<?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-13071903</id><updated>2011-07-16T05:16:35.549+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shades of Gray</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017254181063836403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/ecarg.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>53</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-5336571418256019035</id><published>2008-05-17T02:44:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-17T02:49:55.994+08:00</updated><title type='text'>first translation</title><content type='html'>This is my first time translating a complete song. I posted it in Gendou and amazingly it got accepted and now the editing is locked. haha. So I must have done it right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Romanization is also by me. hehe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; SONO MAMA NO BOKU DE by Eufonius&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Konna ni gikochinai bokura&lt;br /&gt;Nani mo kizukanai furi o shiteta keredo&lt;br /&gt;Ano hi mita yasashii sono egao&lt;br /&gt;Kokoro no okude hikatteru&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Osanai hi no omoidetachi&lt;br /&gt;Yobiatta namae&lt;br /&gt;Ima mo oboetteru yo&lt;br /&gt;Sunao na mama futari te o tsunagi&lt;br /&gt;Onaji you ni arukitai&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kaze o kitte hashitte yukou&lt;br /&gt;Zutto mae o mitte&lt;br /&gt;Motto hashiru,hashiru, hashiri tsudzukeru&lt;br /&gt;Kimi dake o sagashite&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kaze o kitte hashitte yuku yo&lt;br /&gt;Touku naru mae ni&lt;br /&gt;Subete ushinatte mo&lt;br /&gt;Sono te ni fureru kyori made&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ari no mama no boku o&lt;br /&gt;Hontou no boku o misetai kara&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="content_1"&gt;こんなにぎこちない僕ら&lt;br /&gt;何も気付かないフリをしてたけれど&lt;br /&gt;あの日見た優しいその笑顔&lt;br /&gt;心の奥で光ってる&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;幼い日の想い出達&lt;br /&gt;呼び合った名前&lt;br /&gt;今も覚えてるよ&lt;br /&gt;素直なまま　二人手を繋ぎ&lt;br /&gt;同じように歩きたい&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;風を切って走って行こう&lt;br /&gt;ずっと前を見て&lt;br /&gt;もっと走る、走る、走り続ける&lt;br /&gt;君だけを探して&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;風を切って走って行くよ&lt;br /&gt;遠くなる前に&lt;br /&gt;全て失っても&lt;br /&gt;その手に触れる距離まで&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ありのままの僕を&lt;br /&gt;本当の僕を見せたいから&lt;/span&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="content_2"&gt;Just like this, we are awkward&lt;br /&gt;We pretended to not notice anything, however&lt;br /&gt;That day, I saw that kind smile&lt;br /&gt;In your heart that is shining&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our childish memories of that day&lt;br /&gt;We called each other’s names&lt;br /&gt;I still remember them now!&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, meekly, we both hold hands&lt;br /&gt;I want to walk with you similarly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m going to run, cutting through the wind&lt;br /&gt;As I see straight ahead&lt;br /&gt;I’ll run, run, continue running&lt;br /&gt;Just to search for you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m going to run, cutting through the wind&lt;br /&gt;Far ahead&lt;br /&gt;I’ll give up everything&lt;br /&gt;To feel your hand no matter the distance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I want to show my real self,&lt;br /&gt;How I am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-5336571418256019035?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/5336571418256019035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=5336571418256019035' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/5336571418256019035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/5336571418256019035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2008/05/first-translation.html' title='first translation'/><author><name>Sandysunago</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-4651786078532677331</id><published>2008-05-17T02:19:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-17T02:39:41.101+08:00</updated><title type='text'>phrases with groups</title><content type='html'>There were two friends&lt;br /&gt;A boy and a girl&lt;br /&gt;They wrote each other letters&lt;br /&gt;They wrote each other's lives&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day they disagreed on something&lt;br /&gt;This thing patience and talking  no longer could fix&lt;br /&gt;They stopped talking for days&lt;br /&gt;That turned into weeks&lt;br /&gt;That turned into months&lt;br /&gt;That turned into  years&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They lived in different worlds each was an alien of&lt;br /&gt;They lost so much time that neither one could go back to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Years after, they met again&lt;br /&gt;Different faces&lt;br /&gt;Different families&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They forgot the past&lt;br /&gt;Spoke once more&lt;br /&gt;But that closeness they once had was not the same as before&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Bow*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-4651786078532677331?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/4651786078532677331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=4651786078532677331' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/4651786078532677331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/4651786078532677331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2008/05/phrases-with-groups.html' title='phrases with groups'/><author><name>Sandysunago</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-8159110546521434539</id><published>2008-05-12T19:14:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-12T19:29:34.261+08:00</updated><title type='text'>On Many Things</title><content type='html'>First off... Yesterday, Sunday, Mother's day, my uncle's brother and his family invited us to go with them to Simala, where there's this famous shrine for the Virgin Mary. We went, and it was a long trip. It was lovely, going there. I got to see the coast, nice view, and it was sunny too. But when we got there, it just started raining. It's annoying. There shouldn't be rain during summer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So well, why did I go with them to the shrine? One, because I had nothing to do and I've never been there before and I just wanted to check it out. Besides, they brought a mercedez benz van with them, so why not. It was very spacious inside, no transpo hassle to worry about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when we got there, it rained. It wasn't as beautiful as I expected. And I didn't like the people, because when we were forming a line to get to the statue of the Virgin Mary, some old women were complaining and arguing and stuff. Sigh, get over it, you're supposed to be inside "holy" grounds. And i was partly annoyed with the security guard who tossed me a sarong because i was "wearing shorts" (i wasn't wearing shorts, i was wearing short pedals, there's a difference). I just stared at him in disbelief. But on further thought, I definitely wouldn't mind covering my head with an orange bandana if I get to go inside a Hindu temple. So I just shrugged that off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But still, I do feel really distant to my religion right now. I mean, duh, what's with touching Virgin Mary's statue got to do with getting your wishes granted?? Or dipping your fingers in holy water found inside churches or chapels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'll just shrug that off too because I'm thinking, hell, even the Hindus bathe in the Ganges... (which is quite polluted too). But anyways, I think I'll have to agree with Sidhartha Gautama about learning to stop being dependent on gods, or any deity, and start working by yourself. Because enlightenment is just within yourself, it's waiting to be discovered. Well, I don't know about the part, but I certainly believe that one should learn to be independent, and stop relying on God for just about everything. Get your ass to work. Stop complaining, stop asking and then blaming God if he didn't grant your wish. You can hope all you want, just get your butt off that couch and start working!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when we got home I slept from 4pm to 9pm. And had a really looong dream. About Van de Graaff generators that beat like the heart whenever two people who love each other kiss in front of it. And about lots of people dying. And also about a ghost who I'm supposed to know who kept letting me see her. Etc...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today is my first day as a real trainee at NTW.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-8159110546521434539?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/8159110546521434539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=8159110546521434539' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/8159110546521434539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/8159110546521434539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2008/05/on-many-things.html' title='On Many Things'/><author><name>I just twinkled!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05549002786815037681</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/winkydenoyo/twinkle1111.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-5281214009641485825</id><published>2008-05-12T10:17:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-12T12:15:35.544+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My realization</title><content type='html'>I   had a dream like 2 weeks ago. It was a crazy dream. I was talking to my best friend in my apartment. I was told that she was getting married. At the age of 19!! It really annoyed me so much  that I said, "Anyways, I don't really care about you. But how did your mom take it?"&lt;br /&gt;  She said, " Well, when she found out, then she locked herself  in the bathroom for a day. But she's accepted it now because she's already out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Then I asked, " So, who will be paying for the wedding?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  She said, "Oh, that's all taken care of. I took out a loan at Pagcor (Is this even a loaning agency?=)"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I said in irritation, " Ok, it's your life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I think that even if I said that I didn't really care, I think I did. But it was so annoying to so many levels because one, I didn't really approve and second, I couldn't do anything to prevent it. I've seen My Best Friend's Wedding and the "preventor" always loses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  My professor in Sociology asked us what the best way was to deal with a daughter who marries a total junkie (guy with tattoos or drinks so much for example). He said that it was just to be happy for them because if you comment negatively, you're creating in-groups and out-groups. It means that it's like you're drawing a circle around yourself and marking your territory saying no one can encroach upon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   But for me, I think that accepting is one of the most difficult things to do. If I was in that situation wherein I didn't like the guy, I wouldn't tell off my daughter but tell off the guy and try to change him into a better person. Maybe at least make him more friendly towards me. I just think I like changing people especially if I care about them so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Honestly, if I were to be asked, I wouldn't want to have a daughter because I'd dislike her husband. But if I had a son, I'd dislike the wife....Thinking about it again, maybe guys are more friendly towards women so her hubby might work hard to get my approval first. I just hope that if I had a daughter she wouldn't grow up to be like my aunt who takes her significant other's side blindly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I just think that I'm protective of my women. When my cousin got a boyfriend, I didn't like him at first but after awhile he became friends with me. When my best friend got a boyfriend, I didn't like him at first but even now I don't like him.  What's the difference? It's because  my cousin's boyfriend befriended me while my best friend's bf didn't unless forced. Maybe it's like an outsider entering my territory. Are they here to invade or here to take in my culture?&lt;br /&gt;  I always hated being a third-wheel but there was only one person I could stand being a third-wheel of. It was Girlie. She asked me to accompany her to SM together with her bf.  Even if he barely talked to me, he just kept on smiling and I felt so comfortable. Now, she has a different boyfriend though, but because he jokes around with me so much I like him as well .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  My friends are going to Korea (staying there for a month) on July and drop by Japan for a few days. It's going to be so fun. I wish I could have gone too. Because they have to wait for their flight and stay in the airport for a night, they could hang out together. I wish I could do that with my friends too. I'm glad I still have single friends like Karina and Angela. Oh, I don't think they're still friends, too bad. I'm glad that Steph is already single. Wala na akong kaagaw. Now, where does Sherwin fit in? Well, he can come along the next trip. I just enjoy hanging out with girls. Does it make me a misandrist? haha. I wonder. I just now that I love my friends so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-5281214009641485825?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/5281214009641485825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=5281214009641485825' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/5281214009641485825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/5281214009641485825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-realization.html' title='My realization'/><author><name>Sandysunago</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-1615870048121892206</id><published>2008-05-11T08:16:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T08:20:53.796+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why...</title><content type='html'>So why should I quit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because from a reliable source I found out that it seems like the whole female population (including those who are not women but are still interested in men) in the company is eyeing him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if I pursue this useless case, it will be me against everyone. Cary said, "can you not take a little competition?" but yrvs, that would be like, the whole ISMT building against me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND, although everyone likes him, he doesn't seem interested at dating at all. So it's really useless. And I was right all along, that he's just like Jake. What a shame...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-1615870048121892206?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/1615870048121892206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=1615870048121892206' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/1615870048121892206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/1615870048121892206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2008/05/why.html' title='Why...'/><author><name>I just twinkled!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05549002786815037681</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/winkydenoyo/twinkle1111.