<?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-438723455157037676</id><updated>2011-11-15T15:02:34.381+02:00</updated><category term='Kyle'/><category term='other'/><category term='present'/><category term='May'/><category term='past'/><title type='text'>The Love Story</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>36</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-7386271268362033567</id><published>2011-04-27T07:17:00.024+03:00</published><updated>2011-05-03T06:56:03.110+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Solong US</title><content type='html'>America(The US) is where I've lived my entire life. I was born there, I went to school there, and it's where my family is...well now only part of it. For my entire life, The US is where I've called home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was born in Toms River, New Jersey and studied at Pine Beach Elementary and later Intermediate West. I grew up 3 blocks away from Beachwood beach and in the summer I'd go to Seaside Heights no less than a few times a week with my brothers. We'd surf, walk the boardwalk, eat Sawmill pizza and cheese-steaks and get sun burnt so badly that my mother would threaten my brothers(never me, I was the good one). It was the life...and I didn't think I wanted anything else. Would you? In 2002 I moved to Washington State with my family. In a teal Hyundai Santa Fe, my mom, Step-Dad, sister and I traveled 20 days across the country. It was hard leaving my close-knit family but was an experience of a lifetime to see the country. &lt;br /&gt;(My house in New Jersey)&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q-nG18iMyQ0/Tb9yKDbEjFI/AAAAAAAAAHg/hU6iSzoC4dw/s1600/SANY9636.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q-nG18iMyQ0/Tb9yKDbEjFI/AAAAAAAAAHg/hU6iSzoC4dw/s320/SANY9636.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602321978515295314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Pine Beach Elementary)&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N2stJqE1NW0/Tb9wMPyE_YI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/fVeBOaGDd8E/s1600/SANY9628.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N2stJqE1NW0/Tb9wMPyE_YI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/fVeBOaGDd8E/s320/SANY9628.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602319817169501570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Mayo Park where I'd meet up with friends and play)&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gRDGsEmdvBs/Tb9xYoqCU8I/AAAAAAAAAHY/kNcFjvAi2Zg/s1600/SANY9631.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gRDGsEmdvBs/Tb9xYoqCU8I/AAAAAAAAAHY/kNcFjvAi2Zg/s320/SANY9631.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602321129516716994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;We started with the old Pennsylvania Dutch and Amish communities in Southern Pennsylvania and rode horses through Civil War battle fields in Gettysburg. The lifestyle was different and I was shocked to see Amish buggies on the road. We drove through almost every state between AZ and PA. The Grand Canyon at sunset was unimaginable and Las Vegas was so much fun as you can imagine. After that we met my Step-Dad's son in LA to go to California Adventures(Disney Land and Universal Studios) and then drove up the West coast. We stood in the Great Redwood Forest, stopped at lighthouses in Oregon and drove over the Astoria-Megler Bridge which is about 4 miles long into Washington State. We lived on Whidbey Island, WA for about 3 years and enjoyed hiking, camping, fishing, and moved again to North Carolina. The culture shock was enough to make even the most outgoing individual into a recluse without some sort of help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Mountain biking in Fort Ebey, WA)&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y9HdROnbyGc/Tb91IzwyFnI/AAAAAAAAAHo/FH97cseycMg/s1600/7-13-08%2Bwa%2B080.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y9HdROnbyGc/Tb91IzwyFnI/AAAAAAAAAHo/FH97cseycMg/s320/7-13-08%2Bwa%2B080.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602325255666407026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(The scenery) &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aIYDFBs2bfo/Tb92zO8tP_I/AAAAAAAAAHw/-eQsxIUsO54/s1600/washington%2Btag.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aIYDFBs2bfo/Tb92zO8tP_I/AAAAAAAAAHw/-eQsxIUsO54/s320/washington%2Btag.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602327084030312434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Golfing with the Pros)&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5chl7pFVlHY/Tb94xgEaK6I/AAAAAAAAAIA/lLDI-eIFoP0/s1600/7-13-08%2Bwa%2B289.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5chl7pFVlHY/Tb94xgEaK6I/AAAAAAAAAIA/lLDI-eIFoP0/s320/7-13-08%2Bwa%2B289.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602329253289536418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Throwing the Island)&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--VV5FbjAlWk/Tb93f8uZSEI/AAAAAAAAAH4/sAY3cHunOG0/s1600/7-13-08%2Bwa%2B217.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--VV5FbjAlWk/Tb93f8uZSEI/AAAAAAAAAH4/sAY3cHunOG0/s320/7-13-08%2Bwa%2B217.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602327852232558658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was difficult learning to enjoy the opportunities I had but so worth it. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PzK35hgQgsg/Tb95kM_-JFI/AAAAAAAAAII/VUL46ReIf04/s1600/7-13-08%2Bwa%2B426.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PzK35hgQgsg/Tb95kM_-JFI/AAAAAAAAAII/VUL46ReIf04/s320/7-13-08%2Bwa%2B426.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602330124343977042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In New Jersey I loved the beautiful sunrises, the school system is was in, my family living close, the beach, the beach, the beach :) and the boardwalk next to it! Washington I loved the beautiful lush surroundings, the hiking in the mountains, and particularly the history in that part of the country. In North Carolina, the fields of crops, the southern hospitality, the food (with the exceptions of pickled pigs feet and fried snickers bars) and of course, the weather are all things I loved! With every move a person has to adapt but it's always worth it in some way. I became the person I am today because of these experiences. There are so many great people in each place I've lived and most importantly, I met the perfect girl and you know the story from there!&lt;br /&gt;(Sigma gamma Chi dance at the University of Utah)&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8wkLjTiu3zA/Tb98IXr_wpI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/speYi8pTo30/s1600/SANY0079.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8wkLjTiu3zA/Tb98IXr_wpI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/speYi8pTo30/s320/SANY0079.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602332944711533202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it's time for a life together in another place but not just a different state!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-7386271268362033567?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/7386271268362033567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2011/04/solong-us.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/7386271268362033567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/7386271268362033567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2011/04/solong-us.html' title='Solong US'/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06482586080989113125</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S4OieZKKA3I/AAAAAAAAABg/_V59-bJ9NX0/S220/Beach+082.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q-nG18iMyQ0/Tb9yKDbEjFI/AAAAAAAAAHg/hU6iSzoC4dw/s72-c/SANY9636.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-5856400611796728598</id><published>2011-01-03T00:10:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2011-01-03T00:10:49.711+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='present'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='May'/><title type='text'>"Marika, will you marry me?"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TSD3TRrcr_I/AAAAAAAAJ6Y/4ooXgl1NPg0/s1600/DSC08049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="352" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TSD3TRrcr_I/AAAAAAAAJ6Y/4ooXgl1NPg0/s400/DSC08049.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a while - ok, more than half a year - since the last time we updated anything. The main reason is laziness, I'm not even going to make up excuses. Anyway, a lot of things have happened since the last time and the people that follow my other blog are aware of the main points. At least they know that I'm spending half a year as an au pair in Salt Lake City, Utah, with Kyle while he's going to school. Actually I moved out of my family before I came to spend Christmas in New Jersey and North Carolina but that's a story for another time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TSD3cTPVuHI/AAAAAAAAJ6c/xuzX-ba6XDY/s1600/DSC08051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TSD3cTPVuHI/AAAAAAAAJ6c/xuzX-ba6XDY/s400/DSC08051.JPG" width="300" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been almost three months that we've been able to be together. We've had our ups and downs and we even discovered that we knew how to argue. It was a big change from never seeing each other to seeing daily. However, we've grown closer together and I can't even describe how I feel about him. He's the person I want to spend my life with. I want to wake up next to him every morning and go to sleep together. I want to eat together and cook together (which is a nightmare because we don't agree on anything but I love it regardless) &amp;nbsp;and joke around while doing that. I want to call him randomly at work just because I thought about him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TSD3eR46n2I/AAAAAAAAJ6g/ZRGnIsahNwA/s1600/DSC08052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="143" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TSD3eR46n2I/AAAAAAAAJ6g/ZRGnIsahNwA/s320/DSC08052.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On that note I have a confession to make: Kyle proposed on New Year's eve and we're engaged. We've been talking about it for a while because he decided he wouldn't go on his mission. We had been looking for rings and we found the perfect one but he convinced me he didn't buy it then and when he went back to get it, they didn't have it anymore. Well, on New Year's eve we went to the track field where we first met and at 4.25 p.m (we met April 25th) he took something out of his pocket, bent down on his knee and ask me if I would marry him. No need to say what my answer was. I guess we all got the ending we were waiting for. I don't know how often will I write on this blog but I'll probably write about the wedding preparations here. We haven't decided on a date yet but we're gonna get married both in the U.S and Finland.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, May&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-5856400611796728598?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/5856400611796728598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2011/01/marika-will-you-marry-me.html#comment-form' title='30 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/5856400611796728598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/5856400611796728598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2011/01/marika-will-you-marry-me.html' title='&quot;Marika, will you marry me?&quot;'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TSD3TRrcr_I/AAAAAAAAJ6Y/4ooXgl1NPg0/s72-c/DSC08049.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>30</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-3095521929066788994</id><published>2010-06-05T16:30:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2010-06-05T17:34:45.108+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/TApfJ-etzYI/AAAAAAAAAGw/a2PfFEI2ilo/s1600/may+and+I+at+the+park.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 166px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/TApfJ-etzYI/AAAAAAAAAGw/a2PfFEI2ilo/s320/may+and+I+at+the+park.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479296521644920194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Today is Marika's 19th Birthday and I wanted to write something. Maybe it's because it's her birthday. Maybe it's the fact that her present hasn't come yet and I want her to know how much I care. Maybe it's just that I'm not next to her and miss her so much. What ever the reason may be, I love you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want you to know that you are the most amazing girl and the most important one in my life(after my mom of course.) You make me smile. You make me laugh. You make my day so much better and I'm sure everyone else you meet would say the same thing. No matter how long the nights are, the sun will come up. In not too long it will seem like it never sets. &lt;br /&gt;I love you Marika Pekkanen. Happy 19th birthday! I hope it's perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, Kyle&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-3095521929066788994?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/3095521929066788994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/06/today-is-marikas-19th-birthday-and-i.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/3095521929066788994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/3095521929066788994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/06/today-is-marikas-19th-birthday-and-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06482586080989113125</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S4OieZKKA3I/AAAAAAAAABg/_V59-bJ9NX0/S220/Beach+082.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/TApfJ-etzYI/AAAAAAAAAGw/a2PfFEI2ilo/s72-c/may+and+I+at+the+park.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-4881353831607895795</id><published>2010-05-07T06:01:00.019+03:00</published><updated>2010-05-07T09:40:40.773+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='present'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kyle'/><title type='text'>The race of time...a time to race</title><content type='html'>Marika and I have some time before we can see eachother again. To be brief, it's been difficult. Two months have passed by us since we've been together. I know it's hard for me but I can only imagine what it's truly like for May. We both have our weak points which sometimes show more than we'd like. We've talked every day which in itself is hard for the both of us. I'm sure it seems to some like we're wasting our time...but I don't think so. Yes, we both have other things we can do that will move us forward in life but just think about a relationship that you have. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How often do you sit down and just talk? Do you get to do this everyday? Every week?Ever? For us we talk on average about an hour and a half daily. It's probably only because we don't have eachother around but I have found that this is something that I enjoy. I don't want to give this up even when we are together. Looking at the time I have "lost" or "wasted" I've personally learned so much. Not only about Marika, but about myself as well. Sometimes what I learn isn't pleasant but it's who I am and it's who May is. May is so wonderful when she shows it. She usually does and it's amazing to me every time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At times it's quiet, either we can't think of anything else to say or we don't want to say anything. Even with the occasional silence, it's not wasted. The time is ours, atleast for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've both been doing the usual things...May goes to school, studies way too much and often goes for a jog or swimming or doing things with her friends. She sold some of her clothes and shoes at a type of flee market recently which I thought was cool. She watches a couple shows like Gossip girl or Finlands version of next top model but mostly she studies for school(I'm not so sure of how much studying actually occurs though :). She has, if you ask me, way to many books to read for school but that's just school. She's so smart too. Sometimes I feel a little out of my league when it comes to studies. I did great in school here (U.S.) but school here and school abroad are seemingly on opposite sides of the scale. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For myself I have been working everyday, with an occasional fun activity mixed in when I can. After 8-10 hours of work a day, it seems hard to eat, sleep, talk, and have the energy to plan and do other things. We have a little farm so I have kept up with the fruit trees. I enjoy landscaping so every chance I get to put in some more roses or prune something I do. I rode the horse this week which was...alright. My dog is a lot of fun to be around too. Recently I had the opportunity to race in a Triathlon in Wilmington which was really great. I went with my friend Henry and his dad and mom. His dad beat me by 10 seconds so it was lame but I was just happy to complete it. There was a fair going on the day before the race so it was nice to walk around and do things. I took some pictures of everything&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S-OZD5tfHBI/AAAAAAAAAFY/vvfUSZISD78/s1600/SANY5750.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S-OZD5tfHBI/AAAAAAAAAFY/vvfUSZISD78/s320/SANY5750.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468382664868174866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S-OaEfmKByI/AAAAAAAAAFg/rm4xqXexG8c/s1600/SANY5682.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S-OaEfmKByI/AAAAAAAAAFg/rm4xqXexG8c/s320/SANY5682.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468383774549608226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S-OjSpMyVcI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/nNJIX9MmMAc/s1600/SANY5741.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S-OjSpMyVcI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/nNJIX9MmMAc/s320/SANY5741.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468393913250371010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the fair we walked around, enjoyed the festival food and toured an old sail boat. There were lots of people there and so my friend was pointing out all of the girls he thought were hot. It's not like I am blind but all I could think about was that bright smiling face, laughing and squinting her eyes after me saying something silly. I knew something was wrong when my friend was checking out girls while I was checking out dresses for May but I didn't care. Nothing else really mattered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S-OhEUPnSsI/AAAAAAAAAGA/ehmnAnkb9BI/s1600/SANY5766.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S-OhEUPnSsI/AAAAAAAAAGA/ehmnAnkb9BI/s320/SANY5766.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468391468083661506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S-OiOCyuvQI/AAAAAAAAAGI/3UCiHGeaFTw/s1600/SANY5660.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S-OiOCyuvQI/AAAAAAAAAGI/3UCiHGeaFTw/s320/SANY5660.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468392734709431554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S-OciMNsg-I/AAAAAAAAAFw/dx5eq6_AgaE/s1600/SANY5724.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S-OciMNsg-I/AAAAAAAAAFw/dx5eq6_AgaE/s320/SANY5724.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468386483766068194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to bed early in preparation for the race but I couldn't even sleep. Then they started lighting off fireworks which were really great, until the noise set off an alarm to a nearby Hummer. After that I just stayed up thinking. I guess what I'm trying to say is although it might seem easier not talking so much, it would be horrible. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S-Oa40Bx3fI/AAAAAAAAAFo/0LfTXCzXxyU/s1600/SANY5683.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S-Oa40Bx3fI/AAAAAAAAAFo/0LfTXCzXxyU/s320/SANY5683.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468384673387372018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S-OgSUmFZwI/AAAAAAAAAF4/bL18lXnKxr4/s1600/SANY5720.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S-OgSUmFZwI/AAAAAAAAAF4/bL18lXnKxr4/s320/SANY5720.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468390609184450306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S-OkDNgVSpI/AAAAAAAAAGY/H4r416zh2X0/s1600/SANY5676.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S-OkDNgVSpI/AAAAAAAAAGY/H4r416zh2X0/s320/SANY5676.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468394747629750930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had fun, stayed focused, and ran the triathlon but she never left my thoughts. I saw couples enjoying eachother's company, and the scenery. It made me want her so badly then I realized that we have something special.I know it's sometimes hard to see the future but I know it's there. It's romance, it's passion, it's understanding, it's sometimes difficult, but it's there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zN7ySoHxvqQ&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, Kyle&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-4881353831607895795?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/4881353831607895795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/05/race-of-timea-time-to-race.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/4881353831607895795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/4881353831607895795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/05/race-of-timea-time-to-race.html' title='The race of time...a time to race'/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06482586080989113125</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S4OieZKKA3I/AAAAAAAAABg/_V59-bJ9NX0/S220/Beach+082.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S-OZD5tfHBI/AAAAAAAAAFY/vvfUSZISD78/s72-c/SANY5750.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-5482880270062386616</id><published>2010-04-25T15:09:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2010-04-25T21:18:32.200+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='present'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='May'/><title type='text'>Happy Anniversary</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S9Qm4RLqS3I/AAAAAAAAI2E/j4zKmvbvaso/s1600/DSC06269.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S9Qm4RLqS3I/AAAAAAAAI2E/j4zKmvbvaso/s400/DSC06269.JPG" width="340" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I was working yesterday when my co-worker came to tell me that I had a flower delivery downstairs. When I got there, this cranky deliverer gave me a huge packet and left, saying nothing more than "here". I opened the packet and there was twelve, perfect, red roses there with a &amp;nbsp;card that said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"I want you to know&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I was thinking of you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You're the most beautiful&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;girl in the world, Marika.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You're amazing, smart,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;kind, funny, unique...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;but most importantly&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;you're mine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love you Marika&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Happy Anniversary"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I know, I have the most perfect, amazing boyfriend that anyone could ever wish for. When I got the roses, I felt like the happies girl on earth. Actually, I feel like that all the time when I think of Kyle. He makes me so happy. And not because he gives me presents but because of who he is. I feel like I repeate him when I say that he's smart, funny, handsome, amazing, and kind, but the truth is that he's all that but also a lot more. I wish you could see how amazing he really is. Sometimes he really makes me wonder if he's real or not. Sometimes it feels like he just jumped out of the most romantic movie ever. I just hope we'll have the movie ending as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kyle, I just want you to know that you're the one that I want. You're the best thing that's happened to me and I don't ever want to let you go. When I met you, I also learnt what was a true happiness and love. I don't want these feelings go away and I don't want you to go anywhere. This was our first anniversary but I really hope this is not our last - and I don't think it will. I love you Kyle Patrick. &amp;lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-5482880270062386616?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/5482880270062386616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/04/happy-anniversary.html#comment-form' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/5482880270062386616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/5482880270062386616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/04/happy-anniversary.html' title='Happy Anniversary'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S9Qm4RLqS3I/AAAAAAAAI2E/j4zKmvbvaso/s72-c/DSC06269.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-2471371894035768590</id><published>2010-04-20T20:00:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2010-04-21T20:56:20.759+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kyle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='other'/><title type='text'>LDS Mormons part 2</title><content type='html'>The Book of Mormon is a record of a people. They are the words of prophets and testify of Christ. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We worship God the Father. Jesus Christ is our savior/saviour I think that's how Europeans spell it :) Joseph Smith was a prophet, a man of God...we don't worship him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=http://www.lds.org/library/display/0,4945,106-1-2-1,FF.html&gt;These are my beliefs called The Articles of Faith&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href=http://www.lds.org/ldsorg/v/index.jsp?hideNav=1&amp;amp;locale=0&amp;amp;sourceId=56c6991a83d20110VgnVCM100000176f620a____&amp;amp;vgnextoid=5158f4b13819d110VgnVCM1000003a94610aRCRD&gt;these the rules to health&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our Heavenly Father loves us and often gives us so much even if we aren't doing everything we should. He desires for us to be happy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Prophet Thomas S. Monson and other priesthood authorities spoke this April which was broadcast worldwide. They have it interpreted in like 80+ languages...I listened to the Finnish/Suomi one and it was crazy. About 12 minutes through, the translator sounded a little like a chicken laying an egg. Haha, and he laughs later on...it's great&lt;br /&gt;Any way here's the link to &lt;a href=http://www.lds.org/conference/languages/0,6353,310-1,00.html&gt;hear&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I didn't put enough spinach dip on your tortilla chip (May's favorite appetizer!) then you can order some more. Ha, but really if I didn't cover something that you wanted to know then you can go to this website: &lt;a href=htttp://www.mormon.org&gt;www.mormon.org&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I plan on working or going to school and then serving the Lord on a two-year mission. From the world's outlook on this it seems like blind obedience. Many of our ideas of success can sometimes be measurable in forms such as; expensive clothes, furnished homes, businesses, automobiles or pleasure boats. I'm not saying that these things in themselves are bad, but it's easy to make these our idols. It's easy to say that I will work and establish myself first with all that I desire and then I'll be able to give service and pay tithing. Even in Jesus' time people thought of good ideas to keep themselves on track with living commandments. Good ideas are exactly that, good, but they shouldn't distract us from the better eternal principles. For example, when Jesus was accused of working on the sabbath day. He taught that it was more important to live the spirit of the law. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How does this affect me? All of these things influence my attitude on life. I understand the significance of living this way. If I'm not filled with inner peace, outward love, and honesty to myself, others, and God, then I'll never be happy. I don't want to be common. We are commanded to Love God with all our hearts. When ye are in the service of your fellow man, ye are only in the service of your God.  That's what I want to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CkKblIMfmjI&amp;amp;feature=channel&gt;This&lt;/a&gt; is a short clip that I found. If not anything else, maybe you'll see where I'm coming from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kyle&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-2471371894035768590?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/2471371894035768590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/04/lds-mormons-part-2.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/2471371894035768590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/2471371894035768590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/04/lds-mormons-part-2.html' title='LDS Mormons part 2'/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06482586080989113125</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S4OieZKKA3I/AAAAAAAAABg/_V59-bJ9NX0/S220/Beach+082.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-1521018376786270249</id><published>2010-04-17T18:34:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2010-04-21T20:58:13.686+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kyle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='other'/><title type='text'>LDS/ Mormons Part 1</title><content type='html'>The purpose of this is not to persuade anyone or to give the basis for an argument. This is a blog about A Love Story. It is a story about Marika and I. We've received comments to learn more about being LDS so I guess I shouldn't put it off anymore. I will also consider that what you asked for was a taste, so take into consideration that it's an appetizer, not a 5 course meal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Plan&lt;br /&gt;God is our loving father in heaven. He created us in His own image. He wanted us to have the joy and happiness that He has. We learn through our experiences. We need the freedom to choose, to decide for ourselves and experience the consequences. God cannot be in the presence of sin. Knowing that no one is perfect, we were given a place to learn, Earth. Jesus Christ's atonement, suffering in the Garden of Gethsemane as well as His suffering and death on the cross, was central to our Father's plan of salvation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christ's Ministry&lt;br /&gt;Latter-day saint reflects on the church that Jesus set up on Earth. He called twelve apostles and laid hands upon them and gave them the power and authority to act in His name. The teachings of Christ and the gospel of repentance was taught and given in the perfect state. After Christ was crucified and the apostles were killed off, that authority was taken from the earth. Even though Christ was not unitedly accepted, not all were bad. There were those who wanted to learn of the gospel and began teaching. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Telephone&lt;br /&gt;There is a game frequently played in elementary school called telephone. It probably has more than one name but I don't know any others. The game is as follows: Students sit in a circle. The teacher whispers a sentence or message into a students ear. The student then whispers to the next student etc. When the message is carried to the end of the circle then the student stands and voices the message. Then the teacher says what the message was originally. Sometimes the sentence is accurate while other times the message is something totally different. I'm sure everyone knows what causes the message to change but I'll write a few anyway. People sometimes forget what was said, others missunderstand the message and then sometimes, there are kids for lack of better reason feel like being funny and change the message into something they think is better. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The church&lt;br /&gt;After Christ, His apostles and many of His followers were killed, that priesthood authority that Christ gave to his apostles was lost. There was no one to teach the people and so, just like the telephone game, the interpretation of His teachings were taken and slowly changed. When something was not accurate to one's understanding then they corrected it sometimes starting their own church to teach as they felt right. In my belief, this is why there are so many religions and churches. Each have been based off of good, righteous desires or intentions with different spins or modifications to work for the peoples' understanding and way of life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prophets&lt;br /&gt;Prophets are men called of God and given power and authority to teach and interpret the will of God for the benefit of man. A prophet acts in God's name. He can talk directly to God, face to face. Adam was the first prophet. God revealed the gospel to him. The Lord's plan or gospel has been revealed over and over again through direct communication to prophets such as Noah, Abraham, and Moses. After time people used their free agency and became lifted up in their own pride. When a prophet is rejected or killed, the priesthood power is taken from the earth. Yes, we can have personal relationships with our Father in heaven but a prophet reveals the will of God to the Earth. We can all recall working in a group or organization/lack thereof when there is not someone called to lead. Sometimes people are specifically good at different things. All it takes is someone who can organize and lead towards the end goal. At this time we have a prophet, who is called of God and is much like a watchman on a tower to warn us of incoming dangers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is more specific information coming&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kyle&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-1521018376786270249?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/1521018376786270249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/04/lds-mormons-part-1.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/1521018376786270249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/1521018376786270249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/04/lds-mormons-part-1.html' title='LDS/ Mormons Part 1'/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06482586080989113125</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S4OieZKKA3I/AAAAAAAAABg/_V59-bJ9NX0/S220/Beach+082.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-6186499033663079598</id><published>2010-04-05T11:00:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T11:17:12.703+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='past'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='May'/><title type='text'>Last day of school</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;June 8th, 2009&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 163px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S7mcL9Qi8nI/AAAAAAAAIxM/y5qVBcmo2Ac/s400/bythepool3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456564152772522610" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Today was my last day of school. Actually I didn't really have school. Kyle just came to pick me up in the morning and I went to give my speech to the English teacher about fashion blogs. It took about five minutes and the rest of the day was ours. It felt a bit sad to know I'd most likely never step my feet to the school again but part of me was glad it was over.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After that we went back to my hostparent's and I made us some crepês. My host family had bought me a teflon pan so that I could make them but I never had before that day. I really wanted Kyle taste them because I love crepês so much. And he liked them - at least he told me so and he's a very bad liar. We ate them with strawberries and vanilla ice cream which is the best combination of all times.