so i don't have internet at my new apartment.
and its really been a nice thing actually.
i get to bed around 10:30pm every night!
just understand i dont think ive gone to bed before midnight since i was 18.
that almost 5 years of late nights and early mornings.
if my stupid blog would let me post pictures again, i actually came across a clever saying that was fitting for this.
it said "some people don't sleep because they have insomnia. i don't sleep because i have the internet."
and how true that was!
so i've really enjoyed this new freedom...though i get bored quickly.
lets see, did i mention we also dont have ANY tv stations?
yea...
but i have been trying to read more, my roommate has a library card and i keep meaning to invest in one.
we've watched a lot of gilmore girls, almost all of them actually.
and a lot of ridiculous teeny bopper girl movies.
and some boy movies too.
like last night for instance, we watched the uninvited.
its a thriller/scary movie/why do we watch these things alone?!
i was really a little freaked out going to bed.
mostly because, well the roommate left to go steal internet connection at 10:30pm and i was home alone!
but this brings me to topic #2, which is ALMOST the topic of this post.
so because we don't have said internet connection at out apartment we have to drive over to the local b&n (barnes & noble, mom and dad) to get on the internet.
(have i mentioned not having internet has made my facebook farming on farmtown really, really difficutlt? all my crops keep going bad! ugh! hahaha)
so we go sit at b&n for a few hours and get all our facebooking and emailing done and then we drive home and watch more gilmore girls.
well the other night at about midnight we were bored and really wanted the internet connection.
we drove to b&n and sat in the parking lot for almost 2 hours using their internet connection!
ridiculous i tell you!
we were both sitting in the car, computers on laps, while it monsooned outside.
i wish i'd taken a picture.
well this brings me to the 3rd and final reason for writing this.
so janis was telling me about this test she took that tells you...well im not really sure hwat it tells you. it tells you your "language of love" but what does that really mean? who know...but anyway i took this little test and got my answer.
i guess its a way to see if youre compatable with other people?
maybe im wrong but i digress.
i took this test and heres my scores:
Love Language Scores:
4 Words of Affirmation
10 Quality Time
5 Receiving Gifts
6 Acts of Service
5 Physical Touch
Interpreting and Using Your Profile Score:
The highest score indicates your primary love language (the highest score is 12). It's not uncommon to have two high scores, although one language does have a slight edge for most people. That just means two languages are important to you. The lower scores indicate those languages you seldom use to communicate love and which probably don't affect you very much on an emotional level.
so my high score was:
Quality Time
In Quality Time, nothing says "I love you" like full, undivided attention. Being there for this type of person is critical, but really being there—with the TV off, fork and knife down, and all chores and tasks on standby—makes you feel truly special and loved. Distractions, postponed activities, or the failure to listen can be especially hurtful.
this actually makes sense, i know im a needy girl. i need to spend time with people and have there attention to feel important or whatever.
although, it ranked receiving gifts pretty low and...i love presents!
speaking of presents my birthdays almost a month away.
i want to go skydiving.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
Cowboy is His Name...thank you 8 seconds.
“Cowboy Is His Name/Legacy Of A Rodeo Man"
by Baxter Black
There's a hundred years of history and a hundred before that
All gathered in the thinkin' goin' on beneath his hat.
And back behind his eyeballs and pumpin' through his veins
Is the ghost of every cowboy that ever held the reins.
Every coil in his lasso's been thrown a million times
His quiet concentration's been distilled through ancient minds.
It's evolution workin' when the silver scratches hide
And a ghostly cowboy chorus fills his head and says, "Let's ride."
The famous and the rowdy, the savage and the sane
the bluebloods and the hotbloods and the corriente strain
All knew his mother's mothers or was it his daddy's kin
'Til he's nearly purely cowboy, born to ride and bred to win.
He's got Buffalo Bill Cody and Goodnight's jigger boss
And all of the brave blue soldiers that General Custer lost
The ghost of Pancho Villa, Sittin' Bull and Jessie James
All gathered by his campfire keepin' score and takin' names.
There's every Royal Mountie that ever got his man
And every day-work cowboy that ever made a hand
Each man that's rode before him, yup every mother's son
Is in his corner, rootin', when he nods to make his run.
Freckles Brown might pull his bull rope,
Casey Tibbs might jerk the flank,
Bill Pickett might be hazin' when he starts to turn the crank.
Plus Remington and Russell lookin' down his buckhorn sight
All watchin' through the window of this cowboy's eyes tonight.
