<?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-36928411</id><updated>2011-05-30T02:12:48.024+08:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><subtitle type='html'>Joyful, solemn, depressing, jovial... fanciful words to describe the ride of Life. I'm not preachin' the "Life is a maze of ups and downs" theory, in fact, I'm more inclined towards the "Life is a bloody cesspool of tragedies" one. But I also don't like to force my opinions on others, so I will let you decide if Life sucks, or Life rocks. That's all I have to say. Comprehende?</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>36</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36928411.post-2988997546388951320</id><published>2007-03-25T13:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-25T13:33:53.678+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-2988997546388951320?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/2988997546388951320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=2988997546388951320' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/2988997546388951320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/2988997546388951320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2007/03/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-4543493029608849717</id><published>2007-03-19T07:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-19T07:16:27.734+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay. Only one post to tell you guys that on the 30th of March 2007, I will arrive @ Changi Airport and spend 2 weeks in Singapore :D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yup. Look forward to seeing you guys in 2 weeks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-4543493029608849717?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/4543493029608849717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=4543493029608849717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/4543493029608849717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/4543493029608849717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2007/03/okay.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-427278274331722837</id><published>2007-02-10T12:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-02-01T13:23:33.221+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay. I'm currently debating whether I should inform the general population about my URL change. I mean, I'm kinda missing the tags from you 6SYians. Ai.... but then again, having this private ranting space is pretty cool. Damn, I'm sounding bimbotic again T.T   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned 13 on Thursday, the 8th of February, 2006. :) Should I put on a new skin to commemorate my birthday? Haizzz... probably not. Ok, enough about my pathetic self. Moving on now... to PLC! Okay (why do I keep saying ok?), well, it's good. The food is okay. I'm okay. Everybody's ok. Yeah, okay, okay, okay... a fat load of OKs. People are nice, place is nice, atmosphere is nice. Well, maybe it's not as nice as I'm making it out to be. I mean, it's hard to be truthful when people are watching your every word. Sigh.. okay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip! Over and out...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-427278274331722837?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/427278274331722837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=427278274331722837' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/427278274331722837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/427278274331722837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2007/02/okay.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-2462030377944871621</id><published>2007-02-01T13:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-02-01T13:23:33.418+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Right then. Hmmm.... this is gonna be like, the first major post for me (well, important post) in like, WEEKS! For all those girls that haven't been in touch lately *glare* I'm currently in PLC MELBOURNE! &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;HOW COOL IS THAT?!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;--- insane laughter echoes in the computer room.  Lol. Ok, yeah, I'm in Melbourne. FINALLY! And the people here are SO cool. Even the gappies :)    They remind me of Savery and Georgina. The ones here are from the UK :)    I'm like, putting WAY too many smilies in this post, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;but i don't care!&lt;/span&gt; I'm just like, in a totally euphoric state, and I'm like, totally losing my mind with happiness! Even though I've got a real shithead for a form teacher, who cares? I'm still wackily happy! And even though I look like my favourite pet's just died (which is how I often look), who cares? THIS PLACE STILL ROCKS! okay. WAY too hyped up now to actually say anything besides 'PLC MELBOURNE ROCKS!'. so I'll just go now. Will try to post soon, but there aren't many computers here, and there isn't wireless for my laptop, so yeah, a bit inconvenient to post frequently. Will try my VERY best, so STAY TUNED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip!!! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-2462030377944871621?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/2462030377944871621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=2462030377944871621' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/2462030377944871621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/2462030377944871621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2007/02/right-then.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-5029941034738736690</id><published>2007-01-24T22:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-25T00:04:20.901+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I just realised today how much I'm gonna miss you PLCians. Seriously, I am &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;going to miss you guys! To be absolutely truthful here (sorry if I damage any egos), I actually wanted to go to Melbourne after a while. When I first heard that I was gonna transfer I went ballistic. Totally. Completely. Ballistic. But that's a thing of the past. A few days before school ended, I was looking forward to going to this new PLC. And now, 2 months from Speech Night, the 24th of January 2007, I want to go back to the PLC in Perth!!!! OMG, I REALLY WANT TO GO BACK!!!! *breaks down in a flood of tears    T.T *    Okay, maybe I'm not drowning in tears of sorrow, but I get this hollow feeling near my heart, a physical feeling. I can feel this ache, (no, I don't have heartburn) this tangible burn whenever I look at the Boarder's photo, whenever I look at my white shirt with words scribbled all over it by my Year 7/8 and 9 friends, whenever I see an entry on my tagboard from Maddi, even when I see the word 'Pinky' on something in the stores. I think it's called Regret. Or Loneliness. Or Doubt. Or Anxiety. Or Sorrow. Or maybe it's just as