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S7mcLoJ7ioI/AAAAAAAAIxE/mYHkIl6MYfw/s1600/bythepool2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S7mcLoJ7ioI/AAAAAAAAIxE/mYHkIl6MYfw/s400/bythepool2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456564147107629698" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 142px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S7mcLoJ7ioI/AAAAAAAAIxE/mYHkIl6MYfw/s1600/bythepool2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We didn't have any specific plans but it was really hot outside so there was really nothing else than a pool you want to do in that temperature. Gosh, do I miss that weather.. We spent hours by the pool. Some of the time in the water, other time just laying there sunbathing. Kyle was really tired and I think he actually fell asleep for a moment. At least by the look of his back afterwards. His skin had turned bright red by the time he woke up. I was a little burnt myself but nothing compared to him. We had to go inside to put some aloe vera on his back and to get ready to go eat with my hostparents.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We went to a really nice pizzeria whose owner my hostparents knew. We ordered a huge family size pepperoni pizza for us and spent there for what seemed like forever. We had a nice time but after a while we just really wanted to go spend some time alone. I only had one more week left in the U.S and we wanted to make the best of it. Once again, it had been an amazing day and I had enjoyed every second of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S7mcLb1OJ4I/AAAAAAAAIw8/aNdqMc27yLM/s1600/bythepool.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S7mcLb1OJ4I/AAAAAAAAIw8/aNdqMc27yLM/s400/bythepool.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456564143799543682" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 195px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S7mcLb1OJ4I/AAAAAAAAIw8/aNdqMc27yLM/s1600/bythepool.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Love, May&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-6186499033663079598?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/6186499033663079598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/04/last-day-of-school.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/6186499033663079598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/6186499033663079598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/04/last-day-of-school.html' title='Last day of school'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S7mcL9Qi8nI/AAAAAAAAIxM/y5qVBcmo2Ac/s72-c/bythepool3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-3628724912233826058</id><published>2010-04-02T17:57:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2010-04-02T18:21:53.876+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='past'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='May'/><title type='text'>My 18th birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;June 6th, 2009&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 255px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S7YLW4sGvWI/AAAAAAAAIwM/53MXQGSgk-Q/s400/birthday.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455560486408338786" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My birthday was the day before but because it was a school day and Kyle had to work at night so he decided to come the next day. He was supposed to call me when he left but he never did.. Luckily I had set my alarm so I woke up and took a shower before he came. I had missed him on my birthday and wished he had been able to be there. But he was now and we were going to make the best of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our day started of well. It wasn't the warmest morning but we had wanted to go swimming so there we went. The wather in a pool was around 90°F (32°C) so it was very pleasant. We wanted to take some pictures of us in a pool but we had nowhere to put the camera. Kyle had an amazing idea to put it on a towel by the pool. The first few pictures everything was fine but then we see the camera falling into the pool in a slow motion. Needless to say that I never took another picture with it. And that's also why I don't have any more pictures of that day either.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S7YLWICTBgI/AAAAAAAAIwE/tCJhIB0lXGY/s1600/birthday2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S7YLWICTBgI/AAAAAAAAIwE/tCJhIB0lXGY/s400/birthday2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455560473348081154" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 158px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S7YLWICTBgI/AAAAAAAAIwE/tCJhIB0lXGY/s1600/birthday2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Of course I was highly upset. Not because of Kyle - even though it was his idea - but of me because I was stupid enough to not think about it. Well, I learnt my lesson and I've been extremely cautious with cameras and water since then. Anyway, after a while I was fine and we went to get something to eat. I have no memory of where or how it was. The only other thing I remember is when we're on the parking lot of Walmart and Kyle gives me my presents. He had bought me a palm tree key chain which turns pink when sun's out and a braid bracelet identical with his. He also had an article about us where we're at his job interview. I thought the presents were really cute and he had put a lot of thought into them. He knew I loved palm trees and beach and the bracelet was the cutest ever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Unfortunately he had to go work that evening so he had to take me home after 2 p.m. I had had an amazing day, as usual, and I couldn't wait to see him again. It wasn't the 18th birthday I had imagined but it was hundred times better. I got to be with the person I love the most.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Love, May&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-3628724912233826058?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/3628724912233826058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/04/my-18th-birthday.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/3628724912233826058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/3628724912233826058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/04/my-18th-birthday.html' title='My 18th birthday'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S7YLW4sGvWI/AAAAAAAAIwM/53MXQGSgk-Q/s72-c/birthday.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-5836879760131938862</id><published>2010-03-30T21:16:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2010-03-30T21:28:54.181+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='present'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='May'/><title type='text'>Trailing thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/h8Hgp150Eno&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/h8Hgp150Eno&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still alive. I've really wanted to update the blog earlier but the truth is that I've had so many other things - like my finals - to do that I haven't been able to concentrate on blogging. Pretty much the only pastime I've had I've spent talking to Kyle on Skype. There's been days that we've talked for over 5 hours and the others that we've been able to talk less than an hour. Luckily not that many of them.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We got a comment a while ago that had a link to a song that's later become the song I rely on when I'm feeling down and when I miss him more than usually. It's done some getting used to Finland again and it feels like nothing matters anymore. The last thing I wanna do is to be right here right now. It was hard to leave U.S and it didn't get any easier with time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My days have gone pretty much the same since I got back. I go to school in the morning - or to work on weekends - then I come home, cook and do my homework waiting for Kyle to wake up and get on skype. The rest of the night goes by talking to him. I remember the time when I waited for him to call me at night when I was still in U.S. It's the same again. I get anxious if he doesn't come early and start thinking about all the possibilities that could have happened if he's late. Then I start thinking about what if he didn't come at all. Of course most of the time the reason is that he was still asleep or he had something important to do. They say that the time goes by slowly waiting and I totally have to agree with that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can imagine Kyle reading this post and laughing at me. He can tell when I'm not thinking what I'm writing because at some points it doesn't make any sense. It's just my thoughts straight from my head to the paper. He's different, he has to think so much before he writes anything and it makes him write slow. Of course his writing is better in result but I just can't bring myself into thinking about what I'm writing too much. Sometimes I do but most of the time I just write.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kyle always wants to know what's in my head and he doesn't like it when I say: "nothing". Now I thought I'd just write about what's in my head. I hope he can understand at least some of it. Maybe he'll also realize that there's really nothing exciting going on in my head. Just trailing thoughts that don't make any sense. And I really lost my originaly subject. Which I had none, to be honest. I just felt I wanted to write something. The point was that I miss him and I only got to talk to him today for 2 hours and I was really tired when we were talking so I would've wanted to talk to him longer. Now I'm gonna stop writing because this really doesn't make any sense. Peace and good night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Love, May&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-5836879760131938862?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/5836879760131938862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/trailing-thoughts.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/5836879760131938862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/5836879760131938862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/trailing-thoughts.html' title='Trailing thoughts'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-1087010622379417871</id><published>2010-03-21T06:49:00.012+02:00</published><updated>2010-03-21T08:55:41.540+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='past'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kyle'/><title type='text'>Words between the lines...Thoughts between the memories</title><content type='html'>I never asked to meet May, in fact I never expected it at that track meet. What I didn't realize at first is now so clear to me. I always try to remember when I pray to thank Heavenly Father for the things He's blessed me with. I also sometimes find myself asking for the opportunities I need to grow. I've prayed for many things, but recently I've realized that meeting May was anything but coincidence. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This exotic, beautiful, smart, funny, classy, young lady was in reality, an answer to my prayers. After some time, I have realized that I did ask for her. The Lord gives us opportunities, sometimes blessings while others are trials that require us to make choices. We need trials to grow because it allows us to stretch ourselves. We learn many things but until we are tested on the material, it seems like useless knowledge. I'm not saying meeting May was a trial but what I am saying was that the timing of the blessing gave me the opportunity to make a lot of choices. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Marika came into my life, it was great. We were both in High school and really hit it off(I'll write more about this later). It was sweet to see how well we got along. Soon after, May had to return home. It was difficult because of the difference in our lives and for the sake of time, our cultures. We were used to different lives which were thousands of miles apart. I had just fallen in love with her though. What were we supposed to do? I planned on going on a mission and May still had to finish school. I don't blame her for ending it when she did, but I didn't expect it nor did I want it. The time after we broke up was really hard for me. I am obviously not May so I wont try to speak for her. I can however share with you the experience I had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We both tried to move on...not so much by desire but more because of theory and thinking. You've heard how it was hard for Marika, so now you can take a walk in my shoes. I had such control over my life. I knew my goals and dreams. I even started preparing for the life I sought to make. Then that exotic, smart, funny, pretty young lady ran by my view and I couldn't stop my gaze. I was fixed. No sooner was that view gone, but only in real life...It only took a few clever notes of a song to bring me to a sweet memory...or a quiet moment for that smiling face to fill my thoughts. Everywhere I turned brought her back to me, but everywhere I looked, I couldn't find her...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought, prayed, read, sang, cried, I even wrote poems. I just assumed she didn't feel the same as I felt. How could she after doing this? I wanted so much for us to be together. We talked but not enough for me to say anything serious. What could I offer to her anyway? I was leaving, I had no money or time to offer. I could only give my feelings and I didn't think that was enough. I couldn't make her stay, because it's her choice. I had to let her go. Not that I wanted to but because it would be selfish to ask her to stay. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The time went by and I couldn't stop it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May came here :) Those times we had with eachother are some of the most precious moments in my life. I know I want them again. I want her again. I know I have something I am going to do but I know that it will make me more of the person I want to be. The person who will be ready to face all of life's challenges. The person who is ready to give when others only seek to take. I want to make people happier and when I have experienced a life of serving, I can't wait for the day I have someone to be with me every step of the way. Someone who I can enjoy every moment of life we have :) but it's a choice I can't make alone. &lt;br /&gt;I love you May.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, Kyle&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-1087010622379417871?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/1087010622379417871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/words-between-linesthe-thoughts-between.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/1087010622379417871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/1087010622379417871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/words-between-linesthe-thoughts-between.html' title='Words between the lines...Thoughts between the memories'/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06482586080989113125</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S4OieZKKA3I/AAAAAAAAABg/_V59-bJ9NX0/S220/Beach+082.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-6028839732563624002</id><published>2010-03-17T20:03:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-03-17T20:42:08.405+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='past'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='present'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='May'/><title type='text'>The break up</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I feel like going to the U.S was a mistake. Not because it wasn't the best vacation of my life, it truly was, but because now it feels impossible to be away from him even just for a few hours let along for two years. I hated to leave the first time but it I was also excited to go home, plus I wasn't used to spending every minute with Kyle. Last week he was the first person I saw in the morning and the last one to leave tell me good night before I fell asleep.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kyle already told you guys about the main things that happened. I'm going to write more about them later but I want our dates to be in a chronological order, which means I have to write about some older ones first. Instead I just want to let him know how I feel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember leaving the U.S the first time. It was one of the hardest things I've had to do in my life. I had no idea when I was going to see the people I learnt to love again. I had never felt so strongly for anyone before Kyle and I didn't want it to end. I told him I didn't want us to break up and at first that's what I really thought. However, after the summer I started feeling like it wasn't worth it. I thought I couldn't wait for two years without knowing whether it would work out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Breaking up with Kyle was - again - among the hardest decisions of my life. I knew I'd be happier with him but I felt like I wasn't good enough, not strong enough to last the time. It also felt like it was slowly fading away. We didn't talk that often anymore and it always took days to receive messages and reply to them. I guess I just didn't want to 'waste' two years of my life, I wasn't sure anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We still talked after that and it always made me really happy to hear from him. More than once I wanted to tell him it was a mistake to ever break up but I didn't want to play with his heart - nor mine. So I just decided to keep quiet and try to move on. I still kept comparing everyone to him and of course no one could be as great. The truth is that I wasn't happy without him. It just took me a while to realize.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A little over a month ago we were on Facebook at the same time and started talking. We hadn't talked much in a while and first we were just having a small talk. I don't know how or why, but soon the conversation turned its course and he ended up telling me that he still loved me, well sort of. After that conversation he was the only thing I could think about. I had already thought about going back to U.S to see my friends and my host family because I missed them a lot. And I have to admit that I missed America too...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then, the day before Valentine's day, I opened my American phone for the first time in eight months. I was surprised it still worked but then I couldn't resist the urge to call him. Needless to say he was surprised. He was on his way to work so we didn't talk for that long. After hanging up I called my hostparents to see if I could stay at theirs and they agreed. Of course I hadn't mentioned anything to Kyle about my plans yet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On Valentine's day we talked on Skype for a long time. I had decided I wanted to write a blog about us so that I would never again forget how I felt. Two weeks later I stepped on the plane and it was probably the best decision I've ever made. I had the best time with the guy that I love the most on earth. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The only problem was that I had to leave him, again. I didn't want to and those two weeks came into an end way too fast. If it was hard to leave on the first time, it was hundred times worse now. I think it was because I had figured out what I wanted and I had realized that I couldn't be happier with anyone else. I'm just so grateful that Kyle gave me another chance because otherwise I would've spent the rest of my life thinking what ifs. Even if it doesn't work out in the end, I still got a chance to be happy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Love, May&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-6028839732563624002?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/6028839732563624002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/break-up.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/6028839732563624002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/6028839732563624002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/break-up.html' title='The break up'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-3079888915727735913</id><published>2010-03-15T03:53:00.022+02:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T07:19:27.738+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='present'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kyle'/><title type='text'>The grand finale</title><content type='html'>The last 3 days of the trip!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday we had planned on going bowling with some of my friends and then ice skating. The day of this adventure my friend checked the times of everything and he said that the iceskating rink didn't have a free skate that night. I guess I wasn't totally focused on making phone calls, or checking the availability of these companies. I was more interested in spending every waking hour with the girl who seemed to make everything much more fun, the one who made every minute the best minute of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S525V4Nm0oI/AAAAAAAAAEI/C8W70-mblrU/s1600-h/SANY5298.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S525V4Nm0oI/AAAAAAAAAEI/C8W70-mblrU/s320/SANY5298.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448714909706015362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We planned on meeting up with everyone at 5 so we had a few hours to hang out and we did just that! It was amazing. Then we went to walmart to pick up a swim suit for May and then we went to Habachi buffet. She wanted to go but I think she remembered it being better than it was. Everyone has spent a day working in the sun or doing something active and the most basic ham and cheese sandwhich tastes better than the main dish at a 5 star resaurant. Last time we were coming from regionals so it was really delicious. She tried a few things and didn't like them and got some more and ate a little, meanwhile I'm stuffing my face with whatever I felt the urge to put on my plate. No sushi this time though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S526mOIKAeI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/B8xNg2thCa0/s1600-h/SANY5313.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S526mOIKAeI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/B8xNg2thCa0/s320/SANY5313.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448716289978270178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S527b-pakPI/AAAAAAAAAEY/G4IGNX3B-i4/s1600-h/SANY5314.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S527b-pakPI/AAAAAAAAAEY/G4IGNX3B-i4/s320/SANY5314.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448717213535736050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S528A_SiW5I/AAAAAAAAAEg/YmwU5HG0qQ0/s1600-h/SANY5310.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S528A_SiW5I/AAAAAAAAAEg/YmwU5HG0qQ0/s320/SANY5310.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448717849363372946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that we met up with the guys at the bowling alley and had a great time...atleast I did. My friend Henry was hitting on May and I was a little jealous but it was all just fun. After bowling we headed off to Oran's for some pool, ping pong and the 12 man jacuzzi! We started playing pool which was pretty mellow and then moved to ping pong. Ofcourse when you have 6 wrestlers and a female audience the games become more like a competition. The boys started to play sting pong( for those of you who are not familiar with it, it is ping pong except when you mess up...you lift your shirt and the other person hits the ball in your direction). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May didn't seem to like this game, and I don't blame her. We stood in the other room for a minute and decided what we could do so she didn't have to watch. So we went to the neighboring room and started up some video games...I know really what an 18 year old girl wants to be doing, but all of the games they had were about war. Something I've learned with Marika is that she doesn't like violence and I respect her for that. We talked about these things a lot so it was a great learning experience for us :) Then we all got involved in playing around the world which went on to turn into all of us just trying to keep the ball going. After that we called it a night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day was our last day together, Wednesday. We didn't have anything planned so we could do whatever we felt like and have time to talk and just be together. We checked the blog and talked for a while...then May drove us to Sammi's pizza. Bad choice on my part because she kept telling me I had bad breath! Then we walked at the smithfield park, well I walked and May jumped on my back. It was nice but too long so we came home. This is my favorite part!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told May I wanted to go for a walk which was true and somehow I convinced her that there were clams in my ponds in the back yard and that we should look for some. When we got back there she didn't seem very excited so I started to look or atleast pretend to. After a few minutes May started to look and to our surprise we found one! It was really pretty but only half of it was wet...hmmm. So we decided to not waste anymore time and go take it inside. Ok, this was the moment of truth. I can't remember exactly what I said but it worked...May wanted to open it up! What kind of girl wants to open a dead clam? The kind who sees there's a pearl inside! After about 5 minutes she got it out. Pearls come in different colors and this one was creme, which stands for success. I pulled out a necklace and put the pearl inside. Then I told her to wish on the pearl. I wonder what she wished for. She never told me but then I put it around her neck. I thought she sould have realized the moment I pulled out the necklace or atleast when she saw that it fit perfectly inside but...nope. I explained to her that I planned the whole thing and she sat there for a minute taking it all in. :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S528qeknNBI/AAAAAAAAAEo/meFU-ImLTVs/s1600-h/SANY5318.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S528qeknNBI/AAAAAAAAAEo/meFU-ImLTVs/s320/SANY5318.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448718562135323666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S529DWKwu5I/AAAAAAAAAEw/HQEoIQC3LP4/s1600-h/SANY5320.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S529DWKwu5I/AAAAAAAAAEw/HQEoIQC3LP4/s320/SANY5320.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448718989376142226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had our last night planned out with where we would go...I even knew what I would wear but our neighbor offered to make us salmon and we couldn't turn it down. We hadn't been able to really talk with them so it was great. Some of their relatives came over and May could barely understand them. There is something about those rednecks! May picked up the baby before we ate and I guess he had already eaten because he threw up on her. Then to escape we answered those questions.  Don't worry, we had plenty of time left...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S52_je0AnxI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/qkzBiJn5zAo/s1600-h/SANY5161.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S52_je0AnxI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/qkzBiJn5zAo/s320/SANY5161.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448721740475703058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S52-Bs1QxKI/AAAAAAAAAFA/owy2VJaq9nQ/s1600-h/SANY5329.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S52-Bs1QxKI/AAAAAAAAAFA/owy2VJaq9nQ/s320/SANY5329.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448720060611871906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S52-8c08GUI/AAAAAAAAAFI/9xcSz-xWekQ/s1600-h/SANY5330.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S52-8c08GUI/AAAAAAAAAFI/9xcSz-xWekQ/s320/SANY5330.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448721069927831874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday I woke up really early and went over to wake up my sleeping beauty. With no surprise she was already awake. This was the day we wished would never come, but it did all too quickly. We cleaned up, packed, picked up some food and were off to the airport. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S529iKkkM9I/AAAAAAAAAE4/gF9S0BCSWKw/s1600-h/SANY5326.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S529iKkkM9I/AAAAAAAAAE4/gF9S0BCSWKw/s320/SANY5326.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448719518839092178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got there I think it was just before 11. We printed her tickets, checked the bags and then said our goodbyes. May had already begun to show her emotions...I was showing the bottom of my feet from standing on my toes so May wouldn't be taller than me. I'm sure it was a funny sight but there was no way I would have the woman of my dreams remember me being an inch shorter because of a pair of heels! After about 15 goodbyes we made our way to the terminal. I couldn't go any further unless I wanted to be jumped by the 5'2" woman and the 65 year old senior citizen security guards. I might be exaggerating a little but the point is it was the end of the road. May said goodbye and I lost it. I couldn't hold it in any longer so I left...I wanted to watch her go but I couldn't stand there and let her watch me lose it. I'll never forget her face, nor will I forget the stares I got all the way out of the airport. I got to the car and cried like I had lost her forever. We were so in love, why did we have to leave eachother? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way home was horrible. Finally gaining my cool and drove, but it was like getting cut. Even after you stopped the bleeding(leaving her at the airport) it's still sensitive all day and if you're not careful, you can reopen it. I couldn't hold it in so I thought I'd turn on the radio. Music has such an impact on our lives. We can be angry, sad, worried, upset and by just listening to a song we can get our thoughts off track long enough to change our attitude. I was feeling so heartbroken...so what was I waiting for? I turned it on and on comes "love like crazy" by Lee Brice, so I listened and cried and listened some more and then changed the station. Thinking that that was the worst song that would possibly come on I listened for that song I needed to dry my tears... and on comes Pink singing "please, please don't leave me" There was no coming back from this, I was gone. Needless to say how horrible that drive home was. I miss you May&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, Kyle&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-3079888915727735913?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/3079888915727735913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/grand-finale.html#comment-form' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/3079888915727735913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/3079888915727735913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/grand-finale.html' title='The grand finale'/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06482586080989113125</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S4OieZKKA3I/AAAAAAAAABg/_V59-bJ9NX0/S220/Beach+082.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S525V4Nm0oI/AAAAAAAAAEI/C8W70-mblrU/s72-c/SANY5298.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-6831109225499339318</id><published>2010-03-14T18:43:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-03-14T18:48:39.722+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='other'/><title type='text'>Answers part. 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qn4c_eRSKDE&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qn4c_eRSKDE&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center style="text-align: left;"&gt;This video is definitely the worst out of those three. Kyle is getting frustrated and we had already tried to answer the questions like million times before so it was also getting really boring. It was fun for the first time when the questions were new and we were making jokes out of them but the jokes just don't sound fun the second time. &lt;/center&gt;&lt;center style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center style="text-align: left;"&gt;We didn't answer all of the questions, some of them were alike with the others so we tried to answer different questions. Some of them we're going to answer later (Kyle's going to write about mormons later, maybe) because we didn't feel like trying to make yet another tape. If there's something you want to know but you didn't get the answer yet, you can ask us any time and we'll answer in a comment box.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-6831109225499339318?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/6831109225499339318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/answers-part-3.html#comment-form' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/6831109225499339318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/6831109225499339318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/answers-part-3.html' title='Answers part. 3'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-5685604133352952097</id><published>2010-03-13T16:32:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-03-13T16:35:59.970+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='other'/><title type='text'>Answers part. 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/RVFPii7va0I&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/RVFPii7va0I&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center style="text-align: left;"&gt;Here's another part for our answers. The web cam didn't want to co-operate so we answered the same questions at least twice so you can definitely tell we're not that enthusiastic about it anymore. We have one more video after this one but I'll post it later. &lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-5685604133352952097?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/5685604133352952097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/answers-part-2.html#comment-form' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/5685604133352952097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/5685604133352952097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/answers-part-2.html' title='Answers part. 2'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-6913153439635185050</id><published>2010-03-11T20:27:00.037+02:00</published><updated>2010-03-13T09:32:16.895+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='present'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kyle'/><title type='text'>Our time rushing by</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S5s-SF4r8pI/AAAAAAAAIqc/_gCFWMYifqM/s1600-h/lovestory.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 163px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S5s-SF4r8pI/AAAAAAAAIqc/_gCFWMYifqM/s400/lovestory.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448016654773252754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was unmistakeably the most heart-wrenching day of my life...but I'll get to that in moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marika and I have had a truly wonderful time while she's been here. We have done so much...&lt;br /&gt;We didn't get very much sleep while May was here and while she's on her way back I thought I'd catch everyone up on some of the activities we have done. I'm sure Marika will have some things to add...especially her pictures but she has her finals coming up so I'm not sure when that will be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S5smBsLWqFI/AAAAAAAAACg/ZMdA6LJf2OU/s1600-h/SANY5235.JPG"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Friday, after we ate, went shopping, and visited her 1st host parents, we met up with some of Marika's friends at Myabi's Japanese Steak house. The food was great and very filling, the entertainment was enjoyable, the company was wonderful and (according to everyone there) it was May's 19th birthday! They sang,beat a drum and gave her a dessert and fan, and then took a great group shot.&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The next day we went to see avatar like she's already said and then a few stores to look for a dress for her sister. Ofcourse our intent was to find a dress for May's sister but we all found ourselves shopping for us. My friend Oran tried on heels and May modelled for us!&lt;div&gt; Then we were invited to dine with my sister and her husband. We played games and then did our own thing...went out for ice cream.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S5s-Rv_J4wI/AAAAAAAAIqM/J3YYVJLDQqY/s400/lovestory3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448016648894800642" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 157px; " /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Sunday we went to church, it was pretty good but I was nervous about leaving May in with all of the old ladies for the last part. She said it was fine but when a girl says it's fine, it can mean some very different things. Then we ate, almost helped chase chickens(long story) and then played card games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S5lPvT8SLZI/AAAAAAAAACA/PjeaOboWZWk/s1600-h/SANY5253.JPG"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On monday we woke up and drove two hours to the beach which seems really long but we were just talking, laughing and holding hands the whole time so it was pleasant. First we toured Fort Macon and visited the shop. Of course history is great but it was a little dry so we headed off to the shore. We walked on the beach and picked up sea shells. It was really nice to just be with eachother and I can't think of a better place than the beach especially when we caught a glimpse of a pair of dolphins. We then rushed over to the aquarium because it closed at 5. It was not as big compared to other aquariums either of us have been to but this one had some really neat sections. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I think May is afraid of water because she would not put her hand in the tank with the sting rays but after some convincing she touched a horseshoe crab. I thought it was great until she splashed water on me! There's nothing like having salty fish water sprayed onto your face but to make it worse, the smell wouldn't go away! Luckily there was a faucet to wash it off.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S5s-R6fmLSI/AAAAAAAAIqU/g3oh0M4dM4Q/s1600-h/lovestory2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S5s-R6fmLSI/AAAAAAAAIqU/g3oh0M4dM4Q/s400/lovestory2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448016651715226914" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 125px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S5s-R6fmLSI/AAAAAAAAIqU/g3oh0M4dM4Q/s1600-h/lovestory2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Being at the beach we wanted to eat seafood for dinner and you'd think there would be a plethora of seafood joints or atleast on on every corner but none seemed to offer what we wanted. Finally we found the perfect place. It was right on the water, and the food was delicious. We ordered Tuna and a chicken pasta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To end the night we walked out into music-filled air. I began singing the song and May started to dance like a crazy woman. If the windows of the restaurant weren't tinted from the outside I'm sure we would have seen 50 people staring at us with their noses pressed up to the glass. &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S5ssGPhmZsI/AAAAAAAAADI/ZDgr6_HZ8Kc/s1600-h/SANY5296.JPG"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, this is just a flash back. Another happy memory of our amazing, spontaneous moments together. I'm sitting here alone, wishing I could have her by my side.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S5s-RT7YZdI/AAAAAAAAIqE/PUMXDE4RkUU/s1600-h/lovestory4.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's not like we didn't see it coming but why does it have to be over already? Why couldn't we have more time? Did I have to let her go? Why couldn't my car break down or atleast I could have driven slower. I wish I could lightly lift her face and look into her beauiful eyes one last time. I wish I could tell her I love her to try to convince her one more time just how much I care for her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S5s-RT7YZdI/AAAAAAAAIqE/PUMXDE4RkUU/s400/lovestory4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448016641362781650" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 157px; " /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, Kyle&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-6913153439635185050?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/6913153439635185050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/our-time-rushing-by.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/6913153439635185050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/6913153439635185050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/our-time-rushing-by.html' title='Our time rushing by'/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06482586080989113125</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S4OieZKKA3I/AAAAAAAAABg/_V59-bJ9NX0/S220/Beach+082.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S5s-SF4r8pI/AAAAAAAAIqc/_gCFWMYifqM/s72-c/lovestory.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-7804586034478126199</id><published>2010-03-10T04:52:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T00:41:08.528+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='other'/><title type='text'>Answers part. 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Z7CUPaaA3Cw&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Z7CUPaaA3Cw&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We started answering the questions today but we didn't get too far yet... I think this is just going to be a sneak peak. The quality is not the best because the sun was behind us and made us dark. We didn't really have time to figure out a better place. But we'll get to other questions later and we're going to try to get more questions on tape but we'll probably end up writing some of the answers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-7804586034478126199?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=cb0d548ab4ae0e46&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/7804586034478126199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/answers-part-1.html#comment-form' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/7804586034478126199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/7804586034478126199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/answers-part-1.html' title='Answers part. 1'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-6026679777150505124</id><published>2010-03-08T17:19:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T17:29:35.400+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='present'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='May'/><title type='text'>The best days of my life</title><content type='html'>The past few days have been the best days of my life. Kyle came to pick me up on Friday and we went to the mall, then to see my first hostmom, and later to eat with some of my friends. We had to be in Smithfield by 9 p.m to see the neighbors I was supposed to stay with. Btw, they're really nice and their house is amazing.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Saturday we spent with Kyle's best friend trying to look for a dress for my sister's confirmation. We also saw Avatar which was really good, maybe a little bit too long but at least it was worth every penny. After that we went to eat at Kyle's because his sister had cooked for us. The rest of the night we played games and talked.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday we went to Kyle's church. It was different but it wasn't bad. I might even get used to it but that's something we'll see later. After that we had a dinner at Kyle's with the missionaries. This time his mom cooked. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have to go, Kyle just came and we're going to the beach. I'll write more later. We'll try to answer the questions at some point but we haven't had time to spend on the computer...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-6026679777150505124?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/6026679777150505124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/best-days-of-my-life.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/6026679777150505124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/6026679777150505124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/best-days-of-my-life.html' title='The best days of my life'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-2042735458209852511</id><published>2010-03-04T08:02:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-03-04T08:11:35.550+02:00</updated><title type='text'>What everyone should know</title><content type='html'>Alright, after work I kept thinking about Marika. I couldn't get her off of my mind so I thought I would do some research. I can't take credit for this even though it fits perfectly. If you're thirsty for more info on our long-distance relationship then maybe this will fill your cup!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, Kyle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/pqblRemhBRg&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/pqblRemhBRg&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-2042735458209852511?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/2042735458209852511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/what-everyone-should-know.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/2042735458209852511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/2042735458209852511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/what-everyone-should-know.html' title='What everyone should know'/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06482586080989113125</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S4OieZKKA3I/AAAAAAAAABg/_V59-bJ9NX0/S220/Beach+082.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-4673279614134449790</id><published>2010-03-04T02:18:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2010-03-04T02:47:57.487+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='present'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='May'/><title type='text'>Surprise!</title><content type='html'>Kyle surprised me today. We were supposed to talk on Skype this morning and I was waiting for him to get online when I heard a knock on the door. First I thought it was my hostdad knocking the door of my room but it was already half open so it didn't really make sense. I just didn't expect anyone being at the door. When no one came into my room, I got up, looked out of the window, and saw him standing there.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was still in my pyjamas and totally not ready for anyone to come but of course I went to the door. I was really surprised but happy to see him anyway. He brought us breakfast (plain yogurt with berries, my favorite) and lunch (lasagne) with him too. How many guys actually do things like that? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our day went by pretty much the same way as Monday except we had lunch here. We were just talking about what we wanted for the future and how we imagined our life to be. The fact that even after Kyle's mission we'll still be in different countries came up. He's gotten some letters from Oxford, though, so let's hope he's ready to move to England because if everything goes well, I'll be there by the time he gets back. I mean I can't believe he didn't even know what Oxford is before he started receiving letters from there. (Americans) I would be dancing around the house if I did. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today we had to watch my hostparents' great grandchild, who was being babysit by my hostdad, a few times when my daddy went to take the dog out. He was just crying and drooling on my shoulder which wasn't very much fun. Kyle was just laughing at me but he's the one who wants six kids, not me. The baby is cute, though, but he's just been sick lately so that's why he's just crying all the time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next time I'll see Kyle is on Friday and we're going to go out to eat and watch a movie (at least that's the plan) with some of my friends and then go to Smithfield to spend the rest of my trip there. I can't wait, it's gonna be so much fun. And plus I already miss him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Love, May&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ps. We're gonna answer those questions when I go to Smithfield so if you still have something you wanna ask us, you have a few more days!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-4673279614134449790?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/4673279614134449790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/surprise.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/4673279614134449790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/4673279614134449790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/surprise.html' title='Surprise!'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-12647934993424595</id><published>2010-03-01T23:00:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2010-03-02T04:07:48.350+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='present'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='May'/><title type='text'>Mediterranean Experience</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4wuvjqvZ0I/AAAAAAAAIok/VgY6HklX-3Y/s1600-h/fayetteville2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 253px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4wuvjqvZ0I/AAAAAAAAIok/VgY6HklX-3Y/s400/fayetteville2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443777444147324738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kyle just left like 30 minutes ago and he's so going to be late for work... It takes at least an hour to get there but he doesn't have that much time. I hope he's not badly late, though. We weren't even supposed to see each other until Friday but that didn't work so well. Now that we're so close to each other, we don't want to be apart. Now we really have to wait until Friday because Kyle works in the evenings and it would be too much to wake up early to come to see me and only sleep for a few hours.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today he was a few minutes late because there was a road work or something on the way here. But he brought me the rose that he gave me at the airport back. I had forgotten it to his house. Along with it he had another rose, pink this time, and some other flowers. That was really sweet of him. I guess he does that because I told him it would be nice to get flowers. Training works, I guess. (j/k babe, I love you)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We didn't do much today. We were just talking and cuddling and just enjoying each other's presence. We didn't have much time so we didn't want to go to do anything because then we would've had to rush. At 1 p.m we realized what time it was and decided to go eat. There are so many option in America and just across the street so we had hard time choosing where we wanted to go. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4wuvyS95OI/AAAAAAAAIos/nU1PC5F9bvk/s1600-h/fayetteville.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4wuvyS95OI/AAAAAAAAIos/nU1PC5F9bvk/s400/fayetteville.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443777448074142946" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 164px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4wuvyS95OI/AAAAAAAAIos/nU1PC5F9bvk/s1600-h/fayetteville.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Kyle had GPS on his car so we decided to look for the place from there. I have never noticed but we have a Mediterranean grill just across the street and it sounded like a good idea. It didn't look really appealing on the outside but we decided to go in anyway. It actually looked great on the inside and the people there were really nice. It took us long time to choose what we wanted to eat because it was a lot different from what we're used to. Finally I settled in Chicken kebab and he got lamb beef mix something. The food was really good and I'm glad we went there. And it wasn't fast food like most foods here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After lunch Kyle took me back to my hostparents and soon he had to leave. I wouldn't have wanted him to leave and obviously he wasn't any more willing to go. Finally he managed to get himself out of the door and to his car. I really hope he made it to work on time.. Thank you babe for the great day! I already miss you. (Although we have something to talk about...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4wuvFHiT8I/AAAAAAAAIoc/w_bhVx4Ya4k/s1600-h/fayetteville3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4wuvFHiT8I/AAAAAAAAIoc/w_bhVx4Ya4k/s400/fayetteville3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443777435946602434" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 150px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Love, May&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-12647934993424595?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/12647934993424595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/mediterranean-experience.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/12647934993424595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/12647934993424595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/03/mediterranean-experience.html' title='Mediterranean Experience'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4wuvjqvZ0I/AAAAAAAAIok/VgY6HklX-3Y/s72-c/fayetteville2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-2144775249349149576</id><published>2010-02-28T03:19:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-28T03:48:10.911+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='present'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='May'/><title type='text'>I Already Miss You</title><content type='html'>I saw him last night. He was waiting for me at the airport with a rose! I can't believe he really brought me a rose. He was wearing a suit (he came straight from the meeting) and looked so great. I was going to walk past him, though. I was going to get my suitcase and I thought he'd be waiting for me after that because usually you meet people after that. But I guess that airport was different. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When he called me, I was so surprised. I so didn't expect him to be there that soon. But it was great. We hugged for a long time and went to get my luggage. He told me later that he wanted to wait to kiss me until we came back to Fayetteville but that last maybe for like a minute. Anyway, we had almost a-one-hour drive to his house and we were both so sleepy. When we get to the house, I wasn't tired anymore because in Finland it was already morning and I just forgot how tired I was when we were kissing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finally we got to bed around 3 a.m. He slept on the couch and I felt so bad for him. I just came there and took his bed. I was the first to wake up. First I was going to let him sleep but then I decided to go to give him a kiss. Well, I never did because he got scared and jumped. I thought for a second he was going to accidentally hit me... Well, I know not to do that again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After he realized it was me, he made me come back to the couch and kissed me good morning. We just laid there for a while and then I went to get changed and he made us breakfast. I've never had French toast before but it was good. We had a little time before we had to leave so we went horseback riding. His horse did not feel like doing anything today so when we were trying to get on, she just kept going out the way. Finally we both got up and we rode for a little while. The weather was nice although the wind was blowing pretty hard from time to time. It wasn't exactly like in the movies because the horse didn't want to co-operate but it was still really nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before we left, we talked with Kyle's sister for a while. She was trying to show what her baby could do but he was tired so he couldn't push hard enough to roll to his back. He was really cute when he tried, though. Too soon we had to leave. I couldn't even stand the idea of not being with him anymore. I have to admit it felt a bit awkward to be with him again at first but by the time we were at his house, I was totally comfortable with him again. It felt like we had never been apart. And I don't want to be. I already miss him although we just saw a few hours ago. But I'm probably not going to see him until Friday and I don't know how I'm gonna make it there. Yeap, don't even remind me of those two years, I'm going to die...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Babe, I just wanted to let you know that I love you so much. I wish we could at least talk but you're at work. I didn't get my phone to work yet but maybe we can talk on skype for a while when you get home. I was supposed to go out with Stewart and Fitore but Stefan is on a date with his girlfriend and has the car so I'm not sure if we can go. But anyway, I love you. I hope you had a great day at work.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, May&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Ps. We didn't take any pictures (except from Ruth's baby this morning) and the only one I took from Kyle, he won't let me put up... I know, we should've taken a lot more but we were both tired and I definitely didn't look too great after the long journey.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-2144775249349149576?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/2144775249349149576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-already-miss-you.html#comment-form' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/2144775249349149576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/2144775249349149576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-already-miss-you.html' title='I Already Miss You'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-816076059273434332</id><published>2010-02-25T20:50:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T20:57:28.722+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='other'/><title type='text'>Ask from us!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4bH6Lgb5ZI/AAAAAAAAIoM/jSQhXDbMClQ/s1600-h/question.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 272px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4bH6Lgb5ZI/AAAAAAAAIoM/jSQhXDbMClQ/s400/question.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442257002058999186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;My train is leaving towards the capital in about 7 hours so I have to get some sleep before that. However, we decided to give you all an opportunity to ask the questions that you've been thinking about. Whether you want to ask Kyle's favorite food or craziest thing he's ever done (I wouldn't wanna know..), my future plans, or about our relationship, now it's your chance! If we get nice questions, we may answer them in a video - and I can make Kyle make accents. He's so good with them.. Anyway, go ahead and ask, I'm going to sleep!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Picture &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://thestartingfive.net/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;from here&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-816076059273434332?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/816076059273434332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/ask-from-us.html#comment-form' title='21 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/816076059273434332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/816076059273434332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/ask-from-us.html' title='Ask from us!'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4bH6Lgb5ZI/AAAAAAAAIoM/jSQhXDbMClQ/s72-c/question.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>21</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-5123202209258498149</id><published>2010-02-25T08:44:00.009+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T08:24:23.149+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='past'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kyle'/><title type='text'>Noway!</title><content type='html'>May, you have such a great memory, you did a great job...Cheater! &lt;br /&gt;I would like to add a couple details as well for those of us who don't have a blog to help us remember what happened. :9 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before we went to the park we went to the store and ran into that older couple from church and the guy said, you were the sexiest young thing he had ever seen! Haha, that makes me laugh everytime I think about it:D After we left the store we didn't have anything with which to eat the food (I didn't think that far ahead) so we went to Wendy's and got some eating utensils :) The park was picture perfect, after we found a spot that wasn't controlled by ants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bowling was a lot of fun, and the dance was even better. Btw you definitely got ready so quickly, not to mention how amazing you looked :) Then about after the dance, after we drove to your house... ... ... so much to say but you so told me you loved me first. Then we went on having the best night EVER, talking and cuddling and I told you I loved you and you almost crying. Then the rest is exactly how you remember it...I didn't want to let you go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next part was not as fun, the hour drive home. We did so much that day, it was late, you can imagine my situation. There are many techniques to staying awake that I've heard of: pinching/slapping yourself periodically, taking deep breathes, singing and dancing, blasting music, and my personal favorite, holding your eyes open with your fingers. I definitely tried them all and none of them seemed to work. I could think only of this beautiful finnish girl with whom I had fallen so in love. I thought of the magical day I had spent with my fairytale princess. The more I drove, the more I thought and the more I thought, the more my dreams started to capture me.  I think I drove home by the grace of God...and those ridges on the side of the road that vibrate your car when you're going out of the lane. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, Kyle&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-5123202209258498149?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/5123202209258498149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/noway.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/5123202209258498149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/5123202209258498149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/noway.html' title='Noway!'/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06482586080989113125</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S4OieZKKA3I/AAAAAAAAABg/_V59-bJ9NX0/S220/Beach+082.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-2666797481572640788</id><published>2010-02-24T20:00:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-24T22:26:20.822+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='past'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='May'/><title type='text'>The Rose Prom</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;May 30th, 2009&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 123px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4VqYFeZntI/AAAAAAAAIoE/0vqMix-mvxY/s400/roseprom3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441872686766202578" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kyle's seminary's graduation was May 30th and he had asked me to be his date. I had just come back from Miami to see my family. We had looked for a dress for the graduation from everywhere with my sister. It was so hard to find a dress that was pretty but also fit the church standards. Finally I had found the dress that I really liked. It didn't cover my shoulders but I got a shawl from my hostmom and the problem was solved.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kyle came to pick me up early to Smithfield because he had a job interview in the morning and I wanted to go there with him. They were hiring a hundred people and there were at least twice as many people there so we had to wait for a long time but it wasn't bad. We actually ended up in two newspapers and Kyle got the job (of course) so it was definitely worth it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After the job interview we went to the park near his school where we had first met. We bought fresh strawberries and grapes, and things like that and had a real nice picnic. Needless to say it was perfectly sunny and warm. There were also other people there, mainly families with children. We were joking about being a bad influence for those children because we couldn't keep our hands to ourselves.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4VqX5Yd20I/AAAAAAAAIn8/pJFqiKVBBW4/s1600-h/roseprom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4VqX5Yd20I/AAAAAAAAIn8/pJFqiKVBBW4/s400/roseprom.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441872683520088898" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 160px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4VqX5Yd20I/AAAAAAAAIn8/pJFqiKVBBW4/s1600-h/roseprom.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We had planned to go bowling with two of Kyle's friends so we couldn't stay at the park for too long. His friends were both really awesome and we had fun. I got a bad start but I ended up winning the second game anyway. Kyle was upset because he couldn't believe a girl had beat him. (Honey, you know you can't always win.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the evening was the main part of the day: the graduation and the Rose Prom. We had to go get ready at Kyle's after borling and I got ready in about five minutes. I think I may have made my record in doing my hair and make-up. There was an accident on the road so we were a few minutes late but I don't think anyone really noticed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4VqXq4IrjI/AAAAAAAAIn0/hTkOdkHTJhg/s1600-h/roseprom2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Kyle looked gorgeous in his suit and his speech was great. I do have to admit that I was more excited about the dance part but the graduation wasn't bad either. The dance was everything I had imagined an American dance to be. It wasn't that booty shaking I had gotten used to at school dances, it was like real dancing. I met plenty of Kyle's friends and they were all really open and welcoming.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4VqXq4IrjI/AAAAAAAAIn0/hTkOdkHTJhg/s400/roseprom2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441872679626386994" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 137px; " /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After the dance Kyle had to take me back home. I couldn't believe the day had passed so quickly and there was going to be another week without seeing him. We were there by midnight but I didn't leave the car until like 2 a.m. We were just talking - and cuddling - and I really didn't want to let him go. That night is the night I can never forget. When we were sitting in the car and just looking into each others eyes, Kyle told me he loved me. I had been thinking about the same thing but I didn't want to be the one to say it first. I still can't believe the effect it had on me. I just started crying and shaking. I tried to say "I love you too" but it was hard to get the words out. I think we were both floating above the ground after that night. I can't remember the time I had been happier. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, May&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-2666797481572640788?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/2666797481572640788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/rose-prom.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/2666797481572640788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/2666797481572640788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/rose-prom.html' title='The Rose Prom'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4VqYFeZntI/AAAAAAAAIoE/0vqMix-mvxY/s72-c/roseprom3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-6456721849234746426</id><published>2010-02-23T08:36:00.032+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-24T22:28:32.141+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='present'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kyle'/><title type='text'>I want you to know</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S4OPXpvV9iI/AAAAAAAAAAU/kUQ1ma3SxvE/s1600-h/wergsgbs.png"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S4OPXpvV9iI/AAAAAAAAAAU/kUQ1ma3SxvE/s320/wergsgbs.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441350411297879586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Think of a day that was difficult. A day that took more than you wanted to give. Sometimes a happening pulls you down while other times you just aren't as happy as you usually are. We all have a depressing day and for me, today was one of these days. I needed to try more than I had desire to do. That's what's great about our love, we don't have to try. We don't have to put on a show to receive that rewarding applause. Sure, we give each other our best which is beautiful but even if we didn't I'm sure we'd get along so well :) We have similar qualities and interest but we also have different strengths, which will probably help us...later ;)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4Qs8sWlaNI/AAAAAAAAInc/h5YsA4zZ45o/s1600-h/regionals.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4Qs8sWlaNI/AAAAAAAAInc/h5YsA4zZ45o/s400/regionals.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441523670980061394" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 105px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S4Qs8sWlaNI/AAAAAAAAInc/h5YsA4zZ45o/s1600-h/regionals.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Babe, I hate to break this to you (since you're willing to "try" I think it is a great time to tell you) One day, maybe tomorrow, maybe years down the road we're gong to argue about something. It seems farfetched I know but it could maybe, possibly, one day happen...perhaps, and as long as we look at it in perspective I'm sure we'll be great. We can talk about anything and I love that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I listened to that song, I'm sure everyone can see what you're saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I want you to know&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S4Og6VcAhFI/AAAAAAAAABU/JwNheamMhik/s1600-h/SANY3144.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S4Og6VcAhFI/AAAAAAAAABU/JwNheamMhik/s320/SANY3144.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441369698841166930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to leave you&lt;br /&gt;But I do want to go.&lt;br /&gt;It is a long time&lt;br /&gt;But we can use it to grow.&lt;br /&gt;I know our love's right,&lt;br /&gt; You know I'm not doubting that.&lt;br /&gt;I'll be smarter&lt;br /&gt; And I promise I wont get fat.&lt;br /&gt;Don't forget the things we've done&lt;br /&gt;Or the times we've had.&lt;br /&gt;Picture the next moments,&lt;br /&gt;There's no way they'll be bad.&lt;br /&gt;I want you to hold on to me, with me, for me.&lt;br /&gt;And what happens after...&lt;br /&gt;We will just have to see.&lt;br /&gt;Just know I love you,&lt;br /&gt;I never want us to part.&lt;br /&gt;I'll always have you with me,&lt;br /&gt;You'll never leave my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, Kyle&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-6456721849234746426?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/6456721849234746426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-want-you-to-know.html#comment-form' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/6456721849234746426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/6456721849234746426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-want-you-to-know.html' title='I want you to know'/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06482586080989113125</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S4OieZKKA3I/AAAAAAAAABg/_V59-bJ9NX0/S220/Beach+082.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S4OPXpvV9iI/AAAAAAAAAAU/kUQ1ma3SxvE/s72-c/wergsgbs.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-4075271174088510420</id><published>2010-02-22T15:00:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T21:52:50.464+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='May'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='other'/><title type='text'>Asher Brook - Try</title><content type='html'>Asher Brook's "Try" is one of the best new love songs I've heard in a long time. This is for you babe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre;font-size:-webkit-xxx-large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  white-space: pre; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:10px;"&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/IeP6DlzwdFk&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/IeP6DlzwdFk&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;Asher Brook - Try&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;If I walk would you run&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If I stop would you come&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If I say you're the one&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Would you believe me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If I ask you to stay&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Would you show me the way&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Tell me what to say&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So you don't leave me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The world is catching up to you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;While you're running away&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;To chase your dream&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It's time for us to make a move&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Cos we are asking one another to change&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And maybe I'm not ready but I'll--&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Try for your love&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I can hide up above&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I will try for your love&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We've been hiding enough&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If I sing you a song&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Would you sing along&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Away till I'm gone&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Oh how we push and pull&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If I give you my heart&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Would you just play the part&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Or tell me it's the start&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Of something beautiful&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Am I catching up to you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;While you're running away&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;To chase your dreams&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It's time for us to face the truth&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Cos we are coming to each other to change&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And maybe I'm not ready but I'll--&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Try for your love&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I can hide up above&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I will try for your love&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We've been hiding enough&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I will try for your love&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I can hide up above&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If I walk would you run&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If I stop would you come&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If I say you're the one&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Would you believe me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-4075271174088510420?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/4075271174088510420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/asher-brook-try.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/4075271174088510420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/4075271174088510420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/asher-brook-try.html' title='Asher Brook - Try'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-8975117566245060389</id><published>2010-02-21T20:00:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-21T20:10:55.367+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='past'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='present'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='May'/><title type='text'>Talking to Him Is My Addiction</title><content type='html'>I think one reason we get along so well with Kyle is that we can talk about everything. And we talk. We've always been in a long-distance relationship. Even when I lived in America we lived in different cities so we didn't have anything else but phone lines. We used to talk every single day on the phone and after our first date there wasn't a day without talking on the phone until I stepped on the plane.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He didn't call me the same night after we first met and I have to admit I thought he wasn't going to call me at all. I'm the kind of person that when someone has promised something, it's a big deal if they don't do it. As you can see, I forgave Kyle when he sent me a text the next day. He told me it had been so late after work that he didn't want to wake me up. After he called me the next night he has pretty much called every night. I wanted to call him many times but he was always to one doing things with his friends so I didn't want to bother him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think that talking about things is the key in a relationship. If you can't talk to the person you're with, how you are supposed to solve things out? We've always talked about everything. He probably knows more about me than some of my friends I've known for years. And every time we talk I learn something new from him and every time it makes me love him more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After I left U.S, we talked on skype as often as we could but it's not very easy to talk when there's a-seven-hour time difference between us. Usually we talk before he goes to work (his work usually starts at 4 p.m) and I to sleep. However, after a while we didn't talk that much anymore nor sent messages and I begun having doubts about our relationship. But we'll get to that later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We recently began talking again and we've talked every night (my night, his day). We've had a lot of things to catch up and I feel I've missed out on so many things while we didn't talk. It was all my fault and it may be that I'm going to be mad at myself about it for the rest of my life. It is always so great to hear his voice and laugh. He has the nicest laugh ever. I'm always so happy when I get to talk to him and anxious if I don't. Sometimes it feels like a drug. I'm addicted and I need my daily dose to go on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Love, May&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-8975117566245060389?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/8975117566245060389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/talking-to-him-is-my-addiction.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/8975117566245060389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/8975117566245060389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/talking-to-him-is-my-addiction.html' title='Talking to Him Is My Addiction'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-8031722667254973520</id><published>2010-02-20T15:00:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T19:21:26.389+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='past'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='May'/><title type='text'>Regional's</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;May 16th, 2009&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S36_KQNxP_I/AAAAAAAAIls/3IXBxp9NmG0/s1600-h/smithfield2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S36_KQNxP_I/AAAAAAAAIls/3IXBxp9NmG0/s1600-h/smithfield2.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 157px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S36_KQNxP_I/AAAAAAAAIls/3IXBxp9NmG0/s400/smithfield2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439995582782455794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My second date with Kyle was when we had Regional's track meet at Smithfield. Both of us did really bad in pole vaulting and I was so upset after my competition. The only thing that made it better was that we were going to spend the rest of the day together and he would just drive me home. After boys' competition it begun to rain so hard that I've never seen anything like that before. Everyone was just screaming and trying to hold the tents that had been protecting us from the sun. After a while there was an announcement to gather to the gym because it had begun lightning. Instead I called Kyle - he was trying to call me too - and we decided to take off and meet at the car.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He told me he was at the gate so I ran there but there was no one there and so I called him again. He had been to a different gate and by the time I reached that one, I was soaking wet, had dropped my cell phone into the puddle, and my already-almost-broken flipflops looked terrible. He didn't recognize me at first but when he saw me, he pointed into the direction where the car was and we were running as fast as we could. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We were so wet when we reached the car that the windows were all fogged up. By the time we reached Kyle's home, the sun was out again. He lived in a nice farm house and he had sheep, a goat, turkey, and chicken. I thought it was really cute. I liked his house a lot, it felt like home. He showed me all the animals and when we went to look at the chickens, we just ended up kissing in a barn. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We went walking to see the pond that they had on their backyard and the hay was tickling my feet so he took me to his back. It was really sweet of him. Kyle also has a cutest dog ever (after ours of course) and she just kept following us. We spent most of the day at his place just hanging out which was nice. It didn't matter what we did, it was always great.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S36_KQNxP_I/AAAAAAAAIls/3IXBxp9NmG0/s1600-h/smithfield2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 222px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S36_KplOcXI/AAAAAAAAIl0/r4PvLr4VTR8/s400/smithfield.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439995589591724402" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We went to eat to this buffet which had Chinese, American, and Japanese food there. The food was really great and I enjoyed it a lot. He paid, of course. I've tried to pay many times but we won't ever let me... But he made me taste sushi and my face was probably worth a million so I guess that made up for the money. I'm definitely not going to taste sushi again, just letting you know babe so don't even try to plan anything like that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had to be home by midnight so we left well before (or not...) so that we'd make it on time. We were late anyway because it was dark and Kyle missed the right turn - twice. Finally we had to call my host parents so that they could give directions. Finally we made it and I don't think we were more than 30 minutes late. It was really hard to let him leave because I just wanted that day to go on forever. But all the good ends eventually, and so did that day. The next day I went to Miami for 10 days and I just wished he was there with me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Love, May&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ps. Kyle has more pictures from the Regional's and he promised to put them up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-8031722667254973520?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/8031722667254973520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/regionals.html#comment-form' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/8031722667254973520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/8031722667254973520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/regionals.html' title='Regional&apos;s'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S36_KQNxP_I/AAAAAAAAIls/3IXBxp9NmG0/s72-c/smithfield2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-5987490264109483990</id><published>2010-02-18T19:43:00.007+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-19T20:52:01.896+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kyle'/><title type='text'>Payback babe!</title><content type='html'>Here are a few of the texts May sent. Some were from when we first met like you'll see that we didn't even know eachothers' names, others are from right before she left. I was so embarrassed when I saw the ones May put up but I guess it's alright to hear the other side of the story. I hope you like them as much as I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S32E8pMS_vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/zr20k1QJySY/s1600-h/5-12-09+008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S32E8pMS_vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/zr20k1QJySY/s400/5-12-09+008.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439650102317874930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I knew if was something like that. Mine is Pekkanen. U seem like a person who's always doing good =)"&lt;br /&gt;-May asked me my last name April 27th&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You are sweeter, kyle =) i really like you."&lt;br /&gt;-One of the first times Marika told me she liked me...like I didn't know ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You can kiss me anytime you want to. And i couldn't keep my hands off from you even if i tried to."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Morning sunshine. How's your day going!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I Know. You really should come with me..."&lt;br /&gt;-She was going to Miami...not Myrtle beach. Thanks sweetheart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yea, it will. And i'll like you no matter how your hair looks."&lt;br /&gt;-I got a hair cut&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"my throat hurts because someone got me sick but other than that i'm good. How are you doing?"&lt;br /&gt;-I still remember getting this text! I was in school and I laughed out loud...and got a few stares but it was great&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good morning sexy. How's your day going?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"it would make the beach better too. We could go walking and swim in the ocean. we would throw football, and just sit here and watch the waves. Maybe one day..."&lt;br /&gt;-as many of you know what it's like to have someone you want to be with somewhere else. I wanted to be with her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I Can't either. It's only few hours. Sleep well my love."&lt;br /&gt;-We had a date planned for the next day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Haha. You are sweet too. You are also the most amazing guy i've ever met in my life. Today i realized that you are the only one that i need and the only one that i want."&lt;br /&gt;-you can imagine how I felt &lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-5987490264109483990?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/5987490264109483990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/payback-babe.html#comment-form' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/5987490264109483990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/5987490264109483990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/payback-babe.html' title='Payback babe!'/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06482586080989113125</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S4OieZKKA3I/AAAAAAAAABg/_V59-bJ9NX0/S220/Beach+082.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S32E8pMS_vI/AAAAAAAAAAM/zr20k1QJySY/s72-c/5-12-09+008.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-5055295610370292133</id><published>2010-02-18T15:00:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T18:45:49.866+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='past'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='May'/><title type='text'>Some Text Messages</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S30ygrE4aXI/AAAAAAAAIlU/RNoHI4dRHPQ/s1600-h/DSC02776.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 207px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S30ygrE4aXI/AAAAAAAAIlU/RNoHI4dRHPQ/s400/DSC02776.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439559461833828722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S30ygrE4aXI/AAAAAAAAIlU/RNoHI4dRHPQ/s1600-h/DSC02776.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I opened my American phone a few days ago, I couldn't resist reading the text messages that were still in there. Most of them were from other people but I had some from Kyle so I thought I just share some of them with you. I didn't have so many texts because we used to talk everyday on the phone about an hour and didn't have a need to text that much. I just hope he hasn't saved too many of my texts to show you...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;May 10th, 2009:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Please don't leave, I don't want you to in back home. You are amazing."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;May 18th, 2009:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"I miss you Marika. You are making it harder than it needs to be."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"You are saying things that make me want you to be here."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Yeah, you say really sweet things and I love it. I'm about to go to a band concert. I hope you have a great time."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;May 31st, 2009:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"We just left. I will try not to miss you too much. I love you."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;June 6th, 2009:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Marika you are so beautiful and you are all mine. I'll see you on Monday baby. I love you."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;June 9th, 2009:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. I realized the second time I saw you that you are the most beautiful, amazing girl I have ever met."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Thanks May, I needed to hear that. I really hope I get to see you again. I don't want to be away from you."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"I don't want to be unsure and now I'm not. Wow you don't cease amazing me. You keep getting better and better. I wish you could always be with me. I love you."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"I really hope so too Marika. Don't forget you're my baby. You really do make me feel like the luckiest guy in the world. I'm so happy you are all, and only mine."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;June 16th, 2009:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"I'm sorry to hear that. Everything will work out. I wish I could be there with you. You're my princess. I love you."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-5055295610370292133?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/5055295610370292133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/some-text-messages.html#comment-form' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/5055295610370292133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/5055295610370292133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/some-text-messages.html' title='Some Text Messages'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S30ygrE4aXI/AAAAAAAAIlU/RNoHI4dRHPQ/s72-c/DSC02776.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-3971176744589019602</id><published>2010-02-17T15:00:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-17T20:10:44.836+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='past'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='May'/><title type='text'>The First Date</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;May 9th, 2009&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 110px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S3q-1vOkx_I/AAAAAAAAIlE/NQisP9YWG8s/s400/firstdate2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438869330423236594" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S3q-1xRZQgI/AAAAAAAAIlM/iXno-POujq0/s1600-h/firstdate.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our first date was two weeks after we had met. I woke up early to get ready but I was still trying to choose clothes when Kyle knocked the door. When I opened it, I saw his smiling face and I returned the smile. He hugged me hard for a long moment. It felt great but also a bit strange because he was still standing on the porch and was about a feet (30cm) lower than me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think both of us were quite nervous and we weren't sure what to do. The weather looked amazing and it was already hotter than it ever gets in Finland. However, we decided to go to see the mall and went to say hi to one of my friends that worked there. Kyle bought us a smoothie and took two straws. I thought it was kind of weird but later he told me he "had to be sure about me first". My friends told us to go play minigolf and so we went.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 145px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S3q-1xRZQgI/AAAAAAAAIlM/iXno-POujq0/s400/firstdate.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438869330971935234" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S3q-1xRZQgI/AAAAAAAAIlM/iXno-POujq0/s1600-h/firstdate.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Minigolf had never been as much fun as it was with Kyle. We were making fun of each other and joking around all the time. In the end he let me win - he'll never confess that though. The minigolf place was really pretty but it wasn't very challenging. It was still fun and the main thing was to get to know each other better anyway. As the time went by my feelings grew stronger and stronger. I never wanted that day to end.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We had planned to go to the movies but it was such a nice day so we decided to go to the park instead. There we took some pictures with timer and talked. After one shot neither one of us moved and we were just lying there. Kyle asked me what I wanted to do next and I stared into his eyes and said: "You know what I want." I was so glad he understood and slowly he slid his hand to my cheek and bent over to kiss me. It was the best first kiss I've ever experienced. It was even better because I had previously found out he was a mormon and I wasn't sure if he was allowed to ever kiss me. I have no idea how much time passed by and we just occasionally heard some guys honking and yelling at us. I was just so happy and the only thing that mattered was us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S3q-1vOkx_I/AAAAAAAAIlE/NQisP9YWG8s/s1600-h/firstdate2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S3q-1Y_ao-I/AAAAAAAAIk8/MT3ED1l_6s0/s1600-h/firstdate3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 145px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S3q-1Y_ao-I/AAAAAAAAIk8/MT3ED1l_6s0/s400/firstdate3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438869324454077410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Unfortunately Kyle had to go to work that night so we went to eat to Subway and then he took me home. He didn't leave instantly but we stayed by the pool for a while just talking and enjoying the sun and the moment. Finally he left an hour later than he was supposed to but luckily he had his work clothes with him so when we talked on the phone that night he told me he had made it on time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Still today I think that was one of the most magical days I've ever lived and I don't think that even if I lived for 100 years, I would forget it. After that day I remained happy the rest of my exchange year and a long time afterwards.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Love, May&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-3971176744589019602?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/3971176744589019602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/first-date.html#comment-form' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/3971176744589019602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/3971176744589019602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/first-date.html' title='The First Date'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S3q-1vOkx_I/AAAAAAAAIlE/NQisP9YWG8s/s72-c/firstdate2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-7609976319571728182</id><published>2010-02-16T15:00:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T15:00:01.580+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='present'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='May'/><title type='text'>I Can't Stay Away from You</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S3mSSak0PiI/AAAAAAAAIkU/SA8YNPZqzDs/s1600-h/usa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 152px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S3mSSak0PiI/AAAAAAAAIkU/SA8YNPZqzDs/s400/usa.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438538870095625762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The day before Valentine's day I called Kyle for the first time in 8 months. A few days before we had talked in Facebook and I just couldn't stop thinking about him. You can imagine how surprised he was. Of course he didn't know who was calling and when he realized who it was, he just kept repeating: "I can't believe you called me". Well, I couldn't believe I had called him either but sometimes love makes us do weird things.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hadn't heard his voice since August so I burst into tears the second I heard his voice. While crying I was also laughing at him because I knew how much I had surprised him. I would've paid a lot of money to see his face... I can almost see it in my head but it's still not the same. He just looks so cute when he's surprised - well, when doesn't he?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;During that phone call I decided I'd book a flight to U.S. I just had to see him before he would go on his mission. When I got off the phone I dialed my host parents number and called them. I had already spent a fortune calling to U.S so what did a few more euros really matter? My host parents agreed to give me a place to stay if I decided to come. I also talked to some of my friends and they convinced me: I had to make this journey.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I talked to Kyle yesterday on skype for hours and I told him I had decided to pay a visit before he left. He should be concentrating on his mission and seeing me wouldn't help. However, he seemed genuinely happy to see me again and promised to pick me up from the airport. I really can't wait to see him again and just be in his embrace. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My flight is booked now and I'm leaving next week on Friday. I really can't believe I'm seeing that heart melting smile in less than two weeks. I'll have almost two whole weeks to spend with him and my friends until I have to stop living in a fairytale and concentrate on real life. I've just always preferred fairytales....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Love, May&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-7609976319571728182?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/7609976319571728182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-cant-stay-away-from-you.html#comment-form' title='23 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/7609976319571728182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/7609976319571728182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-cant-stay-away-from-you.html' title='I Can&apos;t Stay Away from You'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S3mSSak0PiI/AAAAAAAAIkU/SA8YNPZqzDs/s72-c/usa.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>23</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-8558637135466960843</id><published>2010-02-15T20:58:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T19:40:57.646+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='past'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kyle'/><title type='text'>What really happened...</title><content type='html'>I remember this day very well. I was expecting to have a long day of vaulting, checking places, and helping out with the events because my home team was the host. To be totally honest I was not thinking about meeting the girl of my dreams or really anything except competing. It was such a beautiful, sunny day and very warm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now for the good part :) I was warming up/fooling around with my teammates when the first call for the girls warm-up would start. I took a brief look around, not really paying close attention and then continued on with whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of girls went up and made sure their steps were right. Then I heard the prettiest voice I had ever heard, "Will somebody watch my steps?" She didn't seem to be talking to anyone in particular and being a gentleman of course I offered to assist her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I thought this was the chance I had been hoping for but after that I felt a little awkward, but she was instantly on my mind. I had to say something. I couldn't just ignore her and wait for her to ask for something else...what kind of guy would I be? So I have to admit, I may have pretended to not be totally, so uncontrollably wrapped in thought about her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We talked a couple times, mostly basic questions...which came like we had rehearsed them. Everything seemed to be perfect and most importantly, she was perfect! I didn't know what else to think. Then the events finished and I had to work a program I had never used before because my coach thought I could learn it fast, and being team captain I guess he thought he could depend on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't happy about that because I was supposed to be in that room, not watching the amazing girl I had just met. Ofcourse the rest of the story is exactly like May wrote... except for the part about when she was waiting for the results. I thought that I had lost all chance of seeing her again. I could just think about the first hug. :) (I wish I could just enter my thoughts now, it's so much easier to think than to write it down like it is in your mind) I'm sure many of you are the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, Kyle&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-8558637135466960843?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/8558637135466960843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/what-really-happened.html#comment-form' title='21 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/8558637135466960843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/8558637135466960843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/what-really-happened.html' title='What really happened...'/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06482586080989113125</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X-deI-RcQ_M/S4OieZKKA3I/AAAAAAAAABg/_V59-bJ9NX0/S220/Beach+082.jpg'/></author><thr:total>21</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-7515066680722415650</id><published>2010-02-15T15:00:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T22:05:03.509+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='past'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='May'/><title type='text'>The Beginning</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;April 25th, 2009&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S3gFTVDxlAI/AAAAAAAAIjk/MriVoGuc7hA/s400/DSC02640.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438102379678503938" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was at a track meet in Smithfield when it all began. I remember joking about a surfer guy I'd fall in love with during my exchange year. I'd seen too many romantic comedies about high school and America, I have to admit. However I hadn't found any guy that fit the bill and I had already given up hope. Until I saw him. I wasn't sure whether the love on a first sight existed before, but after that day, I knew it was real.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He was about my height with sandy blond hair and blue eyes, and a smile that made the world spin around. He was pole vaulting like me and he offered to watch my steps for me. He introduced himself and asked me about where I was from and how long I had been vaulting. But then it was his turn to jump and we didn't talk for a while, I just watched the boys' competition waiting for mine to start. Mostly just dreaming about the guy I had just met.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got really bad with names during my exchange year because some people just had impossible names to remember. Then it came to the point I had to call his name out loud to ask him to watch my steps again. I was in trouble. He had just introduced himself so I had to remember his name, calling him "guy" or something would've just been lame. And then I did, I dug his name from my memory. I'll call him K here. Why am I telling you this? Because I thought it was significant that I had actually remembered his name.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He had to work at the meet because it was hosted by his school but he came to watch my jumps and talk to me from time to time. But then my competition was over and I couldn't find him from anywhere. It was like the ground had swallowed him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was a really pretty and warm day as it almost always is in North Carolina that time of the year. I was wearing my big sunglasses and walking to go see something when I saw him coming from the other way. We met in the middle and we were both smiling. I just couldn't not to smile when I was around him. We talked for a while but then he had to go again. I still remember what he said: "We will probably ever see each other again but can I have your number so we can at least talk?" Needless to say that I gave him my number and I was walking a feet from the ground after that. He promised to call me that night after work.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The track meet finished and we were already going back to our activity bus when one of our team mates came to tell us we'd still have to wait for the results from 200-meter-run. We waited for a long time and my mates were making fun of me because I was looking around the whole time. By that time everyone knew I had met K. Finally the results arrived - and among them was him. He had been working with the results and came to show them. We talked one last time and he hugged me hard for good bye and then we had to leave to go on our seperate ways.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn't know if I ever heard from him again but I knew I wouldn't ever forget him. I think I was in love with him after the first moment our eyes met...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Love, May&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-7515066680722415650?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/7515066680722415650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/beginning.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/7515066680722415650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/7515066680722415650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/beginning.html' title='The Beginning'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/S3gFTVDxlAI/AAAAAAAAIjk/MriVoGuc7hA/s72-c/DSC02640.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-438723455157037676.post-3574045635500620823</id><published>2010-02-14T15:00:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T22:04:50.425+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='May'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='other'/><title type='text'>The Love Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;It's Valentine's day everyone! There's no better day to start a love story than the day of love. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This is a story about two people that fell in love. But that love had a time limit because the girl was an exchange student and was leaving in less than two months. And to make everything more complicated, the boy was also leaving on a mission just a few months later. Now, after being apart for eight months, she decided to start a blog so that she'd never forget. The story is based on a real life.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The blog will be a mixture of the past, present, and the future and it will be told by the girl. Hopefully the boy will agree to say some words as well to bring in the other perspective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/438723455157037676-3574045635500620823?l=lovestorybymay.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/feeds/3574045635500620823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/love-story.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/3574045635500620823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/438723455157037676/posts/default/3574045635500620823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lovestorybymay.blogspot.com/2010/02/love-story.html' title='The Love Story'/><author><name>Marika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15432180963658687991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fhwuLqJcVHQ/TJBegGBX3cI/AAAAAAAAJos/apR-SFyQ4hM/S220/markon2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry></feed>
