger guy (35-45ish) in uniform. Anyways...that's not the point....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Words were exchanged between him and the man that I asked him to speak with. Hopefully that is a good thing and isn't something that will set off my 'note passer' man. I just pray that the detectives words were stern enough to get the point across, but gentle enough to not make this guy go even crazier than he already is. I just want to be able to go around town and not have to worry about who I might run into.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way, I have the detectives number in case anything might happend, which makes me feel better. He even said he wouldn't mind sending someone out here on a Sunday morning if things begin to get uncomfortable. I'm content with the situation now. Especially since I won't be here for the next couple of Sunday's. That should be enough time away for things to get back to normal and I don't have to be around this guy and worry about what he's going to do next...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115151178885625517?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115151178885625517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115151178885625517' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115151178885625517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115151178885625517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/06/heeeees-baaaaack.html' title='Heeeee&apos;s Baaaaack'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115134432320658392</id><published>2006-06-26T12:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T12:52:03.230-05:00</updated><title type='text'>BridesMaid Duties</title><content type='html'>How much fun is being a bridesmaid...besides spending all sorts of money on dresses and parties.&lt;br /&gt;We got to spend a day trying on and playing in all sorts of dresses. It's like dress up for big girls.&lt;br /&gt;Then we get to throw parties for them and have all sorts of good times!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115134432320658392?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115134432320658392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115134432320658392' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134432320658392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134432320658392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/06/bridesmaid-duties.html' title='BridesMaid Duties'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115134418882918512</id><published>2006-06-26T12:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T12:49:48.840-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/dress1.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/dress1.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Starting our day of fun with a variety of dresses&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115134418882918512?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115134418882918512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115134418882918512' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134418882918512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134418882918512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/06/starting-our-day-of-fun-with-variety.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115134393622735444</id><published>2006-06-26T12:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T12:45:36.273-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/dress2.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/dress2.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and Carrie&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115134393622735444?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115134393622735444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115134393622735444' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134393622735444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134393622735444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/06/me-and-carrie.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115134391434870913</id><published>2006-06-26T12:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T12:45:14.406-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/dress3.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/dress3.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too much fun&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115134391434870913?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115134391434870913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115134391434870913' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134391434870913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134391434870913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/06/too-much-fun.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115134388889074695</id><published>2006-06-26T12:44:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T12:44:48.903-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/dress4.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/dress4.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was long of my favorites...but I apparently have different taste than the rest of the ladies&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115134388889074695?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115134388889074695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115134388889074695' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134388889074695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134388889074695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/06/this-was-long-of-my-favorites.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115134385351155138</id><published>2006-06-26T12:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T12:44:13.526-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/dress9.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/dress9.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nice selections&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115134385351155138?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115134385351155138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115134385351155138' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134385351155138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134385351155138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/06/nice-selections.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115134374121851120</id><published>2006-06-26T12:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T12:42:21.236-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/dress6.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/dress6.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one made me feel like a ballerina...I did some pretty sweet moves when no one was looking.&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115134374121851120?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115134374121851120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115134374121851120' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134374121851120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134374121851120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/06/this-one-made-me-feel-like-ballerina.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115134370539994184</id><published>2006-06-26T12:41:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T12:41:45.410-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/dress7.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/dress7.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gorgeous!&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115134370539994184?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115134370539994184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115134370539994184' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134370539994184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134370539994184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/06/gorgeous.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115134368682103499</id><published>2006-06-26T12:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T12:41:26.833-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/dress8.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/dress8.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stacey, Carrie, Stacy, Leslie and I after our long morning of trying on dresses!&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115134368682103499?