im a blog virgen

Soooooooooo hiiiiii. dont expect much from this. my mom and my man tell me i talk too much so i took that as a cue that i need another outlet to blabblablab and blahblahblah. so like isnt it kinda weird that youre reading this and i dont even know you that well...or at all. super weird, right? so if i see you out and about (which may be considered a rare sighting) and you've read parts of this blog, dont stare at me all weird like you think you know me.
anyhooo, i just finished my first semester of graduate school. did you just feel the earth shake a bit? that was me, jumping for joy!! big on my agenda besides creating christmas merriment (totally serious) is to get back in shape and chilllllll. currently a "roseanne" christmas episode is on and i am a content gal.

I used to be a diary girl. i started keeping a diary at age 7 and then eventually, i started calling it a "journal" and now i have a "blog." for some reason or another, journaling seemed to hard to keep up with. and my hand hurts after writing too much. but then again, typing hurts my wrist and whole arm after awhile. doctor said it was tendonitis, but i beg to differ.
and yeah, i may be writing about boring tendonitis type kinda stuff on this bloggy blog. because....i cant get too personal on here. and yes, believe me, there is always personal stuff when it comes to me. im a personal personable person. that was lame.
well, i got a good one. while driving back from tiger's hike today, my mind drifted over to a recent time i got to spend with a grown son and even more grown father. they've had a rocky relationship complete with all the delicious dysfunction that a war veteran can offer his family. this war vet papa was telling us about war buddies he had that killed themselves after returning home from vietnam. i asked him what does he think kept him from taking that road (was that inappropriate of me to ask?) and he pointed at his son as a reply. he said it was his children that kept him from going  down the extra dark road. i felt so lucky to be sitting amongst such love. like real, solid, gnarly love. complete with dysfunctions, disappointments, hurts, histories...it was a real love. love so thick i think i could've cut it with a knife.