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-486972399127076506</id><published>2008-05-10T16:16:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T16:27:46.393+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Urgh</title><content type='html'>I just realized how foolish I have been! I am definitely aborting Project E! :( Alright, back to normal. I shall no longer be experiencing the sudden urges to smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alex here's your date-time validation code:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.the-art-of-web.com/javascript/validate-date/"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.the-art-of-web.com/javascript/validate-date/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.smartwebby.com/DHTML/date_validation.asp"&gt;http://www.smartwebby.com/DHTML/date_validation.asp&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-486972399127076506?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/486972399127076506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=486972399127076506' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/486972399127076506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/486972399127076506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2008/05/urgh.html' title='Urgh'/><author><name>I just twinkled!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05549002786815037681</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/winkydenoyo/twinkle1111.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-4576507388681919678</id><published>2008-05-10T08:59:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T09:08:37.195+08:00</updated><title type='text'>random thoughts part 2</title><content type='html'>I finally moved out. I think I'll miss Mankato...kind of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, we partied and I got to taste the curry rice of my teacher with her karaage. Yum! Now, I am a fan of curry rice. We also watched a movie. Now, I can't remember the name. It was in Italian. It was about two Japanese lovers who lived their lied in Milan. When I watched the movie, it made me think if my love that Sherwin and I had for each other was really deep that we speak with our minds. But I guess, our love is different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never told my friends that I was going to Winona. They'll be expecting me next year but I won't be around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad I got my stuff togehter. That was the first time that I really cleaned a lot. It was really spring cleaning. I mopped, swept,vacuumed, organized, packed, wiped, washed. I am tired now. oh well&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I can learn Japanese.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-4576507388681919678?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/4576507388681919678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=4576507388681919678' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/4576507388681919678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/4576507388681919678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2008/05/random-thoughts-part-2.html' title='random thoughts part 2'/><author><name>Sandysunago</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-8301463049286058980</id><published>2008-05-09T15:49:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T16:00:11.808+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_EPVfELFvmIE/SCQEavNUTQI/AAAAAAAAAAw/L9WsW3LSuBQ/s1600-h/student.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_EPVfELFvmIE/SCQEavNUTQI/AAAAAAAAAAw/L9WsW3LSuBQ/s320/student.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198284727287827714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_EPVfELFvmIE/SCQEG_NUTPI/AAAAAAAAAAo/GjwX97vQpbM/s1600-h/2434354578_2be5f84c5f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_EPVfELFvmIE/SCQEG_NUTPI/AAAAAAAAAAo/GjwX97vQpbM/s320/2434354578_2be5f84c5f.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198284387985411314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_EPVfELFvmIE/SCQDlfNUTOI/AAAAAAAAAAg/UglZj7Y_IMQ/s1600-h/2218814838_31909b3722_b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_EPVfELFvmIE/SCQDlfNUTOI/AAAAAAAAAAg/UglZj7Y_IMQ/s320/2218814838_31909b3722_b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198283812459793634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_EPVfELFvmIE/SCQDYPNUTNI/AAAAAAAAAAY/B7bpDqE-Q5E/s1600-h/549085340_4d163c32b7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_EPVfELFvmIE/SCQDYPNUTNI/AAAAAAAAAAY/B7bpDqE-Q5E/s320/549085340_4d163c32b7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198283584826526930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_EPVfELFvmIE/SCQDQvNUTMI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/bQiMUD5b-8I/s1600-h/466713478_eb670b9ecd.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_EPVfELFvmIE/SCQDQvNUTMI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/bQiMUD5b-8I/s320/466713478_eb670b9ecd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198283455977508034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pics&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-8301463049286058980?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/8301463049286058980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=8301463049286058980' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/8301463049286058980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/8301463049286058980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2008/05/pictures.html' title='Pictures'/><author><name>I just twinkled!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05549002786815037681</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/winkydenoyo/twinkle1111.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_EPVfELFvmIE/SCQEavNUTQI/AAAAAAAAAAw/L9WsW3LSuBQ/s72-c/student.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-3977593846519007271</id><published>2008-05-08T18:27:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T18:35:23.701+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Insignificance</title><content type='html'>I am writing today because I have no one to talk to... There's no one to have a meaningful conversation with, and that part of my life sucks right now. Thing is, I can't talk to my boyfriend because he has banned this topic already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here goes... I hate how in some days, nothing significant ever happens. And I hate how I don't follow my own advice about flirting, or catching a guy's attention! Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm starting to feel that he isn't really interested at all. He's just like Jake. I could totally accept it if he is going to go after me for sex, at least he is after me. But he's not after me in any way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss over-analyzing things with someone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm down. I'm not happy anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-3977593846519007271?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/3977593846519007271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=3977593846519007271' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/3977593846519007271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/3977593846519007271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2008/05/insignificance.html' title='Insignificance'/><author><name>I just twinkled!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05549002786815037681</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/winkydenoyo/twinkle1111.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-5502112561399710872</id><published>2008-05-08T01:20:00.011+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T02:14:51.261+08:00</updated><title type='text'>random thoughts</title><content type='html'>I always wanted to be a good writer. Every time I write my thoughts down something just doesn't feel right. I become uncomfortable.Sometimes, I stop writing altogether. I used to keep a diary but then I stopped. I didn't like how and what I wrote. But writing helped. It relieved me of my stress and in a way, it made me practice writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized that I'm drawn to drama. Maybe I'm addicted to sadness. I think I like crying because even if a normal person wouldn't normally cry, I would. I remember that whenever I see someone cry, I'd cry as well, especially if I understood their situation. Did I want attention? Was it empathy or was it because I was a drama queen? That I don't really know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was second year high school, I was in the piano room with a classmate talking about my plans in life. I had it all figured out.&lt;br /&gt;1. I had to have a best friend for life.&lt;br /&gt;2. I had to have a  husband.&lt;br /&gt;3. I had to finish college.&lt;br /&gt;4. I had to have a great job to have lots of money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But people change.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-5502112561399710872?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/5502112561399710872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=5502112561399710872' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/5502112561399710872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/5502112561399710872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2008/05/what-do-i-want.html' title='random thoughts'/><author><name>Sandysunago</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-7669564146443086672</id><published>2008-05-07T20:27:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-07T20:31:59.623+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking note of useless events</title><content type='html'>But are quite important to me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;May 6, 2008&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    He sat beside me during lunch time.&lt;br /&gt;    He tried to talk during the afternoon break. But we failed to pay attention.&lt;br /&gt;    I rolled on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;May 7, 2008&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;I thought this day would end without any significant event happening.&lt;br /&gt;    But he talked to me. All smiles. And even fixed my monitor.&lt;br /&gt;    That was the first time he ever talked to me.&lt;br /&gt;    I rolled on the floor.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-7669564146443086672?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/7669564146443086672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=7669564146443086672' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/7669564146443086672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/7669564146443086672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2008/05/taking-note-of-useless-events.html' title='Taking note of useless events'/><author><name>I just twinkled!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05549002786815037681</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/winkydenoyo/twinkle1111.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-2525999231239486620</id><published>2008-03-31T11:45:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T11:56:45.857+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;"Friends are people who leave you when you have problems because they know you're smart enough to solve it on your own and that you are just being lazy or blinded by the presumption that a particular situation is difficult."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Grace Marie, when asked to define what are friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I say that a lot, I secretly wish that I have a friend who will not leave me...but it's not a secret anymore because I just posted it. Hahaha! (crazy laughter)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-2525999231239486620?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/2525999231239486620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=2525999231239486620' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/2525999231239486620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/2525999231239486620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2008/03/friends.html' title='Friends'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017254181063836403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/ecarg.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-4578996126715373709</id><published>2008-03-29T09:22:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-29T09:36:19.362+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My fault</title><content type='html'>We had a test yesterday and I believe that I failed the test. It definitely is my fault.I completely don't understand moment of inertia and I screwed up the elastic collision calculations. Now, we'll be having oscillations. Can't it get any worse?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I even didn't study for Korean yesterday. To top that, I missed two hours of Japanese yesterday. All my  efforts to catch up were completely useless. But I was a bit happy because I got the four volumes of Vampire Knight that I ordered. It was really unexpected.  I ordered 3 and 4 the day before but it arrived the next day with 1 and 2. I really love this manga along with Fairy Tail. It's really a great escape from reality. The only negative effect there is to it is that it runs for so long that I get tempted to finish it and then procrastinate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, going back to failing. I think I'll have to study more and minimize anime and manga. I'm almost getting to the point of becoming a full-fledged otaku. If otakus would rather spend their money on buying doujins, manga, ero-games, etc. than  eat, I would rather read and enjoy myself in manga and anime than study . I know it definitely is bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I will try my best. Gambarimasu! Aja!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S I really wonder if  I really could do it. ('_')&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-4578996126715373709?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/4578996126715373709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=4578996126715373709' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/4578996126715373709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/4578996126715373709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-fault.html' title='My fault'/><author><name>Sandysunago</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-3475053966934418261</id><published>2008-03-26T12:39:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T12:49:30.699+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My obssession</title><content type='html'>&lt;h2 class="postTitle" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;My old/new obssession&lt;/h2&gt; So, I have a test this Thursday. But I can't help but procrastinate. I have about 10 anime episodes just waiting to be watched. Every time I check this site with torrents it always gets updated and adds to my list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sherwin is starting to hate anime because he considers this as competition (which is true). Most of the time I excuse myself just to watch anime. He claims that I don't give him enough time. But anime i s so hard to give up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess one of the reasons why I like Japan is because of anime. Right now, I've spent approximately a hundred bucks on books on how to speak Japanese and on manga (my new obssession). If my mom finds out about my extravagant shopping, I think I'd be banned from the internet or worse I can never watch anime. shikushiku (in english - huhuhuhu).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, the animes that I'm watching are about to end. Clannad, Kimikiss Pure Rouge, H20 have ended. True Tears, Shigofumi, Spice and Wolf and Shakugan no Shana 2 will soon end. But it's not so bad because it'll be replaced by good ones like Special A, Itazura na kiss, Vampire Knight(this one I can't miss).