And standin' in the catch pen or in chute number nine
Is the offspring of a mountain that's come down from olden time
A volcano waitin' quiet, 'til they climb upon his back
Rumblin' like the engine of a freight train on the track.
A cross between a she bear and a bad four wheel drive
With the fury of an eagle when it makes a power dive.
A snake who's lost its caution or a badger gone berserk
He's a screamin', stompin', clawin', rabid, mad dog piece o' work.
From the rollers in his nostrils to the foam upon his lips
From the hooves as hard as granite to the horns with dagger tips
From the flat black starin' shark's eye that's the mirror of his soul
Shines the challenge to each cowboy like the devil callin' roll.
In the seconds that tick slowly 'til he climbs upon his back
Each rider faces down the fear that makes his mouth go slack
And cuts his guts to ribbons and gives his tongue a coat
He swallows back the panic gorge that's risin' in his throat.
The smell of hot blue copper fills the air around his head
Then a single, solid shiver shakes away the doubt and dread
The cold flame burns within him 'til his skin's as cold as ice
And the dues he paid to get here are worth every sacrifice.
All the miles spent sleepy drivin', all the money down the drain
All the "if I's" and the "nearly's", all the bandages and the pain
All the female tears left dryin', all the fever and the fight
Are just a small downpayment on the ride he makes tonight.
And his pardner in this madness that the cowboy's call a game
Is a ton of buckin' thunder bent on provin' why he came
But the cowboy never wavers he intends to do his best
And of that widow maker, he expects of him no less.
There's a solemn silent moment that every rider knows
When the time stops on a heartbeat like the earth itself was froze
Then all the ancient instinct fills the space between his ears
Til the whispers of his phantoms are the only thing he hears.
When you get down to the cuttin' and the leather touches hyde
And there's nothin' left to think about, he nods and says, "Outside!"
Then frozen for an instant against the open gate
Is hist'ry turned to flesh and blood, a warrior incarnate.
And while they pose like statues in that flicker of an eye
There's somethin' almost sacred, you can see it if you try.
It's guts and love and glory-one mortal's chance at fame
His legacy is rodeo and cowboy is his name.
by Baxter Black
There's a hundred years of history and a hundred before that
All gathered in the thinkin' goin' on beneath his hat.
And back behind his eyeballs and pumpin' through his veins
Is the ghost of every cowboy that ever held the reins.
Every coil in his lasso's been thrown a million times
His quiet concentration's been distilled through ancient minds.
It's evolution workin' when the silver scratches hide
And a ghostly cowboy chorus fills his head and says, "Let's ride."
The famous and the rowdy, the savage and the sane
the bluebloods and the hotbloods and the corriente strain
All knew his mother's mothers or was it his daddy's kin
'Til he's nearly purely cowboy, born to ride and bred to win.
He's got Buffalo Bill Cody and Goodnight's jigger boss
And all of the brave blue soldiers that General Custer lost
The ghost of Pancho Villa, Sittin' Bull and Jessie James
All gathered by his campfire keepin' score and takin' names.
There's every Royal Mountie that ever got his man
And every day-work cowboy that ever made a hand
Each man that's rode before him, yup every mother's son
Is in his corner, rootin', when he nods to make his run.
Freckles Brown might pull his bull rope,
Casey Tibbs might jerk the flank,
Bill Pickett might be hazin' when he starts to turn the crank.
Plus Remington and Russell lookin' down his buckhorn sight
All watchin' through the window of this cowboy's eyes tonight.
And standin' in the catch pen or in chute number nine
Is the offspring of a mountain that's come down from olden time
A volcano waitin' quiet, 'til they climb upon his back
Rumblin' like the engine of a freight train on the track.
A cross between a she bear and a bad four wheel drive
With the fury of an eagle when it makes a power dive.
A snake who's lost its caution or a badger gone berserk
He's a screamin', stompin', clawin', rabid, mad dog piece o' work.
From the rollers in his nostrils to the foam upon his lips
From the hooves as hard as granite to the horns with dagger tips
From the flat black starin' shark's eye that's the mirror of his soul
Shines the challenge to each cowboy like the devil callin' roll.
In the seconds that tick slowly 'til he climbs upon his back
Each rider faces down the fear that makes his mouth go slack
And cuts his guts to ribbons and gives his tongue a coat
He swallows back the panic gorge that's risin' in his throat.