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115134368682103499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115134368682103499' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134368682103499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134368682103499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/06/stacey-carrie-stacy-leslie-and-i-after.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115134364999876769</id><published>2006-06-26T12:40:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T12:40:50.016-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/bach1.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/bach1.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two Moczygemba Girls....Two much to handle!!&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115134364999876769?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115134364999876769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115134364999876769' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134364999876769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134364999876769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/06/two-moczygemba-girls.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115134362126709335</id><published>2006-06-26T12:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T12:40:21.280-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/bach2.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/bach2.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wedding party with some additions...now that's a good looking group of girls. (Lisa, Becky, Stacey, Carrie, Stacy, Christine, Stephanie)&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115134362126709335?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115134362126709335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115134362126709335' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134362126709335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134362126709335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/06/wedding-party-with-some-additions.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115134356003333340</id><published>2006-06-26T12:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T12:39:20.170-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/bach3.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/bach3.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and the Bride-To-Be...Carrie, about to go have some fun!!&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115134356003333340?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115134356003333340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115134356003333340' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134356003333340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115134356003333340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/06/me-and-bride-to-be.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115021546189278128</id><published>2006-06-13T11:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-13T11:17:41.926-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things That Bother Becky</title><content type='html'>I've been known to complain about little things that aren't worth even bringing up. But right now I have a few things on my mind that are bothering me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I hate it when people dilute the liquid soap to save money. I just went to wash my hands and it felt like all I did was put water on my hands. Why would anyone think that putting water in soap is going to make it last longer? It just makes it runny and not make any bubbles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Single ply toilet paper. You just have to use more and so it doesn't last any longer. You use less at a time if you buy the good stuff. This is one thing that I dont' skimp out on. I'll buy the god stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. When people going to the teller at the bank and use the line that has the ATM. Goodness, save that line for the people that just want to get a couple of bucks out instead of making them wait the 20 minutes it takes you to deposit a check....Drives me crazy when I'm in a rush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Blinker's. They're there for a reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Now I'm not really one to drive ridiculously fast, but I do like going the speed limit, so if the speed limit is 65 and you want to drive 55...please do not drive in the left hand lane. LEFT LANE FOR PASSING ONLY. Come on people, read the sign.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Don't say you're going to call someone if you're not going to call. Just don't say anything. I'd rather have someone say, "Well, it was good seeing you. See ya later." Then "Hey, I'll definitely call you." and then not call.  I don't want to expect a phone call thats not coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. If you open a drawer or a cabinet, shut it when you're finished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure there's more but I don't want to be so negative about everything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115021546189278128?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115021546189278128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115021546189278128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115021546189278128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115021546189278128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/06/things-that-bother-becky.html' title='Things That Bother Becky'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-115012308127055824</id><published>2006-06-12T09:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T09:40:32.596-05:00</updated><title type='text'>So Much, So Fast</title><content type='html'>Goodness it's been a while. Summer is always just so busy when it comes to working with youth in a church. But it's wonderful and it's keeping me busy. No complaints about sitting around and having nothing to do...although that would be nice every now and then because I am so exhausted right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I took a group of 10 Middle Schooler to Arlington for 3 nights to do some mission work up there. It was awesome! We had such a great time and everyone got along very well. Not to say that the boys didn't act like 14 year old boys, but still...it was a great time. Tiring, but great.&lt;br /&gt;We did work at "Mission Arlington". Our daily duties were: sorting through the donations that people drop off, separating clothes, putting clothes on hangers to put in their "store", driving an un-airconditioned truck to pick up donations, sorting boxes of cleaner, organizing a food pantry and going to old apartment complexes to play with kids and to Bible Studies with them. We were constantly busy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lauren even came to spend an evening with us...well, with me! Which is always good times. We had  yet another good bye moment which, again, was pretty difficult. It's pretty real now because she's already left and won't be for a couple months until I get to see her again. Luckily the summer will keep me occupied, but that won't be the case when there's nothing to do around here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we got to spend a day at Six Flags to reward our selves for all the hard work we did. It was a great time. Go to ride lots of rides!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then I head to San Antonio almost as soon as we got back into town. Carrie's Bachelorette party was this weekend so we had a great girls night out! Dinner and Margarita's at Cha-Cha's then dancing the night away at Cowboy's Dance Hall. I haven't gotten to do that kind of dancing in so long, I had such a great time!! Plus I got to hang out with some old friends which is always good!! And I got to hang out with Cory and Andy. Andy and I had a great little talk about what's going on in his life. Which was interesting because we never really have serious conversations anymore. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Travis showed up at Cowboys that night too! That's always fun. I like seeing him. Good things happened, we had nice little chat. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now I'm back in Georgetown in the "real" world getting ready for my next adventure!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-115012308127055824?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/115012308127055824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=115012308127055824' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115012308127055824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/115012308127055824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/06/so-much-so-fast.html' title='So Much, So Fast'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114919627793510935</id><published>2006-06-01T15:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-01T16:11:17.960-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sinking In</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1019/837/1600/UsNPirate.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1019/837/320/UsNPirate.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never been one to make girl friends very easily. My excuse is that I grew up with three brothers and so I'm just more comfortable around boys than I am girls (except boys I like). So having a girl friend is a big deal for me. I mean, I have girl friends that I grew up with and when to high school with and went to college with...but after college is when I really found a girl that I was comfortable with talking about personal life: the future, boys, jobs...just &lt;em&gt;life&lt;/em&gt; in general. I didn't feel judged, I never felt embarrassed, I didn't feel looked down on and I always felt like I meant something. Yes, this goes out to you Lauren.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I was sitting at my desk is when it really really really sunk in that she was leaving. I kept telling myself that she was moving...but now, right now...it's sinking in. Four years she'll be away. Maybe even longer if she likes it there that much. &lt;strong&gt;FOUR YEARS!!!&lt;/strong&gt; That's a long time. I've lost touch which plenty of people in the last four years. I don't really forsee that happening with Lauren, but it's scary to think. We might be really good about keeping in touch for the first year...but then what...what if we start to slack. I shouldn't be thinking so negative because if this friendship is as AWESOME as I think it is...then we'll stay in contact for always!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if I don't see her this week while I'm in Arlington on a youth event...I'm not going to see her for months. Which is rough because we have been pretty good about meeting up once a week for dinner or coffee. I'm definitely going to miss that...She was for sure one of my stress releasers. Now who am I going to talk to about all the things going on in my life? Yes, I will still talk to her... but sometimes it's just better in person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1019/837/1600/airplane.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1019/837/320/airplane.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was also the one that I got to take trips with...we've been plenty of places: Miami, Key West, Arlington, Nashville, Winston-Salem, Charlotte...never a dull moment when we're together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways...I just wanted everyone to know that Lauren is such an amazing person. And I am going to miss her dearly. But now worries, we'll see each other soon enough in her new surroundings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lauren, I am very proud of what you are doing and wish nothing but the best for you in your new life. This is what you should be and need to be doing. You will make so many more lives full with what you do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;I LOVE YOU GIRL!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114919627793510935?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114919627793510935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114919627793510935' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114919627793510935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114919627793510935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/06/sinking-in.html' title='Sinking In'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114900424266140380</id><published>2006-05-30T10:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-30T10:50:42.730-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Home Sweet Home</title><content type='html'>What a great weekend, packed full of family, friends, and business.&lt;br /&gt;I love taking trips down south. I left work early on Thursday to go to San Antonio and I met up with my brother Andy to have some dinner together. Which was nice because we don't usually get to hang out together. He brought a girl along, so it wasn't just us two, but it was still nice all the same. His lady friend seemed like a good girl, not real talkative, but I wasn't either because we didn't know each other. Anyways...then I met up with my oldest brother Cory and we hung out at his place for a while before meeting up with some friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now these friends are great people, I was very excited/nervous to get to spend my Thursday night with them. I've had a crush on this one guy that was with us since High School. Every time I see him I just get all flushed and my stomach turns over and my legs get weak. It's ridiculous. But I just can't help it. It happens every time and even after seeing him a few times it still happens. Anyways. It was great, we went out to &lt;em&gt;The Falls&lt;/em&gt; and listened to some music and had a few drinks. It was pleasant. We decided that since Friday I had nothing to all day and that I would be sitting in Cory apartment all by myself that he would come over and we would hang out all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he came over late the next morning and we ended up watching about 3 movies together: Super Troopers, Van Wilder, and Pirates of the Carribean. We did a little flirting and what not...but that was it. Nothing really happened.&lt;br /&gt;I'm just not confidant enough in myself to do anything so I just waited for him to do or say something, but nothing. Kind of made me a little sad. Oh well. Then we all went out again that night, Me, my three brothers and him. It was nice.  And as we were parting ways again that night it was just one of those "well it was good to see you, I'm glad we got to hang out" type endings. Made me a little sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then my Grandmother turned 80 on Saturday. There was a big Shin-Dig at Grady's bar-b-que. All of the family and some of my grandmother's friends were there. It was a big To Do. Then I had to come back home. That was a hard drive back home, it really makes me sad that I have to come back to such an empty feeling after being surrounded by family and friends that I love. Then I get home and I just sit around...stinks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Sunday after church I decided that I would just go home again for the night to be with people. I think I really needed that. I had a great conversation with my parents and just some nice relax time. Which is good because the summer is going to be pretty wild.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my drive back to Georgetown, I decided to call this guy...of course, he didn't answer. Which kind of stinks because I hate calling people and I really hate leaving messages. So that's that...I guess I just wait around and see if he gets the urge to call me and see what I'm up to.&lt;br /&gt;I just don't want to get annoying and call when I should be calling. I don't want him to think I'm some obsessive girl. I'm not, I promise...just a little "crush struck".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114900424266140380?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114900424266140380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114900424266140380' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114900424266140380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114900424266140380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/05/home-sweet-home.html' title='Home Sweet Home'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114848575037314947</id><published>2006-05-24T10:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-01T16:13:05.870-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Angels and Airwaves</title><content type='html'>I was a little sad the day Blink 821 decided to go their seperate ways when it comes to music because I've always been a fan of theirs. Not like Daniel, who owns practically every album, single and re-make that Blink every did. But a fan still the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have been waiting patiently for the new Angels and Airwaves CD to come out. It dropped yesterday, and yes I went to Best Buy to buy it (along with the purchase of a car charger and the new Snow Patrol CD).