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so I guess I'll talk about True Tears a bit coz this series fascinates me. It is a love story and  a harem-drama anime. It's popular in Japan . The art , soundtrack and storyline are all A+&lt;br /&gt;. Anyways , the main argument is about what bonds are stronger:bonds with those you've known all your life or bonds with those people who you've just met but change you. And also one of the  main characters is searching for the right moment when she can shed for someone her true tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm exhausted. Tsukareta&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-3475053966934418261?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/3475053966934418261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=3475053966934418261' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/3475053966934418261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/3475053966934418261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-obssession.html' title='My obssession'/><author><name>Sandysunago</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-6363600378922960401</id><published>2008-03-08T20:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T16:18:38.309+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Okay...So, I Don't Love You Anymore. Deal with It.</title><content type='html'>It's not you, It's me. I do not love you anymore. Why is that so hard to understand? I admit, I DID love you...Like, really loved you. I would even die for you. However, circumstances change and I guess you and I are not the same persons we were before. You have your own life, I have mine. I have my priorities, You have yours. I am sorry if things didn't work out the way they were supposed to. I am sorry I ended everything before the finals are over. I really didn't intend to end it before finals but you made me. Then again, I am glad that I did because you're reaction made me realize how selfish you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I dnu what I did to deserve such punishment. If you cared even just a little bit for me, you won't break up with me before final exams. You could've waited. It just means you really hate me and this is the best revenge you've pulled out."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See? All you care about is if YOU could study for the finals. Well, the hell I care if you can or can't. I don't love you anymore. Deal with it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-6363600378922960401?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/6363600378922960401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=6363600378922960401' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/6363600378922960401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/6363600378922960401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2008/03/okayso-i-dont-love-you-anymore-deal.html' title='Okay...So, I Don&apos;t Love You Anymore. Deal with It.'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017254181063836403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/ecarg.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-7148497002471042977</id><published>2008-03-03T22:48:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-03T23:05:28.723+08:00</updated><title type='text'>F*ck*ng *ssH*le</title><content type='html'>Me: U'll probably get over me like in 6 months if ever we break up huh.&lt;br /&gt;Him: No...&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh yes u will...&lt;br /&gt;Him: No... How sure are u?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Coz ur not telling me anything, like when u'll get over me. So I guess I'll just assume u will in 6 months.&lt;br /&gt;***silence***&lt;br /&gt;Me: UR NOT TELLING ME ANYTHING. u got no reactions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I got mad...coz all i wanted him to tell me is that he'll never get over me, but he's so stupid he didn't think of that at all)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 30 minutes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yeah right, u really will get over me won't you???&lt;br /&gt;Him: No I won't. I mean, close to never...&lt;br /&gt;Me: WHat??? You mean, it's not never?! There's a chance you will get over me and love someone else?&lt;br /&gt;Him: Yeah, of course. But I'm 99% sure that I won't get over you. But still there are other possibilities. And we'll never know what happens.&lt;br /&gt;Me: WHAT?!?! So ur telling me that ur not sure that ur going to love me forever?!&lt;br /&gt;Him: Yeah because ur not sure.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Wtf do you mean I'm not sure!?!?&lt;br /&gt;Him: Judging by the way to act. Ur not sure about me either.&lt;br /&gt;Me: You're the one who's not sure!&lt;br /&gt;Him: I'm sure.&lt;br /&gt;Me: But you said ur 99% sure... that's not sure. In order to be sure you need 100%.&lt;br /&gt;Him: I'm not sure because ur not sure.&lt;br /&gt;Me: So you're really not sure at all.&lt;br /&gt;Him: I AM sure. you're the one who isn't. You're always talking about how cute other guys are etc...&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh yeah right. Did you ever hear me say anything like I'm going to marry someone else aside from u. No asshole. I never said that. Like u don't say other girls are pretty! U've said that right in my face so many times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I'm quite sure about myself. In fact, all my future plans in life include you. How about u? You don't even have any plans at all. I have to plan for u. So who's the one who's not sure here? Do you even know why I'm trying to achieve? Why I study hard for exams? It's for u idiot. Because I know u'll never achieve anything, that's why I'm trying my best to achieve for us both. If I was unsure about you, I wouldn't try so hard. All I'd do is stay pretty and attract some wealthy guy who'll take care of me for the rest of my life. But then I'm sure about you, that's why I'm not going to do that. Instead I'm working my ass off so I can provide for our future family you'll probably have a hard time to feed by yourself. Seriously, telling me that you're not sure about me is the stupidest I've ever heard from u. And it's probably the most sincere. and truthful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see I'm sure about you. I'm sure about this relationship. What's the point of having a relationship when ur not sure about it. I'm not here to fling. I'm here for long term keeping. I'm here for forever. But I see ur not sure. So there you go. I have no time for this shit. It's pointless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-7148497002471042977?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/7148497002471042977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=7148497002471042977' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/7148497002471042977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/7148497002471042977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2008/03/fckng-sshle.html' title='F*ck*ng *ssH*le'/><author><name>I just twinkled!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05549002786815037681</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/winkydenoyo/twinkle1111.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-2467170133097583814</id><published>2007-09-07T05:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-07T06:11:55.829+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The first day of school was okay. I wasn't scared like I was before, on my first day of college. It was different now. I had a purpose - to go to school. That was all I thought about.&lt;br /&gt;     It's true. You rest, you rust. I'm not as good as I was before. It's like years of hard work went down the drain in just a few months time. I have difficulty in almost all my subjects. I have so little hours of class but so little time to get things done. I thought 16 credits was just a small load but it's really heavy. There is so much reading to do. That it makes it a lot harder to keep up with the lectures in class.&lt;br /&gt;      But my biggest disappointment is that I'm not as good as I was in Math. I find Physics very hard to understand. There's always something I'm not getting in every problem I solve. I always hope for a bulb in my head to light up. I know this shortcoming should not deter me. In fact, it should be a path to improve myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now. I've lost interest in writing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-2467170133097583814?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/2467170133097583814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=2467170133097583814' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/2467170133097583814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/2467170133097583814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2007/09/first-day-of-school-was-okay.html' title=''/><author><name>Sandysunago</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-112745975765175783</id><published>2005-09-23T15:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-23T15:15:57.656+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hahaha...</title><content type='html'>Looking and reading at the previous posts of this blog is making me laugh... It's been a long time since someone updated this so here I am...updating this. How's everyone?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-112745975765175783?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/112745975765175783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=112745975765175783' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/112745975765175783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/112745975765175783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/09/hahaha.html' title='Hahaha...'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017254181063836403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/ecarg.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111847914062066889</id><published>2005-06-11T16:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-11T16:40:37.116+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Science and the Ocean of Truth</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I admire Stephen Hawking. He's not some actor or some singer but a scientist(a physicist and a cosmologist, to be specific). While amyotrophic lateral sclerosis has made him a prisoner in his own body, the disease has left his intellect free to roam. And roam it does... from the infinitesimal to the infinite, from the subatomic realm to the far reaches of the universe. His struggle with the disease is a metaphor for the scientific process--man, naturally inquisitive and bound by maddening restrictions, always finds ways to explore the world around him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just like other scientists, Stephen is an atheist. I don't find that appalling(since I myself, am an atheist) but what's appalling is the fact that he and some other scientists trashed philosophy. Science and Philosophy are different studies, both esoteric yet tantalizing. Scientists search for facts--positive knowledge about the physical universe. Philosophers, on the other hand, search for the truth--principles underlying all knowledge, being and reality. To declare Science as the universal "TRUTH" would be megalomania and forcing people believe in such would be proselytism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I saying all these? Because I'm tired of people who try to tell me that Science is the answer to everything. I'm tired of defending my principles to people who claim they don't "proselytize" when the very act of trashing my principles and claiming that theirs is right and that I should believe in them too is itself, proselytizing. Same goes for religious fanatics but religious fanatics aren't that scary. After all, they are expected to make "converts" but scientific megalomania is scary. I love Science and at the same time, Philosophy. I don't want to part with either for the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all these, you might think I don't admire Stephen anymore and have developed an abhorrence for scientists. I still admire Stephen and I still respect scientists. Stephen's courage and humor despite his illness is itself, admirable. His intelligence--his claim to fame, is another thing that's worthy of praise. After all, he wasn't distinguished as a student...definitely an inspiration to someone like me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111847914062066889?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111847914062066889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111847914062066889' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111847914062066889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111847914062066889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/06/science-and-ocean-of-truth.html' title='Science and the Ocean of Truth'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017254181063836403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/ecarg.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111845883011316878</id><published>2005-06-11T10:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-11T11:15:55.813+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sloth</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I hate our President for being so lazy she loves making changes with holidays. She takes these opportunities to make a good excuse for being a procrastinator, and therefore granting her only 4 days of work for the week. Does she not care that there are millions of excited students who are itching on their computer seats for the school year to commence so they can also start jotting down or doodling on their brand-new notebooks using their expensive Staedtler pencils and G-Tech pens? Does she not care about the more enthusiastic pupils who have studied in advance the whole summer just to be ready to show the classmates who's who in which subject? And about those who are feeling ecstatic they are going to see their crushes back again or be with their boyfriends because they happen to study in the same school? Or about those who are just simply feeling anxious about how the academic year might be, and for them the first day of school tells whether it's what they expect it to be, or something better or worse? And those who want to meet new people, exchange smiles and glances, and wear the new clothes, flash to the public's eye the new bags and flaunt the new shoes, which when they shopped for these they had to endure the brutal amount of people pushing them from all directions during the end-of-summer/back-to-school sale? The answer is no, she really doesn't. She only cares about her egoistic self and of course, about the amount of dilly-dallying she can do for the week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Well, yeah, ok, some of those I listed above may sound really familiar (no, I don't have these staedtler pencils and G-Tech pens, I prefer the cheaper ones..but I did go to that sale) ... But don't mind those. Let's talk about other depressing matters.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I don't have any load anymore, because I spent it on sending text messages to Serene, Renee, and my uncle, Rene. I tried to send a picture (of myself, of course!) to my phone as well, but then I have to connect it to the internet. And I failed to do so--reason? I failed to know, too. While I was online, I entertained myself with reading interesting posts in a blog (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.enchantedquill.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;www.enchantedquill.blogspot.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;) and chatted with the author--and when we were at the peak of our DiabloII-LOD conversation I got disconnected. Of course, there was only around 3 hours left on my internet account, and time passes quickly while one is enjoying. I stole some internet from my brother's account (which is what I am also doing right now... it's ok, he deleted my folder and that's a thousand times more painful!) and went back to chatting but sadly everyone went away. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Very early this morning I went online to check the news regarding the no-class-Monday. I found out that in the month of May the palace declared June 13 to be a regular working day. Since the President is the commander, her word is to be followed making our first-day-of-classes to be our first-day-of-no-classes for this school year. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Or maybe this is a wrong speculation after all, that Glo is lazy. I am thinking that maybe on those days that she had declared to be a holiday-extension, she was probably working on something..... else! Not her normal Presidential work load, but her favorite extra-curricular activity--being the national Jueteng lord. Now on Monday might be her secret meeting and general rehearsal with her political supporters. Of course, they have to make stories up and practice their alibi to cover up the worst ever blunder in her career. They have to make sure their details aren't too blurry or too elaborated to be a lie. So now, now, she's not a procrastinator after all. She's working really hard. I don't want her to abdicate her throne because next in line is Noli de Castro--I'd rather have Erap back. Enough about politics...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I wonder now why it's BA Political science... Politics was never a science and never will be. It's a dirty art.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111845883011316878?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111845883011316878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111845883011316878' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111845883011316878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111845883011316878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/06/sloth.html' title='Sloth'/><author><name>I just twinkled!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05549002786815037681</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/winkydenoyo/twinkle1111.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111841263324130552</id><published>2005-06-10T22:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-10T22:10:33.243+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Of Unfinished Tasks and Spoiling Oneself</title><content type='html'>Today, I am supposed to accomplish these tasks:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.Finish covering all my notebooks.&lt;br /&gt;2.Finish covering all of Steph's notebooks.&lt;br /&gt;3.Finish redecorating my room.&lt;br /&gt;4.Finish reading "Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, I was only able to accomplish task one, since I woke up late and my mom wanted me to accompany her to the mall to meet my dad. Fortunately though, task two is out of the list already since Steph came and offered to cover her notebooks herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the mall, I bought the following:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.two bras, 1,200 php each.&lt;br /&gt;2.Make-up set, 1,500 php.&lt;br /&gt;3.New sandals 1,350 php.&lt;br /&gt;4.Clearasil facial wash, 135 php.&lt;br /&gt;5.Nivea Lip Care lip balm, 72 php.&lt;br /&gt;6.Helen Curtis Salon Selectives finishing spray, 259 php.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Normally, I won't spend at all but since my dad was there, I didn't waste the opportunity. It's not everyday that your dad allows you to spoil yourself *grin*. Tomorrow, I'll buy shoes and some clothes. My dad promised. Haha. I bought the sandals since the strap of the one I was wearing at that moment broke. Steph gave me those sandals *tear*.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...that's it. My day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111841263324130552?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111841263324130552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111841263324130552' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111841263324130552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111841263324130552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/06/of-unfinished-tasks-and-spoiling.html' title='Of Unfinished Tasks and Spoiling Oneself'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017254181063836403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/ecarg.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111837713294030112</id><published>2005-06-10T12:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-10T12:18:52.943+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Salinger and my brother...</title><content type='html'>I just finished reading J.D. Salinger's book. I like the story. It's about a young lad who's sick of everything phony he finds in the adult world and learns from it, too. &lt;br /&gt;The ending is lacking, it didn't talk about what happenned next. the author left me thinking about the next event.  probably, Holden got back to his life and became a catcher in the rye. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, while I was reading the book. J.R. (my brother) passed by in the room looking for some comb. he noticed me reading the book all the time. maybe, that's why he asked me what I'm reading and what's it about. I answered "the catcher in the rye, it's about a guy who seeks something true in his life......" and then suddenly he butted in and said "cool nodding his head" I laughed at him and thought to myself that probably he wasn't interested in it that's why he didn't have anything to say but "cool" what an idiot. I even thought he knows the book since Grace told me yesterday the J.D.'s book is read by college students during English. I was surprised he didn't read it. as a matter of fact, he doesn't read. I rarely see him read. I usually just see him read something connected to his his course (since they'll have a test or a report) or the sports part in the newspaper. he's such an idiot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll go back to the book. I think I am like Holden who almost hates everything. I don't know. I'm like him when it comes to hating histrionics or fakes, in general. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll go to Velez later to get the sketch of my fugly uniform.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111837713294030112?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111837713294030112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111837713294030112' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111837713294030112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111837713294030112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/06/salinger-and-my-brother.html' title='Salinger and my brother...'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13256267727685978318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/stit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111836773660747516</id><published>2005-06-10T09:39:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-10T09:46:24.320+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tempation of Eve</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;This is one of my few attempts in making an art work. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.geocities.com/twinkledenoyo/appleme.jpg" /&gt;. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111836773660747516?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111836773660747516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111836773660747516' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111836773660747516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111836773660747516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/06/tempation-of-eve_10.html' title='Tempation of Eve'/><author><name>I just twinkled!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05549002786815037681</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/winkydenoyo/twinkle1111.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111836594152370079</id><published>2005-06-10T08:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-10T09:12:21.526+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The List</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Who to avoid.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Smokers (My father smoked one pack of cigarettes once. He was in college.)&lt;br /&gt;2. Frat Members (My father is a member of Alpha Sigma Phi)&lt;br /&gt;3. Drug addicts. (They're weird.)&lt;br /&gt;3. Overly weird (People who think they're weird, but they're just trying to belong to the classification of weird so they can have somewhere to belong. It' s a mundane way of thinking, it makes them not weird.)&lt;br /&gt;4. The popular group. (These bunch do nothing but socialize).&lt;br /&gt;5. The flirts. (These are the ones who are almost always seen with boys surrounding them.)&lt;br /&gt;6. The boisterous youth. (They're harmless, but they attract unwanted attention.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111836594152370079?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111836594152370079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111836594152370079' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111836594152370079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111836594152370079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/06/list.html' title='The List'/><author><name>I just twinkled!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05549002786815037681</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/winkydenoyo/twinkle1111.JPG'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111832157993221025</id><published>2005-06-09T20:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-09T20:56:05.640+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Of Movies, Smoking and Parental Responsiblity</title><content type='html'>I was supposed to finish redecorating my room today but Steph invited me to watch "Mr. and Mrs. Smith" with her. At first, I wanted to refuse but when she mentioned the part where everything's on her(including the food), I agreed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first 45 minutes where okay, but after that, it got boring. I wanted to go home already but Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt made me stay. Angelina's hot, she provides enough eye candy to actually make you finish the whole thing(she always does...I finished "Life or Something Like It" even if it was BORING because she was there). Brad's okay, but I still think that he looked cute as Louis in "Interview with a Vampire." I do not want to say anything about the plot since there might be those who haven't seen the movie yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;embed src="http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/smith.swf" quality=high bgcolor=#FFFFFF  width=261 height=400 type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/shockwave/download/index.cgi?P1_Prod_Version=ShockwaveFlash"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;              &lt;/embed&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate people who smoke. Don't they know that they are committing genocide and at the same time suicide? A law should be passed to ban smokers. I know it's not possible since a lot of people will lose jobs and the economy will fall(and a lot of people will protest...-_-;) but think about it. Wouldn't a smoke-free world be nice? Who started the smoking habit anyway? Who invented cigarettes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As of the moment, I have a headache and it doesn't help that my parents are leaving me to take care of my brothers and sister. Why can't they be more responsible? My mom needs to be more responsible. She makes me take care of Eman ever since Eman was a little baby. she reasons out that she's too old. Wasn't she "too old" to fuck with my dad therefore creating a baby? Sheesh. If she can't take care of kids, then she shouldn't have born Eman at all. It's not only I who thinks of my mom that way. So do my brothers and sister. I'm sorry if I sound offensive but that's how I feel right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111832157993221025?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111832157993221025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111832157993221025' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111832157993221025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111832157993221025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/06/of-movies-smoking-and-parental.html' title='Of Movies, Smoking and Parental Responsiblity'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017254181063836403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/ecarg.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111831931188145104</id><published>2005-06-09T20:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-09T20:20:24.483+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Change of Schedule</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I went to USC-TC to have my schedule changed. Unfortunately, I still have to go to school 7:30 A.M. everyday, which means I'll be retaining those black rings under my eyes. The latest time I get to go home is 5:30 p.m. Too bad I can't watch Buffy anymore without missing a portion of an episode or the whole thing!!! I only have a one-hour break everyday. Saturdays and sundays will again be my favorite days. No classes on those days!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm currently listening to Sarah Mclachlan and Tori Amos. i wasted my hours of internet on downloading their mp3s.But it's worth it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111831931188145104?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111831931188145104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111831931188145104' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111831931188145104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111831931188145104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/06/change-of-schedule.html' title='Change of Schedule'/><author><name>Sandysunago</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111827990318649460</id><published>2005-06-09T09:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-09T09:18:23.190+08:00</updated><title type='text'>College</title><content type='html'>That's alright steph. I understand about the obsession. Really, you should have bought a laptop that isn't mac.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so you're in section B, just prove to everyone that the people in A aren't deserving. and please put yourself in the dean's list of university scholars no matter what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't know what to expect from my classmates in BS math. If it's going to be really competitive, then bring it on! We're going to be together the whole day the whole week because of the block sectioning (and there are only around 20 of us). I just hope there's no one there like Heinrich, because that's going to force me to have a personal mathematics tutor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, btw, I've met a few of my classmates-to-be and it seems that everyone graduated w/ honors from their previous schools (which are situated in the rather rural areas). Almost everyone's from the kingdom of far far away that I feel like I'm the one from another planet. well at least I'll be with people like you who share the same interest in mathematics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've asked a few if they've been to math competitions and they're negative. I'm also on a look out on who to avoid and who to befriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enrollment in UP is such a bother, harassing, rather. It lasted two days, two WHOLE days. I didn't get on a good start. The second day came w/ all my papers flying everywhere when I dropped them on the road. Windy day! 2 friendly ?seniors? came to the rescue. Bless them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've also searched for prospective lunch places and I've found many just west of UP. I'm only given 1 hour each day to have lunch which means I can't go to JY (waste of time) or Ayala. At least I will have a rather controlled diet and I will be able to save a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do have a lot of things to buy. First on my list: Mane n' Tail Deep Moisturizing Shampoo. I wonder if it works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new cell number is 0915-8102731.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111827990318649460?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111827990318649460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111827990318649460' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111827990318649460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111827990318649460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/06/college.html' title='College'/><author><name>I just twinkled!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05549002786815037681</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/winkydenoyo/twinkle1111.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111823373932219365</id><published>2005-06-08T20:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-08T20:28:59.326+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My hideous hair...</title><content type='html'>Today I got my hair cut. I hate it. I look like a lesbian again with short hair. I hate it. I was at S.M. all this afternoon. I tried to look for a store that sells graphing tablet but my search was a failure. I decided that I will just tell my aunt in manila to buy the graphing tablet at avant which costs 2999 php. I don't care if it'll cost my parents a lot since they have to pay additional for the air mail. I also hope that the boyfriend of my cousin, Onang, will find the Flash software that is compatible with Mac OS already. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, Grace, i am boring you again, right? I'm not in the mood to type so much since... I want to change the color of the game already. I will also read a book after. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I didn't post this yesterday since I didn't use the laptop.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111823373932219365?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111823373932219365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111823373932219365' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111823373932219365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111823373932219365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/06/my-hideous-hair.html' title='My hideous hair...'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13256267727685978318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/stit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111806630638735460</id><published>2005-06-06T21:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T22:36:57.086+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Loathings....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I just found out that I can't install another OS(Windows) in the laptop since...iBook doesn't meet the requirements for a double OS. I still don't understand until now since the stupid lady who sold the laptop to me doesn't reply quickly. She's such a bitch. She just said that I can't have Windows. She didn't explain why. She even said that she wasn't able to reply fast since she has many clients pa daw. I hate her!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate this. If I won't have Windows then I'll be stuck with this Macintosh OS. I hate this OS, I can't install any software in it (even if I'll buy the original softwares I still won't have any since,... nobody sells Macintosh applications!!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I hate this place. I thought Cebu has everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grace must be fed up reading this right now since she said that I talked about the computer for approximately an hour already when I was at their house. You can't blame me, Grace. This is my first possession of something expensive, I don't want it to be put to waste. Now I have to wait to have 12,000 pesos so I can have double OS. unless,... If Apollo can do something miraculous but I think that'll not happen. Waaahhh!!! I'm really sad. really really sad. the stupid lady didn't reply still. i typed lots of words but still she didn't reply still. Stupid slut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, I was at the house of Grace all day. I won't come back in that place anymore. It's not because it's very far from our house (Consolacion to Cebu city: appr. 1 hr. ride). It's because of the inane people living there (except Grace, Francis and E-man). I'm only talking about the house where Raymund and Rose lives. The parents are also excempted from the stupidity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate children. Especially overgrown children who are fourteen years of age but has a mind of a two year old toddler, with a weight problem. I hate people who lack attention. I hate people who compete with me eventhough I don't give a fuck about them. I hate people who can't accept the fact that their lives are that mundane that they need to nose around other people's lives so they may please themselves. I hate people who just sit around and watch T.V. to the point where they mimic it or use the computer all day just for playing some stupid game that makes them dumber and dumber. I hate people who think they're intelligent eventhough they suck in some easy academic subject like Mathematics. For the people who hate Math: too bad, you can't get away with the subject until you are in a third year course in some college. HHAHAHAHHAHAHAH!!! I hate people who hate Math!!! I hate people who get less than 80 for their math grade. I hate people who are just good in one subject that doesn't even count as an academic subject. I hate people who are stupid. I hate people who aren't good in Science and Mathematics. I hate people who laugh at me since I'll be in section B this year (I didn't enroll before 50 students that's why I'm in B) not thinking that they are way stupid than me. I hate people who uses glasses to fiegn that they are intelligent, you are stupid, asshole, get on with it!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grace prefer to watch the stupid movie than to talk to me... someone's calling... *tear*&lt;br /&gt;it was Grace, she just officially said that she'll watch the stupid "kampanerang kuba" than to talk to me *tear*. she doesn't know how sad I am right now. what would you feel if you'd be replaced by a stupid teleserye? fuck it...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111806630638735460?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111806630638735460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111806630638735460' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111806630638735460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111806630638735460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/06/loathings.html' title='Loathings....'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13256267727685978318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/stit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111789074441311258</id><published>2005-06-04T21:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-04T21:26:29.236+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Religion...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;***I finished David Maine's book. I also finshed SW, too before that. I just had no time to make a post about it since I ran out of prepaid card.&lt;br /&gt;***anyways, About David Maine's book. I can't forget the parts where Cham answered Bera that "yahweh made the deluge since he doesn't have any respect for his creation", that Ilya answered that "like most males, he loves destruction for its own sake" And the last saying I can never forget is something that concerns justice. speaking of Yahweh, I remember what I read in the HBHG that yahweh in hebrew means a king-priest, literally just a king priest, it doesn't really imply a "saviour" unlike what stupid christians think. I still think that Jesus didn't really mean saying the things he said before about humanity since he was just buying the people's votes so they will rebel against their roman gov't that time to make him the king "literally" not the king of the whole spiritual world... stupid constantine. the first pope who wasn't even a christian...&lt;br /&gt;***Grace and I just talked through phone. We talked about Christianity and other religions. She really defended the christians. I know religion is important to keep the morality of the citizens but it also brings disadvantages.&lt;br /&gt;***We all know that religion came about because people long time ago can't find a way to explain things around them so to make everything simple they made up some god who made everything for them so they'll have answers to their questions, especially things concerning calamities during that time.&lt;br /&gt;***When man used his reason everything changed. Every answer to his questions ware answered but still religion remained. "Faith is believing in something you know that is not true". One day, everyone will know the truth. One day.&lt;br /&gt;***P.S. I regretted the time when I entertained some idiot. I will not amuse anyone anymore. I am too old still talking to pitiful inane children.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111789074441311258?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111789074441311258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111789074441311258' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111789074441311258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111789074441311258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/06/religion.html' title='Religion...'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13256267727685978318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/stit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111786759865394506</id><published>2005-06-04T14:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-04T14:46:38.656+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Of Hatred, Family and Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm trying to calm my nerves right now. I may appear calm in front of everyone but my insides are boiling hot. I hate my sister. She's a spoiled brat. I scolded her for being so untidy. I mean, she's a girl. She's supposed to be tidy(which is funny cuz. when I think about it, when I was young, I always go home covered in mud and dust...but I take a bath before diving into my bed! Besides, I don't disarrange stuff like her so, I was right in scolding her). Rest assured, my hatred for her won't last. After all, hatred is the acid that destroys the container in which it is stored more than the object on which it is poured. She's crying right now and everyone thinks I'm bad. Even E-man is shouting at me. As if I care. I have my own problems to think about. My father told me I should get a life. I will, all right. My sister's. [Evil laugh]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father said that I was harsh and I shouldn't be because they(him and mom) weren't harsh to me. Right. At that point, I laughed my head off like some deranged maniac and kissed Eman, who was scared of me. Haha. See the scars on my legs, old prick. Oops. Shouldn't have said that. Now I sound uneducated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll go anti-love. Really, who needs it? Butterflies in the tummy and hearts skipping beats...nah, that can't be safe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Current playlist:&lt;br /&gt;***All About the Money-Meja&lt;br /&gt;***Bitch-Merdith Brooks&lt;br /&gt;***You're so Vain-Carly Simon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111786759865394506?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111786759865394506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111786759865394506' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111786759865394506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111786759865394506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/06/of-hatred-family-and-love.html' title='Of Hatred, Family and Love'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017254181063836403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/ecarg.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111780386705697868</id><published>2005-06-03T20:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-04T14:49:27.196+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Work</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;For the first time in so many years, I finally took a break from being slothful and cleaned up my room. I left the bed as is. Underneath the cushions lie 2 things you need not know what. I vowed I wouldn't lay my eyes on these things ever again. Although just a few minutes ago I watched Pamela Anderson's boobs fight her tight leather blouse. That's a giveaway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sorted my clothes according to color and discovered I have so many whites. I sweated enough to lose 1 pound. I gave away a lot of used clothing to my aunt who just left for Manila tonight. KMK?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait for classes to start. By then I can finally have my allowance, and set aside some money for the poor. God, forgive me for hating the rich. They're just haughty hypocrites who go to mass to socialize. Aren't we going to reform the Church one day and start the Neo-Catholicism movement?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111780386705697868?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111780386705697868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111780386705697868' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111780386705697868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111780386705697868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/06/work.html' title='Work'/><author><name>I just twinkled!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05549002786815037681</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/winkydenoyo/twinkle1111.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111771377158767879</id><published>2005-06-02T20:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-02T20:02:51.590+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Of Shawarma, Proper Conduct and Crutches</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Today, Steph, Patrick and I went to Ayala since it's my payday. We went on a food trip and I ate two pieces of Shawarma. It IS addicting, I tell you (I haven't mastered the sauce problem, though...-_-;). Then Steph insisted that we should try eating Pansit Malabon. I have to be honest: Pansit Palabok tastes better than Pansit Malabon (especially the Pansit Palabok at Red Ribbon ^.~).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we were eating, Steph made fun of this boy who was dancing on the dance pad at Timezone. I really do not approve of her making fun of the boy just because he was wearing pink and showing off his moves (though no one was watching...-_-;). And to add insult to injury, she shouted at the poor boy, calling him "bayot" (that's Cebuano for a male homosexual). So, I gave her a LONG lecture (I know...I sound like a mother...-_-;) about proper conduct in public. Well, at least Steph isn't someone typical, because if she were, I'm sure we won't be in speaking terms right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother, Francis arrived from the hospital. He underwent tendon repair on his left foot. Temporarily, he's a cripple on crutches. He says he misses me because at the hospital, nobody teases him and talks to him 'cept for the nurses (he thinks the nurses are falling for him...^.~).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steph and I covered our notebooks today. I can't believe that I'll be in college in less than two weeks. Oh, well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111771377158767879?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111771377158767879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111771377158767879' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111771377158767879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111771377158767879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/06/of-shawarma-proper-conduct-and.html' title='Of Shawarma, Proper Conduct and Crutches'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017254181063836403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/ecarg.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111763396063119932</id><published>2005-06-01T21:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-01T21:52:40.636+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Steph</title><content type='html'>this is a &lt;a href="http://www.geocities.com/twinkledenoyo/stephanie.JPG"&gt;pic&lt;/a&gt; of steph when she was 5. she used to be a model in some japanese dressmaking magazine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's really quite amazing. the little girl looks so much like stephanie!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111763396063119932?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111763396063119932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111763396063119932' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111763396063119932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111763396063119932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/06/steph.html' title='Steph'/><author><name>I just twinkled!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05549002786815037681</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/winkydenoyo/twinkle1111.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111754667327086548</id><published>2005-05-31T21:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-31T21:37:53.273+08:00</updated><title type='text'>when all is lost</title><content type='html'>I lost a lot this month. It's simply tragedic. I don't want to elaborate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111754667327086548?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111754667327086548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111754667327086548' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111754667327086548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111754667327086548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/05/when-all-is-lost.html' title='when all is lost'/><author><name>I just twinkled!</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05549002786815037681</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://www.geocities.com/winkydenoyo/twinkle1111.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111743305151874705</id><published>2005-05-30T19:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-30T14:27:45.206+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Of Freud and Sexuality</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;After reading SW, Steph got interested in Sigmund Freud's theories.  So, here are some things that I know about Freud's theories that Steph (and whoever is  reading this) might find interesting.  Enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Freud theorized that there are 5 stages of psychological development. At the oral stage the main issue is dependency, at the anal stage the main issue is self control, at the phallic stage the main issue is sexual identity, at the latency stage it's skill development, and at the genital stage its creativity and productivity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Freud theorized that psychological problems are related to problems during one or more of these stages. For example, being too cared for or too neglected causes someone to be orally fixated, too much or too little control causes someone to be anally fixated, insufficient parental role modeling causes phallic fixation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An orally fixated person is either irrationally dependent (expects what they want to just appear) or irrationally independent (always refuses help).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An anally fixated person is either irrationally self controlled and servile to authority or has no self control and is compulsively defiant of authority.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A phallicly fixated person is either a sexual compulsive (sexually innappropriate/promiscuous) or sexually repressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Freud did not classify any latent fixation but I think it is as plausible as those at the other stages. I speculate that people that like to learn and acquire knowledge without any purpose or people that are compulsively non curious represent both dysfunctional ends of the latency spectrum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The genital stage is the final Freudian developmental stage and according to Freud people don't all succeed at this. Freud believed the ideal for human happiness is to be happy in love and work, problems in one or the other cause unhappiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111743305151874705?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111743305151874705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111743305151874705' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111743305151874705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111743305151874705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/05/of-freud-and-sexuality.html' title='Of Freud and Sexuality'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017254181063836403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/ecarg.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111737273797360979</id><published>2005-05-29T21:04:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-29T21:29:10.456+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing of Interest</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Didn't do anything of interest today...I slept,did chores,babysitted my baby brother...to add some color to this page, here are some randomly chosen pictures that you might want to see..&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/Pix/eman.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Eman...this is my baby brother.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/Pix/highschool.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Twinkle, me and Serene getting ready for school...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/Pix/km8s.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Some of my classmates...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/Pix/lips.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;My lips...hehehe...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/Pix/stit.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;"The Melancholy Death of Stephanie"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/Pix/nadzstephtwinx.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twinkle giving Steph a ----...hehe...Nadine not minding 'em...hehe...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111737273797360979?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111737273797360979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111737273797360979' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111737273797360979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111737273797360979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/05/nothing-of-interest.html' title='Nothing of Interest'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017254181063836403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/ecarg.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/Pix/th_eman.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111728891856475032</id><published>2005-05-28T22:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-08T18:51:54.416+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanks.</title><content type='html'>Hi! This is Serene. Thanks to my two best friends, I'm given this chance to be heard in their site. Thanks&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111728891856475032?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111728891856475032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111728891856475032' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111728891856475032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111728891856475032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/05/thanks.html' title='Thanks.'/><author><name>Sandysunago</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111728638722349643</id><published>2005-05-28T21:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-28T21:29:32.193+08:00</updated><title type='text'>what?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;***Today, Grace finished making the presentation for my father. In my opinion, I think it'll pass for the people in QFI. After all, my father was the only one who used such presentation with lots of things that are quite not monotonous unlike the other agencies who presented before my father.&lt;br /&gt;***Anyways, I miss reading the SW. I think I can finish it this night if I'll not stop reading it. I wonder what happened to Hilde?&lt;br /&gt;***Since I can't think of anything else that I can talk about, I'll just talk about "Burnham,the iguana." Burnham was left on the floor this morning. When I came back it was sleeping on the couch. I don't even think that the iguana should be called Burnham since that's a name of a male. We don't even know what gender it is.&lt;br /&gt;***What else? I went to the house of Grace again and she fed me spaghetti and some barbecues. I just ate the meats on sticks since I don't like the taste of the spaghetti. after eating I helped... oops. Almost said what I should not talk about. *laughs*&lt;br /&gt;***Eman cried when he saw me. he's very evil.&lt;br /&gt;***I rode two jeepneys to come back here in our house.&lt;br /&gt;***I still have a problem with my laptop. I still don't have any program installed in it. It's like what Grace said: "your laptop is like a computer from any internet cafe since you only have internet access and Microsoft programs." *weeps*&lt;br /&gt;***If someone can let me borrow their program (any useful program) that is compatible with macintosh I will repay you even in cash (as long as it doesn't exceed 100 php since I'll just borrow it!).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111728638722349643?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111728638722349643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111728638722349643' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111728638722349643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111728638722349643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/05/what.html' title='what?'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13256267727685978318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/stit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111728651202673773</id><published>2005-05-28T21:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-28T21:21:52.030+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Of Presentations and Househelp</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Today, Steph and I finished her father's presentation. I don't know if it's really good but basing from the way Steph's father clapped his hands after seeing it, I think it's good enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The househelp's gone and I am glad. To be totally honest, I hate having househelp around, especially if they're ungrateful, arrogant and evil. Finally, I won't get to hear people shouting at me, I won't see my baby brother tortured, won't get to hear complaints about how miserable their lives are and how they badly wanted to make money by marrying some rich guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are the people/things/places that I've been missing lately:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***School. I can't wait to be in a classroom already and listen to the teacher.&lt;br /&gt;***Teaching. I tried teaching my little brother his ABC's and 123's but it's not enough. I want a lively discussion where I learn and at the same time, teach.&lt;br /&gt;***Halo-halo. This summer, I only ate halo-halo thrice. I want to eat halo-halo again.&lt;br /&gt;***Twinkle and Serene. I miss talking to 'em, I miss formulating evil schemes with 'em, I miss listening to 'em rant and rave about their crushes...hehe.&lt;br /&gt;***My classmates. I learned a lot from interacting with 'em.&lt;br /&gt;***My teachers, both the the benign and the malignant ones.&lt;br /&gt;***Bantayan. I love that place. I want to go back to Bantayan again.&lt;br /&gt;***Make up. I miss dressing up and taking pictures of myself(narcissist!). Which leads me to miss...&lt;br /&gt;***Steph's digi cam. My dad promised to buy one, but until now, he hasn't bought any. Steph's digi cam is the one that I use all the time. Hehe.&lt;br /&gt;***The Nightmare Before Christmas. Just the best movie ever. I love this one. I love Jack. I love Sally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And lastly...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***My childhood. Don't ask why...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111728651202673773?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111728651202673773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111728651202673773' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111728651202673773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111728651202673773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/05/of-presentations-and-househelp.html' title='Of Presentations and Househelp'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017254181063836403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/ecarg.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111720036903433619</id><published>2005-05-27T21:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-27T21:34:55.480+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Of High school, Books and Shawarma</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;***Woke up early today since I have to buy cloth for my uniform. I can't believe it. I'm actually going to be in college already.&lt;br /&gt;***Almost fought with Steph. Creative differences, I should say. We weren't able to finish the presentation today because the diskette did not open.&lt;br /&gt;***Due to frustration, Steph and I watched television and discovered that television makes you dull.&lt;br /&gt;***Steph turned off the television(she can't take the corny jokes shown in ABS-CBN and the noise is bothersome) and we then read books.&lt;br /&gt;***Went to the mall with Steph. She wants to buy a rewritable CD and the funny thing is, she can't believe that it costs only 8 php. It's generic, after all that's why it's cheap. But it's good.&lt;br /&gt;***Bought a book. I know, I know. I haven't read all my books yet but I DO enjoy hoarding 'em...I'm like Mr. Norrell...I love to see books around me.&lt;br /&gt;***Ate Shawarma with Steph. I know, I know. I used to hate Shawarma but I'm beginning to like eating it(though I don't know how to eat it without the sauce dribbling on my chin...-_-; Steph's so good at it...). According to Steph, Shawarma's like a drug. You get addicted to it. We'll see if I get addicted to it.&lt;br /&gt;***Met Mel at Ayala.&lt;br /&gt;***Today is the last day of prayers for me. Yey.&lt;br /&gt;***Ate half a block of cheese with my baby brother, Eman. I'm going to be sick later...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing Mel at Ayala reminds me of high school. I miss high school, to be honest with you(Yes, and I know Steph'll be gagging and laughing when she reads this...^___^). I learned a lot in high school, after all. It was in high school that I learned to be humble, to respect everyone. It was in high school after all that I met my best friends. *sigh* Oh, well. I'll reminisce on the next entry. Now's not the time...hehe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111720036903433619?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111720036903433619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111720036903433619' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111720036903433619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111720036903433619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/05/of-high-school-books-and-shawarma.html' title='Of High school, Books and Shawarma'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017254181063836403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/ecarg.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111719828176334833</id><published>2005-05-27T20:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-27T21:46:29.113+08:00</updated><title type='text'>routine...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;***+whew+ I was so busy making the presentation of my father since Grace isn't with me right now(she's still praying for the soul of her deceased mother, erp, I mean: Grandmother). I wish the one who's dead is Grace's mother.&lt;br /&gt;***why do I loathe Grace's mother? I hate her because she is very close-minded. She's this old geezer who really debates with people like Grace and I about things concerning politics and religion. Usually it's about religion. She's this type who defends the Catholic Dogmas with predisposition. I remember Grace narrating me a story about her mother, here it goes:&lt;br /&gt;Stupid Mater: you should go to the church since that's the only way you will be liberated from your sins.&lt;br /&gt;Grace: Why? how can you be sure about that?&lt;br /&gt;Stupid Mater: Because that's the way everything goes - with her stupid look.&lt;br /&gt;Grace: looking uninterested - I don't need to have that answer. I want proof.&lt;br /&gt;Stupid Mater: No!!! Catholicism is the truth!!! No!!! - Tears.&lt;br /&gt;***okay, okay. I exaggerated the part where Grace's mother cried. i'm not sure if that's the story but I think that's how everything goes.it's such a shame Grace is forced to live with her mother for 5 years more or six. She'll be forced to go to church every Sunday (which is Apollo's day and according to the Catholics it's God's day(they even claim they're monogamist? whatever Pagans!!!)). I'm so lucky to have passive parents, I can't even remember the last time I went to that damned church.&lt;br /&gt;***anyways, I ate shawarma this day (with Grace). We went to Ayala to buy RWCDs and Grace was able to buy a book, too. Is it just me who thinks it's awkward to buy books without even finishing the book you're reading? It's because Grace is this type who hoards books all the time until she loses all of her money. Isn't that weird? *laughs* oh well, at least I'm getting to know Grace better. 'til then.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111719828176334833?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111719828176334833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111719828176334833' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111719828176334833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111719828176334833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/05/routine.html' title='routine...'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13256267727685978318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/stit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111711416148549895</id><published>2005-05-26T21:28:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-26T21:49:47.760+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Day to live... or is it all just a dream???</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;***I woke up this eleven oclock in the morning and I feel unhappy. I dont know why, its just the way I perceive it.&lt;br /&gt;***I read something in the SW concerning about Humes philosophies. I can conclude that the "feelings" owned by people are a disadvantage. Just like this instance: A flood disaster renders millions of homeless, it is our feeling that determine whether we come to their aid. If we are callous, and leave the whole thing to "cold reason", we might think it was actually quite in order that millions of people die in a world that is threatened by overpopulation. - I prefer the callous reason than the stupid feelings. Actually, whenever there is a news talking about death of millions because of the calamities I just smirk and say: "Why should everyone be sad? we should even rejoice since thatll lessen our population." and after I said that the people who heard me will yak something about god and conscience. ha!&lt;br /&gt;***another example is about the criminals who are about to die with lethal injection. Again, there are many who protest that death penalty should be stopped because (according to them) that person wants to live, too. Is it not a stupid reason? If we will allow more people do to the same thing and they will not be punished, then they will do it over and over again since they know they wont die anyway. I hate feelings.&lt;br /&gt;***Im actually in page 308 of SW. I hate it. I hope I can go to the part of Darwin directly since Im so tired of hearing philosophers of the Enlightenment time. They are boring me. They kept on talking about the "immortality of the soul" and proving that there is such thing as god. Im so fed of of hearing the same philosophy over and over. I have noticed that the philosophers in the middle ages are just copying the phillosophies of Aristotle, Democritus, Spinoza, even the Stoics, WHY CANT THEY MAKE THEIR OWN FUCKING PHILOSOPHIES?????!!!!!!! FUCK THEM!!!!&lt;br /&gt;***I am already in the chapter Hegel. If you dont know him,then you are stupid. Yes, you are. When I was about to finish the chapter of romanticism, Alberto made me laugh. He said that it is possible that there is an author who is writing the story about Hilde and Albert and Albert (who is the character of the author) writes about the story about Alberto and Sophie. Then Sophie exclaimed "I dont want to be a shadow of a shadow!." I just laughed and it made me think how narcissistic Jostein Gaarder must be.&lt;br /&gt;***By the way, when Grace and I talked earlier this afternoon. She brought up the expression "for petes sake." come to think of it, who is Pete? Is it Peter? And did anyone who used the expression asked themselves who is Pete?... Maybe that question will remain as a question for now.&lt;br /&gt;***P.S. I wont use commas anymore since .cwk is not compatible here in this blog. too bad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111711416148549895?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111711416148549895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111711416148549895' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111711416148549895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111711416148549895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/05/another-day-to-live-or-is-it-all-just.html' title='Another Day to live... or is it all just a dream???'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13256267727685978318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/stit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111711450057796307</id><published>2005-05-26T20:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-26T21:35:00.580+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Of Men and Water</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Today, Steph did not come to our house so we weren't able to finish the presentation today. It's not so bad, at least I had time to finish reading David Maine's book.  I must say, WOW. The book is good.  It's really worth reading, I tell you. It's not for those people who confuse reality with fiction, though (erm... people who believe the stuff Dan Brown says. I'm not saying that he is wrong but guys, he writes FICTION.). It's a realistic account of "The Great Deluge." Somehow, it makes the characters in the Bible appear more human than holy. As much as I want to say a lot of things about it, I can't. I promised Steph I won't divulge anything that would make the plot obvious. She is still to read the book, you see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After reading the book, I decided to clean my room and cover all my books and notebooks with plastic. Sadly, I wasn't able to accomplish the said task. Everytime I pick up a piece of paper, I start reading what I wrote there before throwing it away. Eventually, I ended up not throwing a lot of clutter*sigh*. But I'll finish cleaning my room...but not now because it's night time. Tomorrow maybe. Today is gone but tomorrow will be okay...hehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is the birthday of my deceased grandmother, so it's twice the number of prayers for me. *sigh* When will this end?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111711450057796307?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111711450057796307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111711450057796307' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111711450057796307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111711450057796307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/05/of-men-and-water.html' title='Of Men and Water'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017254181063836403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/ecarg.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111702839110602343</id><published>2005-05-25T21:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-25T21:40:46.490+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hectic Day.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;***Spent the most of the day polishing the presentation of Steph's dad.&lt;br /&gt;***Steph and I almost fought. Creative differences, I should say.&lt;br /&gt;***At around 2:30 PM, went to Fooda to buy Chinese lumpia. Ahh...food. I love food.&lt;br /&gt;***Started reading David Maine's "The Preservationist." So far, I haven't been disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;***Prayed for the dead soul of my grandmother. I really don't see the point in praying when I don't even understand what the prayer leaders are blabbering. It's in Visaya. I mean, I am a Visayan but it's deep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be honest, I really want to make the presentation of Steph's dad good. I don't know why. It's not even mine. I won't even benefit from it(I'll only get cash^___^). Oh, well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111702839110602343?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111702839110602343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111702839110602343' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111702839110602343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111702839110602343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/05/hectic-day.html' title='Hectic Day.'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017254181063836403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/ecarg.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111702853527624650</id><published>2005-05-25T21:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-26T21:39:44.950+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Day to Grow</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I spent almost all my day in Grace's house since Grace helped me make the presentation of my father. Actually, it is wrong to say just "helped me" since Grace did almost all of the job. *laughs*&lt;br /&gt; Nothing much happened this day. Maybe a little *wink* but it's a secret. Anyways, my sister is still stupid. She still pronounces "heir" as "hair". What's wrong with people today?&lt;br /&gt; I think at least half of the population here in the Philippines is becoming dumber and dumber. When I was in Manila I was able to see a sign with a writing: "no Tresspassing". I just smirked since I'm not appalled anymore by erroneous spellings since cellphone is rampant in the country already. I even saw a sign: "only God know Hudas not pay". Again, I wasn't surprised, instead, I pity the Filipinos already. Not only we are burdened with $200B-debt we are burdened with vacuousity. I think we shouldn't blame corruption of the gov't as a result of our poverty but we should blame our way of living, too. just think about it. why are Filipinos stupid? because almost everyone is a catholic. BLAME RELIGION I TELL YOU!!! don't get me started.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111702853527624650?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111702853527624650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111702853527624650' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111702853527624650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111702853527624650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/05/another-day-to-grow.html' title='Another Day to Grow'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13256267727685978318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/stit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111694616852907016</id><published>2005-05-24T22:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-24T22:49:28.533+08:00</updated><title type='text'>May day</title><content type='html'>i spent almost my whole day today at Grace's house. It's because I need to finish the presentation of my father. "P-Rot" was supposed to be the one who'll help me but "P-Rot" had things to do,too, this day. Anyways, Grace just showed how really good she is when it concerns Computer related porgrams. I hope I can be like her, too, one day. I will study Fireworks one day, too. for now I am focused on Flash eh. I prefer animations than just stationary objects. by the way, Grace treated me a pizza at some restaurant (I can't say it 'cause if I will, people'll know where we eat and if they will, they will eat there,too, since almost all of the people related to me are posers.) anyway, E-man socked me a lot of times that I lost track of it. well, that's it for this day, I was 'posed to type more but I don't want to keep Grace waiting since we are talkingthrough YM right now. 'tata&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111694616852907016?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111694616852907016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111694616852907016' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111694616852907016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111694616852907016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/05/may-day.html' title='May day'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13256267727685978318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/stit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111694593421522616</id><published>2005-05-24T22:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-24T22:45:34.220+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Annoying Phrases...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;This post is inspired by the people here in my house. Read on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Like" (used all the time). You're not in high school anymore, ho. Learn to talk like an adult and express yourself in a coherent manner. I can understand the word being used sometimes, but like, it just gets, like, annoying really fast. The same goes for "hmm" or "uhhh" or "ya know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Put on a happy face." Translation: I don't care about your feelings, and the least you could do is &lt;i&gt;pretend&lt;/i&gt; that you're happy and stop wasting my time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any quote from any movie when it is either not funny and/or overused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have better things to say, but somehow, when I start typing 'em down or putting 'em on paper, my thoughts just...vanish. Sheesh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111694593421522616?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111694593421522616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111694593421522616' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111694593421522616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111694593421522616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/05/annoying-phrases.html' title='Annoying Phrases...'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017254181063836403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/ecarg.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111685460786194722</id><published>2005-05-23T21:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-23T21:36:43.500+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Today.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;***Woke up at around 10:00 AM. Head hurts.&lt;br /&gt;***Watched "Simone" on HBO with Steph. That was the first time Steph saw that movie and I can see the amusement in her eyes.&lt;br /&gt;***Conjured "evil" plans about making simulations.&lt;br /&gt;***Spent day with Konat.&lt;br /&gt;***Went to National Bookstore and realized how broke I am.T__T&lt;br /&gt;***Read "The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy" 5 times.&lt;br /&gt;***Prayed for the soul of my deceased grandmother.&lt;br /&gt;***Brainstormed about the possible questions that I would ask people for my survey.&lt;br /&gt;***Have about 50 questions, which I'll be reviewing later.&lt;br /&gt;***Felt the need to get a job.&lt;br /&gt;***Got a job editing the ppt presentation of Steph's father...&lt;br /&gt;***Only to find out that I won't get paid...-_-;&lt;br /&gt;***made a &lt;a href="http://www.geocities.com/faux_prophetess/about.html"&gt;faq&lt;/a&gt; page.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111685460786194722?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111685460786194722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111685460786194722' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111685460786194722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111685460786194722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/05/today.html' title='Today.'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017254181063836403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/ecarg.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111685299624589283</id><published>2005-05-23T20:54:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-23T21:42:07.946+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Day today with "P-Rot"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I was able to be with "P-Rot" this day.  "P-Rot" is really cute all day since  "P-Rot" gave me all  "P-Rot's" time since  "P-Rot" knows that I miss  "P-Rot", which means that I am really desperate for  "P-Rot's" attention. anyways,  "P-Rot" gave me a kiss, too.  "P-Rot's" kiss is really intimate that I can't really describe it. all I can say is that the kiss that  "P-Rot" gave me is like my first kiss since  it's been two weeks since we last kissed each other. we went to Ayala earlier. We drank coffee since that's  "P-Rot's" favorite beverage. we were supposed to watch some movie but all of the movie played are Star Wars and Bikini Open (some stupid filipino movie with cheap sex scenes). I hate Star Wars by the way. it's full of computer effects and since I know that almost everything in that movie is fake, I prefer not to watch it, I prefer to make my own visual effects. Anyways,  "P-Rot" was with me earlier too to find a software compatible to macintosh OS since I am really desperate to find Flash MX Professional 2004. unfortunately, we didn't find any software compatible to mac. *tear* but it's okay since  "P-Rot" was there to comfort me and keep my hopes up since  "P-Rot" knows almost any place that sells softwares.  "P-Rot" will help me too tomorrow aboiut my father's presentation using powerpoint.  "P-Rot's" really good in computers that's why I prefer to ask for  "P-Rot's" help so that I will be able to help my conniving father with his presentation. after all, I can ask him to buy things for me if I'll help him. I'm not really sure if he'll buy but knowing my father, I think he will if my help concerns his business prejocts. Grace talked to me earlier through the phone. She made me laugh all the time, that's why I like Grace a lot. She never fails to flicker a smile to myh face. well, that's all for now since I know that  "P-Rot'll" talk to me online later and when that time comes, I will not be able to type things here in this blog. speaking about this blog I want to share a lot of informations about my stay in Manila.&lt;br /&gt;1. I hate Makati, Manila for the fact that it is very polluted. [for the people who think that Manila isn't really that polluted since there is always a possibility that the media is just exaggerating: to tell you the truth: The media is right: manila is really polluted and very hot]. I prefer to stay here in Cebu. It's really clean plus there're more people who are intelligent here than in the capital city of the Philippines.&lt;br /&gt;2. As I said: there are more people who are intelligent here than in that damned place. When I was there I was speaking English to most of the sales people there to ask infos when it comes to laptops, honestly, they suck in speaking in that language so i was forced to speak in their dialect, Tagalog.&lt;br /&gt;3. My relatives there (my father's side) are all stupid. there's this cousin of mine, named Bryan, he said he doesn't want to go to school anymore since highschool is really hard, he's so stupid for giving up highschool. another cousin of mine, named Angela, must be the most pathetic person I am related to. she is a POSER. I hate posers, I would really respect a person for being true to oneself but a person who is the opposite of that would receive loathing from me. she is a major poseur (I can compare her to Eloise (the Bad Breath)). She feigns to like things related to agnosticism she also makes my friend, Grace, her friend, too. I am not that possessive when it comes to my friends but using them for intelligence is way out of league. I hate that stupid bitch, se even claimed to be a ramp model . nyahaha. she is really nitwitted. I should stop talking about that oaf.&lt;br /&gt;4. I don't want to evercome back in that podunk place ever again.&lt;br /&gt;I think this entry in enough. I think all my rants are sufficient already for a day. I'll continue next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111685299624589283?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111685299624589283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111685299624589283' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111685299624589283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111685299624589283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/05/my-day-today-with-p-rot.html' title='My Day today with &quot;P-Rot&quot;'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13256267727685978318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/stit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111676985707037979</id><published>2005-05-22T21:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-22T21:52:16.290+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day Today...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;***Woke up late because I slept at 2:00 A.M. Reason: it's our town fiesta and there's a disco and the boom box was really "booming."&lt;br /&gt;***Because I woke up late,  I had to go to mass with my family.&lt;br /&gt;***Bought school supplies. Oh, joy! I also bought a book, "Word Power" to enhance my vocabulary skills.&lt;br /&gt;***Talked with my "Konat" for hours.&lt;br /&gt;***Mom got pissed cuz. I was using the phone too much.&lt;br /&gt;***Mom threatened to not let me use the phone ever again.&lt;br /&gt;***Went to the Family Park with my family and relatives. I have to...so that I can go with my "Konat" tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;***Tried to amuse myself by playing with the video camera.&lt;br /&gt;***Played with my baby brother to the point of exhaustion.&lt;br /&gt;***Sang my lungs out to annoy my mother.&lt;br /&gt;***Went home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, that's my day. Tomorrow's going to be great. Promise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111676985707037979?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111676985707037979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111676985707037979' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111676985707037979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111676985707037979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/05/day-today.html' title='Day Today...'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017254181063836403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/ecarg.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111676873228730086</id><published>2005-05-22T21:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-22T21:56:57.173+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Hello,&lt;br /&gt;          This is the first time I type here in my new laptop.&lt;br /&gt;So...here's something for my "P-rot":&lt;br /&gt; P-Rot, I can't wait to be with you on Monday. Why can't we be together when I need you the most? I was thinking about you all night. why? P-Rot, I LOVE YOU!!! baby, bakit kaya kailangan na hindi muna tayo magkita? I called you earlier tapos wala ka sa inyo because nasa Ayala ka daw. wawa naman ako. ehehe. Love, I LOVE YOU!&lt;br /&gt; I know you are fed up hearing me say that, but to tell yhou the truth: I don't get fed up saying it..... to be continued...&lt;br /&gt; P.S. P-rot and I are actually talking right now through yahoo messenger. I hope we can be like this forever... I hate my stupid brother, he wants to use the phone and if he will I will not be able to continue talking to you right now. I miss you, P-rot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111676873228730086?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111676873228730086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111676873228730086' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111676873228730086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111676873228730086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/05/thoughts.html' title='Thoughts'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13256267727685978318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/stit.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13071903.post-111674943707969492</id><published>2005-05-22T16:04:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-22T16:12:59.410+08:00</updated><title type='text'>How to Kill an Eel.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Ummm....I know Steph expects a better post but I can't make one...yet. So, for the sake of something, here is something funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW TO KILL AN EEL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little Johnny was 7 years old, and like other boys his age, rather curious. He had been hearing quite a bit about courting from other boys and he wondered what it was and how it was done. One day he took his questions to his mother, and she became flustered. Instead of explaining things to Johnny she told him to hide behind the curtain one night and watch his older sister and her boyfriend. This he did, and the following morning Johnny described everything to his mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sis and her boyfriend sat and talked for awhile, then he turned off most of the lights. Then he started to kiss and hug her, I figured sis must be getting sick because her face started looking funny. He must have thought so too because he put his hand inside her blouse to feel her heart, just like the doctor would. Except he's not as good as the doctor, because he seemed to have trouble finding her heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was getting sick too, because pretty soon both of them started panting and getting all out of breath. His other hand must have been getting cold because he put it under her skirt. About this time, sis got toward the end of the couch. This was when the fever started. I know it was a fever because sis told him that she was really HOT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, I found out what was making them so sick.... a big eel had gotten inside his pants somehow. It just jumped out of his pants and stood there about 9 inches long. HONEST! Anyway, he grabbed it in one hand to keep it from getting away. When sis saw it she got really scared. Her eyes got big and her mouth fell open, and she started calling out to God and stuff like that. I should tell her about the ones I saw at the lake!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Anyway," sis got brave and tried to kill the eel by biting its head off. All of a sudden, she made a noise and let the eel go... I guess it bit her back. Then she grabbed it with both hands and held it tight while he took a muzzle out of his pocket and slipped it over the eel's head to keep it from biting again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sis lay back and spread her legs so she could get a scissor lock on it. And he helped by laying on top of the eel. The eel put up a hell of a fight. Sis started groaning and squealing and her boyfriend almost upset the couch. I guess they wanted to kill the eel by squishing it between them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a while they both quit moving and gave a great sigh. Her boyfriend sat up and sure enough they had killed the eel... I knew it was dead because it just hung there limp and some of its insides were hanging out. Sis and her boyfriend were a little tired from the battle, but they went on courting anyway. He started hugging and kissing her again. And by golly, the eel wasn't dead after all. It jumped straight up and started to fight again. I guess eels are like cats.... they have nine lives or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time sis jumped up and tried to kill the eel by sitting on it. After about 35 minutes of struggle, they finally killed the eel. I know it was dead this time because I saw sis's boyfriend peel off the skin and flush it down the toilet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother fainted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13071903-111674943707969492?l=sstg.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/feeds/111674943707969492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13071903&amp;postID=111674943707969492' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111674943707969492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13071903/posts/default/111674943707969492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sstg.blogspot.com/2005/05/how-to-kill-eel.html' title='How to Kill an Eel.'/><author><name>Grace</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11017254181063836403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y218/faux_prophetess/ecarg.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry></feed>