The smell of hot blue copper fills the air around his head
Then a single, solid shiver shakes away the doubt and dread
The cold flame burns within him 'til his skin's as cold as ice
And the dues he paid to get here are worth every sacrifice.
All the miles spent sleepy drivin', all the money down the drain
All the "if I's" and the "nearly's", all the bandages and the pain
All the female tears left dryin', all the fever and the fight
Are just a small downpayment on the ride he makes tonight.
And his pardner in this madness that the cowboy's call a game
Is a ton of buckin' thunder bent on provin' why he came
But the cowboy never wavers he intends to do his best
And of that widow maker, he expects of him no less.
There's a solemn silent moment that every rider knows
When the time stops on a heartbeat like the earth itself was froze
Then all the ancient instinct fills the space between his ears
Til the whispers of his phantoms are the only thing he hears.
When you get down to the cuttin' and the leather touches hyde
And there's nothin' left to think about, he nods and says, "Outside!"
Then frozen for an instant against the open gate
Is hist'ry turned to flesh and blood, a warrior incarnate.
And while they pose like statues in that flicker of an eye
There's somethin' almost sacred, you can see it if you try.
It's guts and love and glory-one mortal's chance at fame
His legacy is rodeo and cowboy is his name.
im a sucker for this cowboy crap!
If you’ve ever been loved by a cowboy,
You’ll know what I say is true;
They know how to love a woman,
And you thank your stars that it’s you.
It’s not in the fancy talkin’
Or tryin’ like heck to impress.
It’s in the deep, honest carin’
That makes these men of the west.
They learn from the world around them,
That life is precious to hold.
See how they carry the lost calf,
Until it’s back home in the fold?
They know the hand of our Maker
In the work that they do everyday.
They protect the herd from danger,
And keep them from gettin’ away.
They see the glory of sunrise,
Work hard to make things right.
When they tuck back into the bunkhouse
It’s usually the dark of the night.
In their powerful hands there is healin’.
Rough and scarred, you can see,
But when they gently touch you
You know what tender can be.
For the hands that punch the cattle,
And break a cayuse just right,
Can brand a calf in the daytime
And deliver a foal in the night.
They stroke and comfort the skiddish
They guide and lead the lame,
They work to heal the wounded
And treat the sickly humane.
There may be some maverick cowboys
That can’t keep their word to be true,
But there aren’t very many bad ones
Believe me their numbers are few.
Most stretch the truth in their “tall tales”
And fib to put on a good show,
But you’ll rarely catch one lyin’
It’s a matter of honor, you know.
When you put all these things together
You see it’s a gift, plain as day.
God gave us these fine, good men
To keep us from runnin’ astray.
To be held in the heart of a cowboy,
To hear him call you “ma'am”
To snuggle in his big, strong arms
And be his “darlin’ lamb”
Can make you more a woman
Than you could ever guess,
For when you’re loved by a cowboy,
Well..........girl
You’re loved by the very best!
You’ll know what I say is true;
They know how to love a woman,
And you thank your stars that it’s you.
It’s not in the fancy talkin’
Or tryin’ like heck to impress.
It’s in the deep, honest carin’
That makes these men of the west.
They learn from the world around them,
That life is precious to hold.
See how they carry the lost calf,
Until it’s back home in the fold?
They know the hand of our Maker
In the work that they do everyday.
They protect the herd from danger,
And keep them from gettin’ away.
They see the glory of sunrise,
Work hard to make things right.
When they tuck back into the bunkhouse
It’s usually the dark of the night.
In their powerful hands there is healin’.
Rough and scarred, you can see,
But when they gently touch you
You know what tender can be.
For the hands that punch the cattle,
And break a cayuse just right,
Can brand a calf in the daytime
And deliver a foal in the night.
They stroke and comfort the skiddish
They guide and lead the lame,
They work to heal the wounded
And treat the sickly humane.
There may be some maverick cowboys
That can’t keep their word to be true,
But there aren’t very many bad ones
Believe me their numbers are few.
Most stretch the truth in their “tall tales”
And fib to put on a good show,
But you’ll rarely catch one lyin’
It’s a matter of honor, you know.
When you put all these things together
You see it’s a gift, plain as day.
God gave us these fine, good men
To keep us from runnin’ astray.
To be held in the heart of a cowboy,
To hear him call you “ma'am”
To snuggle in his big, strong arms
And be his “darlin’ lamb”
Can make you more a woman
Than you could ever guess,
For when you’re loved by a cowboy,
Well..........girl
You’re loved by the very best!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)