&lt;br /&gt;I must say I made some good buys! Both Cd's are just great. I'm really excited that Tom DeLong started a new group. The music and words are just great. I can't get enough of it. Lucky me that I can sit and listen to this while I'm at work!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also called my brother's yesterday. We're going to have a fun filled weekend of hanging out. I don't get to just "hang out" and chill with my brother's anymore, so this will be good. It's really going to be good if Hot boys are around!&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I'm just excited to get out of Georgetown for a while. A little mini-vacation before my hectic summer begins and I don't get any rest what-so-ever!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;"Oh I need you now,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;the earth fell fast asleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;This room is safe and sound,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;will you lay here with me and feel it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I think I like today, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;I think it's good,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;It's something I can't get my head around."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;-Angels and Airwaves&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114848575037314947?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114848575037314947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114848575037314947' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114848575037314947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114848575037314947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/05/angels-and-airwaves.html' title='Angels and Airwaves'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114841401539333916</id><published>2006-05-23T14:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-23T14:53:35.436-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Times Change</title><content type='html'>The end of May just keeps getting closer and closer. I'm getting a little scared about that. Lot's of activities coming up, friends moving away, and just not a lot of time for myself.&lt;br /&gt;I went to Elicia's baptism on Sunday. Well, I didn't really get to see any of it because I had certain responsibilities at my church that morning. But I got there as church was letting out and so I got to say my hello's and give my gifts. That was the last time I am going to see them for a while because the leave for Colorado tomorrow morning. Sad, I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I started thinking on my drive back to Georgetown...now I know this is going to sound ridiculous when I write it because I already know I'm over reacting. But their are just certain emotions that I get and I think that maybe getting them out will make me feel better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Becca's college roommate was chosen to be on of the God parent's, along with Steve's sister. Now don't get me wrong I'm am excited for both of them to get that privilege. But then I started thinking, Becca's roommate got to be her maid of honor and now she get's to be the God Mother.  I felt a little left out because I've been friends with her longer and have felt that we were really close. I know, that's a selfish feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then it got me thinking back to weddings.  All my friends seem to either have a sister or a "closer" best friend than myself.  Courtney had her sister, Carrie has her twin, Stacy has Carrie, Becca had Jessica. Now these girls have all been very close to me...but do I think more of them than they do of me? I don't think so. But when you sit around by yourself as long as I do it all starts to make sense. I want to be as much a friend to them as I feel they are to me. And I think I do a pretty good job of that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I just found out that my brother has been hanging out with this guy that I used to have a huge crush on in high school. So that got me thinking...my brother is my way in! I'll have to find a reason to just drop in and hang out with all of those guy so that everyone can see how wonderful I am...We'll just see what the weekend holds!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114841401539333916?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114841401539333916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114841401539333916' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114841401539333916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114841401539333916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/05/times-change.html' title='Times Change'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114796446124419075</id><published>2006-05-18T09:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-18T10:01:01.370-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Breathe It In</title><content type='html'>I love having a clean car...It just makes driving that much better. Lately my after work activity was going home, putting on my swim suit and sitting by the pool for a while. But when I got home yesterday the pool was infested with children and other people laying out...I don't like laying out when there's people there. Plus, I saw that all the chairs were taken. So I took it upon myself to work on my VUE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I changed clothes and got to work. First I vacuumed what I could, my little hand held dirt devil isn't that great. But I got all the big stuff out. Then I dusted and polished the dashboard, steering wheel, arm rest, cup holders...I even got some toothpicks and dug the gross stuff that falls under my window button. It was such a great feeling. I even cleaned all the door and window frames where the car wash doesn't reach. Ahhh...it was magical. I got pretty gross and my hands were almost black when I was finished. But was definitely worth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I got in my car to drive to Austin to meet up with Lauren I just had a smile on my face because my car was beautiful. So if someone wants to ride in my car you must dust your feet and not spill anything!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, I was excited to get back into my car to go back home. Did you know that there's traffic at 10:30 at night on I35. RIDICULOUS!!! It took me 50 minutes to make a 25 minute drive back home. I was a little irritated. First the 3 lanes of I35 turned into 2 lanes....and then the 2 lanes turned into &lt;strong&gt;1&lt;/strong&gt; lane!!! It was awful. But I got to talk to one of my brother's for a while which was nice. Did a little catch up with each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also found out that he was hanging out with this guy that was just head over heels for in High School, so I was a little jealous about that...but I guess that will just give me some sort of excuse to go hang out with him sometime!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114796446124419075?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114796446124419075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114796446124419075' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114796446124419075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114796446124419075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/05/breathe-it-in.html' title='Breathe It In'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114780642859002266</id><published>2006-05-16T13:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-16T14:07:08.623-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Check the Peep Hole before you step outside</title><content type='html'>It happened again this Sunday...I got another creepy letter from the creepy guy. This one wasn't as off the wall as the last one was...but I do "cry" alot in the letter and then eventually die. Not really something that I want to hear...but whatev.