simple as missing a loved one, or in this case, loved ones. I'm very sure that some people found me supremely irritating, bossy, condescending, or just plain weird. Some of those people I actually wanted to be friends with. I guess I tried too hard, then. But I hope that those few that hated me no longer do. Because while our hate used to be mutual, it's a one-sided affair now, it's yours. Even to Pinky, who will probably kill me if she sees what I've written previously about her on this blog, I actually miss you. You weren't the greatest chum, or the bestest friend, but you were fun. In a weird, stupid, fucked up way, I actually liked you. In fact, I still do. I hold no grudges against those that backstabbed me, or black-mouthed me. You know who you are, and so do I. But all is forgiven. God knows I deserved most of those comments for being bitchy. Anyway, as I said before, all is forgotten now. I am determined to keep happy memories of PLC.. of the people, the teachers (Falkner-sensei, Ms Daemi, Mrs Boyne, Mrs Hales, Ms Orrock, Nugie and little Nugie, Savery, Mrs Kowalik, Ms Gibson, Ms Ryan), the atmosphere, the food (yes, even the slop).. basically, everything. The little catfights, the tantrums, tears, homesickness, hate, love, joy, friendship, betrayal. All are happy memories, lessons to be learnt, obstacles to overcome as we move forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know this probably doesn't mean anything to you 6SYians, but I just had to write this. I'm sorry for boring you guys half to death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-5029941034738736690?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/5029941034738736690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=5029941034738736690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/5029941034738736690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/5029941034738736690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-just-realised-today-how-much-im-gonna.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-4437831964014296423</id><published>2007-01-19T14:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-19T14:48:12.273+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Name the name of one of your friends starting from A and ending on Z&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anthea&lt;br /&gt;Bonnie&lt;br /&gt;Charlene&lt;br /&gt;Dione&lt;br /&gt;Emma T.&lt;br /&gt;Fann&lt;br /&gt;Georgia&lt;br /&gt;Hannah&lt;br /&gt;Ian&lt;br /&gt;Julia&lt;br /&gt;Kat Scarff&lt;br /&gt;Lynnett&lt;br /&gt;Maddi&lt;br /&gt;Natassia&lt;br /&gt;Olivia&lt;br /&gt;Pinky&lt;br /&gt;Q&lt;br /&gt;Rachel&lt;br /&gt;Samsie&lt;br /&gt;Tess Del Popolo&lt;br /&gt;U&lt;br /&gt;Viv&lt;br /&gt;Wei Ling&lt;br /&gt;Xin Rui&lt;br /&gt;Yandao&lt;br /&gt;Z&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many siblings does A have?&lt;br /&gt;3. All sisters&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does B sms you about?&lt;br /&gt;Um... I don't have her number -.-"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is C's nickname?&lt;br /&gt;Charlene McCartney&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How did you get to know D?&lt;br /&gt;By being in the same class as her for 2 years, and going out with her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How despo is E?&lt;br /&gt;She is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so&lt;/span&gt; not despo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How much older/younger is F than you?&lt;br /&gt;I think she's 6 or 7 or 8 or 9 months younger..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Name 3 of G's best friends:&lt;br /&gt;Rachel, Ashleigh and Clapin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does H know I?&lt;br /&gt;Nah. One's an Australian farmgirl, the other's a Singaporean geek. What are the odds?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happens if J suddenly turned into your enemy?&lt;br /&gt;I'd be DEAD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Under what condition would K and L get married?&lt;br /&gt;If they were held at gunpoint by some triad gang, then yeah, they'll get married&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many people do you know with M's name?&lt;br /&gt;Just one or two. P/S: Her real name is actually Madelyn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you enjoy talking on the phone with N?&lt;br /&gt;Never talked to her on the phone before... &gt;.&lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you think O knows P?&lt;br /&gt;NO. One's a St. Mary's freak, and the other is PLC's Queen Bee. Nup, P ain't gonna lower herself to such standards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How geeky is Q?&lt;br /&gt;I don't know any Q people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is R very popular?&lt;br /&gt;People tolerate her, I guess&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happens if S likes you?&lt;br /&gt;Then I like her back! What else is a girl to do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is T a very random person?&lt;br /&gt;She's pretty bimbotic, and her behaviour can get kinda random&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How are U and V related?&lt;br /&gt;Ain't got a U friend, so ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you take W as anything else other than a friend?&lt;br /&gt;He came &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;this&lt;/span&gt; close to being a boyfriend, but then that would be unrealistic, seeing as how fugly he is. And before he came close to being attached to me, he was my Stalker :p&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When is the last time you met up with X?&lt;br /&gt;Last last wednesday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are Y and Z enemies?&lt;br /&gt;I don't have a Z friend, so can't answer this either&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of A to Z which one do you love the most?&lt;br /&gt;Okay. This is a hard decision, and I don't mean to hurt any feelings. But the one I love the most as a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;friend&lt;/span&gt; is... Maddi. The one I love as more than a friend.. well, I won't say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will you betray any of them?&lt;br /&gt;Yes *grins evilly*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you loved and confessed to anyone from A to Z?&lt;br /&gt;Well, I've loved one, and it's not the Stalker. I probably won't ever confess, seeing as she has a boyfriend. Yeah, that's it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right then. One quiz done. I hope that helped to lighten the mood of this blog :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-4437831964014296423?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/4437831964014296423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=4437831964014296423' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/4437831964014296423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/4437831964014296423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2007/01/name-name-of-one-of-your-friends.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-5891833029613315654</id><published>2007-01-17T18:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-17T18:22:56.344+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This is probably the '&lt;em&gt;deepest&lt;/em&gt;' post that I've ever churned out. In fact, I don't think you'll even understand it.. it's more like a personal rant. There will be names that you guys don't recognize, and the sentence structure is going to be totally wack. Anyway, try your best, and remember, you can always walk away from this blog. Here goes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't let nobody tell you your life is over, be every colour that you are- Aly and AJ" I don't think one can be truly original. I mean, I've changed myself drastically to fit in. New wardrobe, strange accent, my attitude... why am I even telling you this shit? My life is so fucked. Angie probably hates me for leaving her stranded. I am &lt;em&gt;so&lt;/em&gt; shallow. Look at it this way. A guy loves me, as in, &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; loves me. He loves the fake me, the one I created, the perfect me, the me I want to be. He loves that me, &lt;em&gt;really really&lt;/em&gt;  loves. And I don't want to tell him that I will soon never talk to him ever again because of Melbourne. This stupid moving, why do I want it so badly? Goodbye to Angela, John, Sav, Dude, Poet, Niz, Rain, Denv, Jason, Deth, Alex. My friends. The friends of my fake me. I am &lt;strong&gt;not&lt;/strong&gt; beautiful. I am &lt;strong&gt;ugly&lt;/strong&gt;- selfish, unkind, unfeeling. How will I break the news to them? I don't want to. Now leaving Perth seems like a horrible thing to do. All because of Angie and the rest. I &lt;em&gt;have&lt;/em&gt; to get over them. But I can't. It's impossible. Ya know what? I seriously don't see any point of blogging. It won't help anything. Lindsay Lohan isn't helping anything. Nothing will help, can help me now. My alternate life is an addiction. A dark one. What can I do? &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nothing&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. I just keep fabricating new lies, new interests, new things. Melbourne will be a new start. Who knows? Maybe I will come back in a few months and find all my friends gone. My life shattered. Will I be relieved? I think not...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angie and the gang will probably never ever see this, and they'll keep on living in their fantasy world, with the perfect, beautiful me. The kind, funny, bold me. And I'll just wilt and die, retreat further into myself with every passing day, curse the world, and ultimately just give up on Life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-5891833029613315654?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/5891833029613315654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=5891833029613315654' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/5891833029613315654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/5891833029613315654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2007/01/this-is-probably-deepest-post-that-ive.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-2504760874740159874</id><published>2006-12-30T19:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-30T20:07:55.120+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Here's a poem I wrote a while ago. Last last term, to be exact. But hey, just read it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;~The Butterfly's Passing~&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Skies so grey, forest so still&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I am alive, only by will&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;The day has come, my time to go&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;When I leave, no one will know&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I ask myself, "Why this way?"&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Even though the answer's clear as day&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;It is fate, Nature's law&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;For me to answer dear Death's call&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;My children safe, sheltered from harm&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Or so I hope, for I need calm&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;To gracefully accept that dark embrace&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Unsure for the continuity of my race&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Perched once more among green leaves&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;One last glimpse of Life's cruel deeds&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Give me this paradise, then snatch it away&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;What other than hate can breed this day?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Raindrops pouring from the heavens&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Mocking reminders of a future barren&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;No more experiencing the world's treasures&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Love, joy- priceless riches&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Trembling now, wings weakening&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Memories abundant, all unravelling&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Seeing events flash before my eyes&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Merely minutes before my demise&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Swaying in the breeze, falling downwards&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Hit the ground, deceiving softness&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Senses dulled, mind asunder&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Leaving this earth in a roar of thunder&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right. I'm going to my aunt's apartment now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip!&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/36928411-2504760874740159874?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/2504760874740159874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=2504760874740159874' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/2504760874740159874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/2504760874740159874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/12/heres-poem-i-wrote-while-ago.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-6497478554873003889</id><published>2006-12-26T23:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-30T19:52:29.272+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Whee!!! Another one!!! Oh, have you realised that I've left out the customary 'