so what is up? My mom says my friend feels too guility to face me rightnow because 1. she avoided me and made me depressed, putting me through so much misery. 2. she lied to me and then went behind my back and talked to other people. So my friend just cant talk to me as a friend rightnow because everytime I tries to contact her, she feels extremely bad about what happened and just cant face me
i mean if she doesnt want to be my friend anymore, she couldve said "yes" when I asked her if our friendship too damaged to be normal again… but then the silence just confuses me

You don’t mention the details of what exactly went on between you both so unsure if she is feeling guilt and can’t face you. I just think back off a little, the ball is in her court so to speak, She knows how you feel and therefore if she wants to rekindle the friendship she will in her own time. Sometimes we just have to let things go and move on. If it’s meant to be it will be!

so what is up? My mom says my friend feels too guility to face me rightnow because 1. she avoided me and made me depressed, putting me through so much misery. 2. she lied to me and then went behind my back and talked to other people. So my friend just cant talk to me as a friend rightnow because everytime I tries to contact her, she feels extremely bad about what happened and just cant face me
i mean if she doesnt want to be my friend anymore, she couldve said "yes" when I asked her if our friendship too damaged to be normal again… but then the silence just confuses me

You don’t mention the details of what exactly went on between you both so unsure if she is feeling guilt and can’t face you. I just think back off a little, the ball is in her court so to speak, She knows how you feel and therefore if she wants to rekindle the friendship she will in her own time. Sometimes we just have to let things go and move on. If it’s meant to be it will be!

I offered to move back up there about 2 months ago because she was always suspecting I was cheating on her and she said the distance was too hard. She said she wanted me to, so I quit my job. I turned in notice to my landlord. I found a home for my dog. I packed up everything I had and she called me the day before I was set to leave to tell me she’d changed her mind and didn’t want me there. We broke up for about 3 weeks and then she called me crying saying she couldn’t stand to be without me and that she wanted to work it out. By that time, I had just got my life back together here and told her I wouldn’t move yet and she agreed we could continue to make it work with the distance. I made plans to come see her this following weekend.

Yesterday (Valentines Day) I arranged my schedule so I could talk to her because she said she wanted me to and that she’d be missing me. I had asked where her new office was so I could send flowers and she told me she didn’t want anything. She just wanted to talk to me all night. She didn’t answer her phone when I tried to call her (3 times) so I decided to go get my brothers (12 and 9) to spend the night here to keep me company and so my dad and step mom could go out. She finally gets a hold of me and when I mentioned coming to visit next weekend, she said "If you can’t get it off work, I understand." I said "I already have it off work." She said "oh.."

I said "If something came up on your end, it’s okay. Just say so." She said "Something came up." I asked what and she said "Well we’re having a Mary Kay party here on Friday."

I said "That’s fine We still have Saturday and Sunday together and it’s a long drive. I would be late getting there Friday anyway." She said "I just don’t want you here this coming weekend. I love you, but I have other plans."

I’m hurt and thinking maybe it’s time to end this for good. Why would she do this? Do you think there’s another guy?

Should I just be done?
If she’s pregnant, then that’s another problem. She’s been claiming she’s a virgin and waiting for marriage since we got together.
When I moved, we talked about it at length. I was offered my dream job here and, at the time, she was going to join me in a month or so. I told her I wouldn’t take the job if she didn’t want me to go but she said she wanted me to and that she would follow in a few weeks, then she told me she’d changed her mind and wanted to wait longer after the move had been made.

Man ol’ Man…you have some damn patience I must say.

You won’t like this hard advice but I must tell you this:

Cut off totally with her. Move back get your job back do whatever asss kissing you have to do. Get your life back in order. Learn a valuable life’s lesson in this. She is 24 and very flighty. She really doesn’t know what the helll she wants in life or who she wants. You can’t risk money, time and effort into such a gal.

Move on. Do it yesterday. Be strong. Don’t back slide with her. She has NO respect for you. No way in helll would I do this to a man.~~> Who has changed his lifestyle for me. Then tell him I have stupid asss Mary Kay Party in place of him.

Listen to my advice and don’t back slide one bit.

Sometimes Susan remembered. Sometimes she woke in the night with a heavy but unclear feeling of dread, fear of death, fear for her siblings. There had been a time when Lucy had often crept to her sister’s bed in tears, crying for their mother, for Aslan, or just from dreams that terrify the young. But as they grew this became less frequent, and Susan, as the elder, could not turn to Lucy for comfort.

There was only Peter to turn to and not lose face. And he spoke to her gently, with kind eyes and sweet promises and sometimes, in the morning, she’d find a blanket on the couch in her dressing room, but he would never admit that he had slept there.

As they grew their roles as kings and queens became more familiar to them than their memories of England. Memory faded in the way that dreams do in the morning; occasional bursts of niggling remembrance, but full recollection just out of reach.

Lucy was the beloved one, the one who always supported her people, the one they could reach out and touch. Edmund was the lawgiver, surprising everyone with how quickly he learned the intricacies of the legal system. He was not afraid to speak out when he felt his it necessary. Susan was the politician, arranging alliances with visiting dignitaries and charming them with her wit and diplomatic skill, her elegant proficiency at being hostess mellowing even the most aggressive ambassador. Peter was High King, the leader of his armies, the one to whom all the others turned when they were unsure.

They held banquets for the smallest occasion, opening their doors to their populace, keen to demonstrate fondness for even the smallest of their subjects. And yet, Peter found, it was hard to pursue conversations when everyone was so eager to tell you how much they appreciated you. The courtiers learned that they did not need to bow each time he passed, but he could not convince them to give up the slight nod of deference. Then he stopped trying, and became used to it.

It wasn’t that any of the children were lonely as they danced towards adulthood. Lucy was still accepted by her people, still went for tea with the Beavers, and they were all surrounded by the crowds of the court. But they, all four, remained closest to each other. It was to Susan that Lucy went after attending the funeral of a centaur of whom she had been particularly fond. It was from Peter that Edmund sought advice when he believed one of the courtiers was a Calormene spy. And it was to Peter that Susan went each time she gently let down another suitor and deflected another marriage proposal.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t have married them, she supposed, as she tried to negotiate an advantageous alliance that didn’t involve tying either herself or Lucy to some distant prince, but that in doing so the group would split. And they were Queens of Narnia in their own right, were they not?

Peter asked her about it one evening when she stood on the balcony overlooking the sea, salty tears drying on her face. Why had she rejected the nobleman’s son, he wanted to know, when she was so obviously fond of him?

“I didn’t love him, he was just a nice man,” she replied softly. “It wasn’t his fault that half my heart belongs already to Narnia.”

Peter rested a knowing hand on her shoulder, giving her silent support. When she turned into his embrace, burying her face against his broadening chest, it was no different than any other time he had comforted her. He stroked her hair, made soothing noises, and she tilted her face up for kiss like she had when they were children. It was instinct that turned the kiss from a chaste press of lips to something more; neither of them had kissed that way before but it seemed natural to tip their heads and open their mouths. After all, they loved each other as they loved Narnia. They were Narnia.

There was no conscious realisation of what they were doing; all was a continuation of that first, true kiss. Peter settled on the embroidered couch, Susan in his lap, and they murmured gentle words to each other between kisses, touching each other’s shoulders and arms and waists. Peter’s hands on Susan’s breasts were soothing, almost unintentional, stroking her the way he calmed his horse. When Susan shifted her weight and felt Peter’s erection pressing up against her, it was impossible not to press back.

Even when their breathing became more laboured, their kisses never grew more urgent, still gentle encouraging licks and presses, their fingers white with clutching one another, the clothes between them hot and damp, their movements clumsy and beautiful.

When Peter came it was a constricted pulse against Susan’s petticoats, and he tipped his head back and gulped the air as Susan squeezed her thighs around him, shuddering with her enlightening release.

Even then, sweaty and entangled, as they shared a deep, exploratory kiss; even then, when they realised something between them had changed irreversibly, they never considered any alternative to accepting it.

It became a badly kept secret that King Peter rarely slept in his own bedchamber, though no comment was passed. And although Edmund frowned when he found out, he couldn’t quite fathom why the thought brought him displeasure. Peter and Susan were radiant and he could think of no reason to deny them their pleasure.

When Queen Susan’s stomach began to swell, and her gowns had to be let out, there was never any doubt that the child was the High King’s. The people of Narnia rejoiced that they would have an heir and the Golden Age was complete.

The baby was born in the spring, just as the flowers began to bloom. They called their daughter Arian, and no child was more loved. Queen Lucy was in attendance throughout the birth and was the first to lift the child into her arms. It was from King Edmund’s knees that the little princess took her first step. Each year her birthday was celebrated with the grandest feast of the year, the creatures of the country coming to attend her and lavish her with their affection. The little princess learned the ways of her land and was as fond of the woods as the palace, often spending the whole day with her animal friends.

It was on such a day as this, shortly before Arian’s eleventh birthday, when she was happily sharing tea with Mr Tumnus, that the four kings and queens stumbled back into Spare Oom.

It took only moments for the combined weight of their memories to send them sinking to the floor. Susan looked up into Peter’s childishly round face and her eyes filled with tears. Edmund bit his lip and avoided looking at them.

When Susan sobbed herself to sleep there was nothing little Lucy, sitting with her arms around her sister, could do. There was no way back through the wardrobe, the professor said. Susan’s daughter was gone.

She tried to talk of Arian to Peter once, in the days after their return. He gripped her hand until his nails made her bleed, but he never spoke a word.

The shared memory of another life was oppressive and the children drifted apart, unable to speak of what had happened, unable to maintain that closeness with those who reminded them of their other lives. But it was still there.

Sometimes Susan forgot and took Peter’s hand, kissed his lips instead of his cheek. Once she bought a little handkerchief embroidered with the monogram AP, and then realised none of her siblings had those initials. One day late in March, when he was fifteen, Peter returned home with a small package, and Lucy asked if they might have a little party, and Susan burst into tears. Their mother, confused, saved the iced buns for another time.

When Susan brought home her beau, a tall American sailor, Peter couldn’t eat his dinner and hardly spoke a word all evening. When Susan lost her virginity for the second time she returned home and sought out her brother, curling silently in his bed, pressed against his warm body.

It was only then that they consciously stepped over the line, just once, to let themselves memorize every touch and every breath, so that, when they had to return to being brother and sister, when they could no longer be King and Queen, they had a way to remember Narnia.
It’s a fanfic a friend of mine made.

Hmmmm…
I don’t remember this being in any of the books.

edit—that fanfic is SICK.
Well written, but too twisted.

Here are the steps we have taken so far:

1.) DIY Invitation Kit from Michael’s: 30-count, with the invitations, response cards, envelopes, and pretty much everything else you need for about $30, so only about $60 for all our invitations.
http://www.michaels.com/art/online/displ…

2.) Skipping Out on the Expensive Caterer: Since we are from a rural area and we are doing the wedding outside with only about 50 guests, we are catering the wedding ourselves. We are going to grill steak, and chicken and maybe shrimp and have baked potatoes, corn-on-the-cob, vegetable kabobs, and salad. We’re doing the traditional wedding cake, plus "cake balls" and brownies (mint brownies, peanut butter cup brownies, walnut brownies, etc.). We are also not serving alcohol. He does not drink, I will still only be 20, and most of our family members will be drunken rednecks if served free alcohol! We will be serving canned sodas and bottled water.
http://www.do-it-yourself-weddings.com/c…

3.) Small Wedding Party: We only have a few close friends, so we are only going to have one on my side and one on his.

4.) Less Formal Attire: I will be wearing a short dress and he will be in black slacks or khakis and a dress shirt and tie. Neither of us love to dress up and I would hate for us to look uncomfortable on our special day!

5.) More Affordable Rings: My ring will be cubic zirconia and sterling silver. I know it will not hold up for long, but the diamond rings I love are way out of our price range, and we can always get on later in life when we’re more financially stable. He will probably have a carbon fiber ring.
http://www.amazon.com/Sterling-Silver-Zi…

6.) DIY Floral: I just want a simple, hand-tied bouquet. We’re doing gerbera daisies for the bouquet and centerpieces with gerbera daisies in mason/ball jars.

Some things I am still pondering:

We were thinking of maybe skipping on the tent and on ceremony chairs? That $400 could be much better spent on some other element, if you ask me. We will only have about 40 guests, so probably 6 round tables, and we were thinking that we could just arrange the tables in such a way that the guests could sit at them during the ceremony themselves. We aren’t going to have dancing, anyway. Any suggestions?

Thanks so much, guys!
Some details I maybe left out:

Lack of Tent/ Case of Weather: Our outdoor venue is pretty much a park in the middle of nowhere, and there is a church only a quarter mile away from it. Another couple I know who married there moved the wedding to the church last minute when they saw rain on the forecast, no problem. We’re hoping that we would be able to do the same.

Wedding cake: i was planning on only getting a small cake for us to cut for ceremonial purposes and then serving other desserts but THEN my step-mom’s mom offered to bake us one! I’ve seen her work and they’re super simple but elegant and pretty (: We’re planning on having just a plain white one and wrapping orange ribbon around the tiers and putting fresh daisies on it, too. Overkill on the daisies? Haha.
Eh, wedding postponed since we both decided to go back to school, but still planning!. -Sigh- Thanks for all the helpful suggestions!

It sounds like you are on the right track for saving, and it sounds like you will have a very charming and heart-warming wedding. I love the gerbera daisies idea and the mason jars.

You could serve desserts instead of having a wedding cake. If you are already cooking yourselves, maybe you could have several family members all make various desserts and put them on platters. You could probably arrange them on a table where it would look really cool. Source: http://www.ehow.com/how_6033557_lower-wedding-costs.html

Your wedding idea reminds me of a wedding I saw on the Style Me Pretty Blog recently. It looked SO pretty. Not that it is your exact style, but it had a lot of DIY in it. Check it out, it may give you some more ideas: http://www.stylemepretty.com/2010/02/17/diy-wedding-by-couture-events/

Here’s the text:

It happened in the late and forlorn period of complete disruption, at the time of the liquidation of our business. The signboard had been removed from over our shop, the shutters were halfway down, and inside the shop my mother was conducting and unauthorized trade in remnants. Adela had gone to America, and it was said that the boat on which she had sailed had sunk and that all the passengers had lost their lives. We were unable to verify this rumour, but all trace of the girl was lost and we never heard of her again. A new age began – empty, sober and joyless, like a sheet of white paper. A new servant girl, Genya, anaemic, pale, and boneless, mooned about the rooms. When one patted her on the back, she wriggled, stretched like a snake, or purred like a cat. She had a dull white complexion, and even the insides of her eyelids were white. She was so absent-minded that she sometimes made a white sauce from old letters and invoices: it was sickly and inedible.
At that time my father was definitely dead. He had been dying a number of times, always with some reservations that forced us to revise our attitude towards the fact of death. This had its advantages. By dividing his death into instalments, Father had familiarized us with his demise. We became gradually indifferent to his returns – each one shorter, each one more pitiful. His features were already dispersed throughout the room in which he had lived, and were sprouting in it, creating at some points strange knots of likenesses that were most expressive. The wallpaper began in certain places to imitate his habitual nervous tic; the flower designs arranged themselves into the doleful element of his smile, symmetrical as the fossilized imprint of a trilobite. For a time, we gave wide berth to his fur coat lined with polecat skins. The fur coat breathed. The panic of small animals sewn together and biting into one another passed through it in helpless currents and lost itself in the folds of the fur. Putting one’s ear against it, one could hear the melodious purring unison of the animals’ sleep. In this well-tanned form, amid the faint smell of polecat, murder, and the nighttime matings, my father might have lasted for many years. But he did not last.
One day, Mother returned from town with a preoccupied face. "Look, Joseph," she said, "what a lucky coincidence. I caught him on the stairs, jumping from step to step" – and she lifted a handkerchief that covered something on a plate. I recognized him at once. The resemblance was striking, although now he was a crab or a large scorpion. Mother and I exchanged looks: in spite of the metamorphosis, the resemblance was incredible. "Is he alive?" I asked. "Of course. I can hardly hold him," Mother said. "Shall I place him on the floor. She put the plate down, and leaning over him we observed him closely. There was a hollow place between his numerous curved legs, which he was moving slightly. His uplifted pincers and feelers seemed to be listening. I tipped the plate, and Father moved cautiously and with a certain hesitation to the floor. Upon touching the flat surface under him, he gave a sudden start with all of his legs, while his arthropod joints made a clacking sound. I barred his way. He hesitated, investigated the obstacle with his feelers, then lifted his pincers and turned aside. We let him run in his chosen direction, where there was no furniture to give him shelter. Running in wavy jerks on his many legs, he reached the wall and, before we could stop him, ran lightly up it, not pausing anywhere. I shuddered with instinctive revulsion as I watched his progress up the wallpaper. Meanwhile, Father reached a small built-in kitchen cupboard, hung for a moment on its edge, testing the terrain with his pincers, and then crawled into it.
He was discovering the apartment afresh from the new point of view of a crab; evidently, he perceived all objects by his sense of smell, for, in spite of careful checking, I could not find on him any organ of sight. He seemed to consider carefully the objects he encountered in his path, stopping and feeling them with his antennae, then embracing them with his pincers, as if to test them and make their acquaintance; after a time, he left them and continued on his run, pulling his abdomen behind him, lifted slightly from the floor. He acted the same way with the pieces of bread and meat that we threw on the floor for him, hoping he would eat them. He gave them a perfunctory examination and ran on, not recognizing that they were edible.
Watching these patient surveys of the room, one could assume that he was obstinately and indefatigably looking for something. From time to time he ran to a corner of the kitchen, crept under a barrel of water that was leaking, and, upon reaching the p

It’s a joke??

Most Hindu marriages are arranged by the parents, although the children must also be happy with their chosen partner. Hindus almost always marry within the same caste, although in modern times there are increasing exceptions.
A wedding is one of the most colorful and important ceremonies in all of Hinduism. Although customs vary greatly in different regions, marriages are always joyous, momentous occasions, rich with decorations and food. In fact, some Hindu weddings last as long as three days!
The ceremony centers around a sacred fire, a manifestation of the god, Agni. Family and friends surround the couple as a priest chants Sanskrit verses. Next, he leads the bride and groom around the flames which burn in a brick firepit. Bells are sounded, and many offerings are made to the fire, including clarified butter, grains, and flowers. Each time the couple completes their circuit, the bride stands on one of the bricks. This act affirms her strength and loyalty.
Finally, the bride and groom take seven steps around the flames. These steps are the most significant action in a Hindu wedding. Now the couple is bonded for life, their union sanctified.

Not really. The text is easy, just a little long. Therefore you should as for a summary, not a simplification. Do that in the homework help forum, the only "lazy-friendly" forum in Y! Answers.

Ikebana, or "the way of flowers", dates back more than 500 years and first blossomed among male artisans and aristocrats.

Aimed at creating harmony between man and nature as well as heightening the appreciation of the rhythms of the universe, arrangements are conducted in silence using only organic elements put together in a minimalist style.

And it’s this creativity and spirituality that has attracted thousands of Japanese men to reclaim the art form that has more recently been associated with women. Japanese society has traditionally put much emphasis on hard work and employees regularly put in long hours in the office, which increases the risk of depression, mental health organisations say.

The nation, which has one of the highest suicide rates in the world, even has a term for death by overwork — karoshi — making stress-relieving activities such as ikebana all the more popular.

Flower compositions arranged according to the traditional principles of ikebana are said to represent the relationship between heaven, mankind and earth.

Minoru Kagata, 61, an instructor at Sogetsu school who took up ikebana almost 20 years ago, said the art "gives life to flowers." It usually takes students more than two years to create beautiful arrangements with few natural elements, he added. For many male students, stepping into the ikebana studio is rewarding enough, regardless of how skillful they are.

"Flower arrangement adds that unreal flavour to my life and lets my mind roam free," said Koji

Otusbo, who has been studying ikebana for more than 15 years."At the same time, such an artistic hobby is like a bridge that connects me to the real world."

http://in.news.yahoo.com/137/20100127/778/tod-flower-art-blooms-among-japan-s-stre.html
Edit: Heard it all before…i’m not saying anything!…but perhaps you’d be able to handle your stress better with flower arranging or any other such serene hobby..

playing blues on my guitar.