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was handed the letter around some ladies in the kitchen on Sunday so I shared it with them and a few dads that were around. Thier first response was to get a restraining order immediately. Hearing that from a lawyer kind of freaked me out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yesterday I spent my lunch break at the Police Station. I sat with the same officer that had arrested this guy before and she's also the same one that spoke with me the last time I turned the letter in to a detective. Anyways...she was very nice and is just frustrated with this guy. Me Too! Well her advice on the restraining order is that the cops have spoken to him before but that didn't do anything and that if he was handed these paper that just might be the thing to "set him off".  OK, I don't want to set him off...he's already crazy.  But still...I don't see him staying away just because a piece of paper tells him to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've told his family about this and they've talked to him about...he just doesn't listen. So now I'm just on my guard. I check my peep-hole before I walk outside and I'm not at the church alone and...you know all the commen sense stuff to stay safe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I showed my neighbor the letter and he said if it was his daughter he would go knock on this guy's door and tell him to leave me alone or he'll do some damage....&lt;br /&gt;So he said if he needed too, he'll go give this guy a piece of him mind if he doesn't leave me alone. At least I'm being protected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some men from the church are supposed to sit down with him this Sunday and set him straight...hopefully that will work and I won't have to worry about this guy anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114780642859002266?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114780642859002266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114780642859002266' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114780642859002266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114780642859002266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/05/check-peep-hole-before-you-step.html' title='Check the Peep Hole before you step outside'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114729753270076940</id><published>2006-05-10T16:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-10T16:45:32.746-05:00</updated><title type='text'>UnEasy</title><content type='html'>So there's this guy...I can't remember if I've written about him before...I'm sure I have. Anyways...he makes me very uncomfortable. Just that way he acts and the way he shows up at different things.&lt;br /&gt;He wrote a very random letter to me and put in on my windsheild one day. It was a little creapy, so I turned it into the police.  Turns out he had written another girl a creapy letter and she also turned it into the police. Anyways...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now he's calling me. He called me about 4 times this weekend. I didn't answer any of them because I knew it was him. Well he asked weird things when he calls. One of his calls was just to see if he got the message that he left a couple weeks ago....&lt;br /&gt;Then he called to get a book back that he put on my desk.&lt;br /&gt;Then he called to see if I wanted to hit golf balls with him.&lt;br /&gt;Then he called to see if I wanted to go to a movie with him.&lt;br /&gt;Then he called to say he gave me the wrong phone number to call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways...he just really bothers me. I know all I really need to do is tell him not to call me anymore. But I really don't want to talk to him.&lt;br /&gt;Then during Sunday School on Sunday mornings he's always waiting for me in the same spot and then flags me down to see if I got all his messages. Ahhhh. "Sure, I got your messages"...no stop calling me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know there's something wrong with him and that I shouldn't judge or anything...but it's hard not to because I just get very uncomfortable around him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114729753270076940?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114729753270076940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114729753270076940' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114729753270076940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114729753270076940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/05/uneasy.html' title='UnEasy'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114720489533086688</id><published>2006-05-09T14:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-09T16:44:46.173-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Like I've Said Before</title><content type='html'>I don't know what's gotten into me...I think I've read about 8 books in the past month...I never realized how much I like to read...but I've found this one lady who I really like. Sarah Mlynowski...she's good. Good for my age. I wouldn't recommend her to my mom or anything because I would most likely be embarrassed if she read what I was reading. Anyways...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this last book I read of hers titled "Milkrun" she brought up the point that &lt;em&gt;every pot has a lid&lt;/em&gt;. I was just shocked. My grandmother is the only person that I have ever heard use that expression. I've said it to a couple friends and we joked about writing a book and calling it "Finding your Lid."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was just great to see that other people use that expression. Kind of just made my day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life has been overwhelmingly positive lately and I just love it. I don't know if I'm just seeing a new outlook on life or what. But things are just going very well for me right now. I'm &lt;em&gt;finally&lt;/em&gt; up for review at work and was told I would get a certain% pay increase upon my formal evaluation...that's awesome. Makes me feel wanted...that I'm doing something right and that they want me here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And some old friends are coming into Austin, so that will be good to see some familiar faces. I guess he's really not an old friend...but we used to hang out. I'm not getting into detail for fear of sounding ridiculous. But that will be nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my brother and I have been trying to plan a summer trip together. First we planned on going to Vegas, but that turned into way too much money. So we decided on San Diego...yup that was expensive too. Stupid high gas prices are making our trips harder to do.  I was really excited about this...it was going to me and my brothers. But so far it looks like not much is going to happen.&lt;br /&gt;If someone has any suggestions as too a cheap place to go to would be...let me know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114720489533086688?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114720489533086688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114720489533086688' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114720489533086688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114720489533086688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/05/like-ive-said-before.html' title='Like I&apos;ve Said Before'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114675815872146567</id><published>2006-05-04T10:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-04T10:55:58.736-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/tlugrad.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/tlugrad.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sabrina, Pyle, Me and Josh at TLU's graduation...December 2005&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114675815872146567?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114675815872146567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114675815872146567' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114675815872146567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114675815872146567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/05/sabrina-pyle-me-and-josh-at-tlus.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114675820819894968</id><published>2006-05-04T10:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-04T10:56:48.226-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I love it...</title><content type='html'>I love running into people on myspace. It's such a neat invention. I got an email from this guy that I worked with in Pennsylvania. I hadn't really seen him in like 3 years and then BAM...there he was. Anyways...I just get a kick out of all the old friends I run in to. It puts a smile on my face...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also found this picture on a friends myspace. How fun is that...I would have never found it if I hadn't been roaming around!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways...it's just the little things in life that make me happy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114675820819894968?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114675820819894968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114675820819894968' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114675820819894968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114675820819894968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-love-it.html' title='I love it...'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114659406779556703</id><published>2006-05-02T13:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-02T13:23:19.673-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Old School</title><content type='html'>Another trip home...another great time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my best friends from High School, Carrie, is getting married on July 1st and she had a wedding shower on Sunday afternoon. It was so great to see all &lt;a href="http://beckyalynpics.blogspot.com/"&gt;those girls &lt;/a&gt;again that I went to school with. Just reminiscing about our times in high school and sharing what we're doing with our lives now. I see those girls every now and then, but it's very rare. We had so much fun together for those couple of years!!&lt;br /&gt;I got another compliment saying that I looked like Sheryl Crow. That is one of my most favortite compliments because I seriously just adore that lady. Maybe I should start curling my hair more often. But that just put a smile on my face!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was supposed to meet up with my friend Wes afterwards, but apparently he had plans that he wasn't aware of and had to back out. Which I guess is fine, I was tired and was glad I got to sit around with my parents. But it would had been nice to get out and do something. Wes and I dated a couple times in college, but it wasn't really that big of a deal...so now whenever we see each other we just flirt a lot. So it's probably better that we didn't hang out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I got to have lunch with my friend Courtney on Monday on my way back to Georgetown. We were roommates in College and we rarely get to see each other either. So it was just great to see so many people that I don't get to see often. Courtney tries to convince me every time I see her to move closer to San Antonio. It always crosses my mind every now and then because it would be so great to get to see those guy more often. Then I would be closer to my family. Plus, I know once the summer is over it's going to hit my like a brick wall that my friends aren't around anymore. I guess I'll just see what the future holds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also stopped and picked up my &lt;a href="http://www1.sprintpcs.com/explore/PhonesAccessories/PhoneDetails.jsp?navLocator=%7Cshop%7CphonesAccessories%7CpicturePhones%7C&amp;selectSkuId=samsungmma920&amp;amp;FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=1476311&amp;CURRENT_USER%3C%3EATR_SCID=ECOMM&amp;amp;CURRENT_USER%3C%3EATR_PCode=SLCSECOMMERCE&amp;CURRENT_USER%3C%3EATR_cartState=group&amp;amp;bmUID=1146594010311"&gt;new upgraded phone&lt;/a&gt;. I spent way too much money, but -by golly- I was going to get a cool phone. Now...starting next month, I'll have internet, and text messaging, Sirius music and all other sorts of &lt;em&gt;Neato&lt;/em&gt; stuff. Anyways...exciting stuff going on!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114659406779556703?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114659406779556703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114659406779556703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114659406779556703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114659406779556703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/05/old-school.html' title='Old School'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114614935558732327</id><published>2006-04-27T09:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T09:49:15.626-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Secrets don't make Friends...But Friends make Secrets</title><content type='html'>Last night as I was sitting in stupid traffic on I35 at 10:00 p.m. it kind of hit me...What am I going to do when Lauren's gone? She has definitely been a support system for me up here. I feel very close to her and you know what...we've really only be friends for about 2 years or so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways...we had our usually Wednesday evening meeting last night. And to be honest...it was definitely one of my favorites. I look back at our other Starbuck's conversations...they were all great...but this one was just really good. We really shared a lot about ourselves and our lives and it was just nice to have someone to do that with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personally I have been dealing with this "thing" for about a year now. I keep it to myself mostly out of embarrassment or stupidity or whatever. It was just so nice to actually just say it to someone. It doesn't make it go away...but just having that person listen to you and to have someone other than myself know that I have these thoughts, makes it a little comforting. Plus just being able to speak them is a bit of therapy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really going to miss our Starbuck's talks. Sadness...&lt;br /&gt;It's funny to think what life is going to be like in about 5 years. To look back and think...Remember when we used to meet up at Starbucks and talk about what I life would be like now...It's going to be interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've really gotten into commercials lately. Mostly because you can't really get away from them, it's like 10 minutes of a TV show to 20 minutes of commercials. Anyways...some of them really draw me it. I guess mostly because I'm a girl and when one about a wedding comes on I'm very drawn to it. There was one about the Men's Warehouse, you know what I'm talking about. And it was saying how everyone's attention is on the flower's and the Bride and no one really looks at anything else. But while everyone is looking at the Bride...she's looking at you. How true...so you want to look your best.&lt;br /&gt;I hope I'm like that...not looking around to make sure the flowers look right or that all my friends are there or whatever...I want to just be looking at whoever is standing at the front of the church waiting for me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhh....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;"there has to be something &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;there has to be someone out there&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;there has to be an answer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;a prescription a prayer."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;-Custom&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114614935558732327?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114614935558732327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114614935558732327' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114614935558732327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114614935558732327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/04/secrets-dont-make-friendsbut-friends.html' title='Secrets don&apos;t make Friends...But Friends make Secrets'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114591624541588308</id><published>2006-04-24T16:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-24T17:07:23.386-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Child Birth...who knew?</title><content type='html'>I've learned that Child birth is nothing like what the movies make it out to be:&lt;br /&gt;-Lady goes in pregnant&lt;br /&gt;-Lady gets an epidural&lt;br /&gt;-Lady pops out a Baby&lt;br /&gt;-Lady and Baby go home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have learned so much from one of my best friends about how this "miracle" really works. It's more like hours of pain and uncomfortableness. AND it's very disgusting, so I'm not really going to talk about it. But it almost in a way...makes me NOT want to have to go through all that pain and grossness.&lt;br /&gt;Did you know that the baby can start peaking out...and then get sucked right back in? That would just piss me off. And if the epidural doesn't work...that's just awful.&lt;br /&gt;It takes months for your body to get back to normal...and it's apparently a very uncomfortable time for the 6 weeks after the baby is out. Then you have to start worrying about how your going to lose all the weight you gained. I had no idea. The list just goes on with all the stuff that happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now there are plenty of babies in my family but no one really goes into all the gross details about what really went on. Quite frankly...it's nuts. I saw a picture of a Placenta...now that's a gross body part. I realize that that is what the baby is living off of...but please...keep it covered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could go on and on about all the stuff that I learned...but seriously...no one wants to hear it. You have to experience it and actually get a child out of it to appreciate it. Right now...to me...it's just ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although, I heard from Becca's mother that "I'm a natural". I guess I just know the right way to handle a little baby because I've been through it 4 times with my cousins having children. I don't feel awkward to pick up and hold a baby. Diapers are another story...I'll take them while they're clean, thank you. I'm just ready to spoil the crap out of the precious baby and see her as much as I can because they'll leaving on May 25 for Colorado. Now that's quick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the openings for new &lt;em&gt;girl&lt;/em&gt; friends for Becky is beginning. There's too many girls leaving me at the start of Summer and I'm going to need some replacements. Remember you need to be in the Austin area to apply because long distance just isn't going to cut it...OK....Great. I'll get applications out as soon as I put something together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114591624541588308?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114591624541588308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114591624541588308' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114591624541588308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114591624541588308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/04/child-birthwho-knew.html' title='Child Birth...who knew?'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114583287872935468</id><published>2006-04-23T17:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T17:54:38.750-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I just have to Brag a little more</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114583287872935468?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114583287872935468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114583287872935468' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114583287872935468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114583287872935468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-just-have-to-brag-little-more.html' title='I just have to Brag a little more'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114583283071790268</id><published>2006-04-23T17:53:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T17:53:50.716-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/Baby1.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/Baby1.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so happy to see her!!&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114583283071790268?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114583283071790268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114583283071790268' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114583283071790268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114583283071790268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/04/im-so-happy-to-see-her.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114583281151601772</id><published>2006-04-23T17:53:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T17:53:31.540-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/Baby2.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/Baby2.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a sweet girl!!&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114583281151601772?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114583281151601772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114583281151601772' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114583281151601772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114583281151601772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/04/what-sweet-girl.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114583279538832364</id><published>2006-04-23T17:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T17:53:15.400-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/Baby3.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/Baby3.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just can't seem to get enough of her&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114583279538832364?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114583279538832364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114583279538832364' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114583279538832364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114583279538832364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-just-cant-seem-to-get-enough-of-her.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114583277715788257</id><published>2006-04-23T17:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T17:52:57.176-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/Baby4.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/Baby4.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her Mamma loves her too!!&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114583277715788257?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114583277715788257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114583277715788257' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114583277715788257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114583277715788257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/04/her-mamma-loves-her-too.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114583276032254042</id><published>2006-04-23T17:52:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T17:52:40.333-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/Baby5.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/Baby5.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little sleepy head&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114583276032254042?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114583276032254042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114583276032254042' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114583276032254042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114583276032254042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/04/little-sleepy-head.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114583274049602223</id><published>2006-04-23T17:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T17:52:20.660-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/Baby6.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/Baby6.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Love her SOOO much already!!&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114583274049602223?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114583274049602223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114583274049602223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114583274049602223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114583274049602223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-love-her-sooo-much-already.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114547351475771783</id><published>2006-04-19T14:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T14:05:14.780-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Life</title><content type='html'>As promised...&lt;br /&gt;Here's a little sneak peak of the beautiful Elicia Cox...She's gonna be a heart breaker isn't she...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also put up some other &lt;a href="http://beckyalynpics.blogspot.com/"&gt;fun pictures &lt;/a&gt;to check out!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114547351475771783?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114547351475771783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114547351475771783' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114547351475771783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114547351475771783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/04/new-life.html' title='New Life'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114547332183066219</id><published>2006-04-19T14:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T14:02:01.830-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/Elicia2.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/Elicia2.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aunty Becky says her first Hello!!&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114547332183066219?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114547332183066219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114547332183066219' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114547332183066219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114547332183066219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/04/aunty-becky-says-her-first-hello.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114547329869585070</id><published>2006-04-19T14:01:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T14:01:38.736-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/Elicia1.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/Elicia1.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yup...That's one beautiful Baby Girl!!&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114547329869585070?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114547329869585070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114547329869585070' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114547329869585070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114547329869585070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/04/yup.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114547327863337404</id><published>2006-04-19T14:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T14:01:18.643-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/Elicia3.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/Elicia3.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daddy's calming touch&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114547327863337404?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114547327863337404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114547327863337404' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114547327863337404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114547327863337404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/04/daddys-calming-touch.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114547325625895487</id><published>2006-04-19T14:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T14:00:56.273-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/Elicia5.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/Elicia5.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't cry Elicia...Daddy's here.&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114547325625895487?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114547325625895487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114547325625895487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114547325625895487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114547325625895487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/04/dont-cry-elicia.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114547323127645476</id><published>2006-04-19T14:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T14:00:31.323-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/640/Elicia4.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/23/3471/320/Elicia4.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daddy holding baby's foot...what a difference.&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114547323127645476?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114547323127645476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114547323127645476' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114547323127645476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114547323127645476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/04/daddy-holding-babys-foot.html' title=''/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10685540.post-114539033032352162</id><published>2006-04-18T14:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-18T14:58:50.366-05:00</updated><title type='text'>All over the Place</title><content type='html'>Goodness it's just been one thing after the other here. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got to go home for a couple nights before Easter to spend some time with the family. All 6 of us where there for lunch this past Saturday...that doesn't really happen seeing as our work schedule is all over the place. But I'm glad everything worked out. Had some delicious ribs and quality time together as a family. I miss that. We usually only do that at holidays...we used to do that EVERY DAY for dinner when we were all at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some reason we really got into playing dominoes this weekend. We never play dominoes, but my mom bought a set and we all just really enjoyed it. Friday after church my parents and I stayed up until after midnight playing. My parents usually don't stay up past 10:30, so it was a big deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Easter Sunday was great. I had never been out on Easter Sunday because we're always doing Family stuff, but Lauren and I tried to do some entertaining stuff...but all the parking lots were empty. I guess I'm glad they were, because they should be respectful of the Holiday. Anyways...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had yesterday off and it was very productive. I bought new tires for my VUE, did a little shopping to treat myself...New shoes. I LOVE shoes, and I haven't really bought "good" shoes in a while, so I spend the $50 on them and I'm wearing them today...they're too cute. Then I went to the movies. I saw "The Benchwarmers". It was a pretty good movie, not really what I expected so I'm glad I only paid $2.75 to see it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a phone call yesterday from a gentleman named Ryan. Now Ryan is a teacher at one of my girls schools and was given my name and number by this girls mother. Everyone thinks that it is their place to fix me up with whoever comes into their path. Anyways...we talked for a while. He sounds nice enough...but sometimes that's just a little scary to be put in this type of situation. I have no idea what he looks like or anything!!! I guess we'll do dinner or coffee sometime. We'll see how this goes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly...I'm an AUNT!!! I guess not Technically an "aunt" because it wasn't my brother's who had a baby, but close enough. One of my best friends, Becca had a beautiful baby girl last night. Seriously, I already love her so much. There were a little complications, so when I went to see her I couldn't hold her because of fevers and tests and what nots, but I'll hopefully go back later tonight and hold her.&lt;br /&gt;Now I hate to say this, but there are some ugly babies out there. But this one...oh man, this one is perfect. She's just a pretty baby. She has all her fingers and toes and eyes and elbows. I hate that I don't have a digital camera because I want to show you all how gorgeous she is. But you'll just have to put on your patient pants until I can get them developed. I guess that will be my next investment...a Digital Camera.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10685540-114539033032352162?l=beckyalyn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/feeds/114539033032352162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10685540&amp;postID=114539033032352162' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114539033032352162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10685540/posts/default/114539033032352162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beckyalyn.blogspot.com/2006/04/all-over-place.html' title='All over the Place'/><author><name>Becky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08118889940362273052</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/1381/1886/1600/gath3a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