oh and for ppl who don’t know, the stuff in parenthesis is stage blocking

[Present Day. LIGHTS UP to a cramped New York Apartment. There is a door on stage left and stage right has a small kitchen with a square table. A tall man in his late 20’s (CHARLIE) sits at table in chair closest to exit, looking quite at home in a suit with his jacket off and tie loosened, reading a newspaper but talking over his shoulder to woman. Stage left has a living room, with a couch against the back wall and a coffee table in front of it. The pathway from the kitchen table to the exit is clear. A woman in her late 20’s (SOPHIA) is standing behind the coffee table, arranging flowers in a vase on it. She is wearing a pretty dress with her hair done in curls, but appears tired and worn out- the dress is faded and torn at the bottom at closer look, and her hair is slipping out of its clip. She has dark circles under her eyes and appears reserved.]
Charlie: So, what have you been up to, Sophie? I called a couple of times the last few weeks; I guess you haven’t been around?
Sophia: I’ve just been busy; I meant to call you back. I was going to tonight, Charlie, really, I was. You’re silly for coming by. You know I’m not much of an entertainer. And these flowers- they’re too much.
Charlie: (putting down the news paper and turning to look at her, bemused by her reluctance) What, lilies aren’t your favorite anymore?
Sophia: (Looking at him for the first time, and stopping movement, mystified) Of course they are. How… how do you know that? (She moves around the coffee table so that she is on level with him, but keeps her distance.)
Charlie: (Smiling, standing and taking a step towards her. Sophia looks uncomfortable at his closeness, even though he is still a few steps away, but stays where she is.) You told me, the day before your 14th birthday. You invited me to your birthday party, but I was intimidated by all your friends so I said I wouldn’t know what to get you. You told me you could use some flowers cause you had to throw out the roses Bobby Wallace got you. (Chuckling.) You said his breath always smelled like Pizza flavored Doritos, and besides, lilies were your favorite anyways.
Sophia: (Not smiling, studying him. Pause.) You never came.
Charlie: (Still smiling a little, remembering.) What?
Sophia: To my birthday party. You never came.
Charlie: (Awkwardly, shrugging it off.) Oh.. yeah. Chickened out, I guess. You had so many friends. I never could fit in with them. (With humor) I wasn’t exactly Mr. Popularity.
Sophia: They weren’t friends. Not really. That was the year I figured it out- they were always there for shopping and gossip, but anything deeper than that scared them off. (Charlie gives her a questioning look.) That was the year my fath-… my da-… he left. After that, I didn’t much feel up to gossiping about who wore what and the new guy in school, and they all kind of got bored of me. It got too hard to cover up all the not-so-happy feelings, and I guess the new me scared them away.
Charlie: (A little hurt.) That’s why you started talking to me more?
Sophia: (Shocked at his conclusion.) No! No, of course not. I started talking to you because… because I realized your friendship meant more to me than all of theirs combined. (Settling onto the edge of the coffee table.) Funny, how losing someone you love makes you appreciate the ones you still have more.
Charlie: (Watching her as she thinks.) You still miss him. Your dad.
Sophia: (Defensive.) What? He left years ago.
Charlie: That doesn’t mean you can’t miss him. (Sophia turns away, busying herself cleaning the table next to the door. Charlie recognizes that the conversation is over. He watches her for a second, and then settles back into his chair, picking up the newspaper again.) What have you been so busy with these past few months, anyways? It’s been too long.
Sophia: (Still bustling about with her back to him.) The usual- mindless hours answering phones at work and being hung up on, and taking care of mom. She hasn’t been so well lately.
Charlie: She’s sick? What’s wrong?
Sophia: No, not physically. She’s just been having a tough time. (She stops cleaning, kneeling in front of table with dust pan in hand, but still doesn’t turn to look at him.) Last week, she called me up in hysterics going on and on about how I was the only reason she stuck around. She said if she didn’t love me so much, she didn’t think she’d feel anything at all. Naturally, I rushed up there to see her, only to find her happily making lemonade for the boy who mowed her lawn. (She shakes her head.) It’s been like that ever since he left. One minute she’s totally fine, the next she’s a

This is good, it’s genuinely well-written and has a lot of potential. If you wanted to make it more professional, then I’d advise taking out a lot of the stage directions – they would generally be added in in a "shooting script". But if you’re just doing it for fun then it doesn’t really matter. Very good. Very enjoyable.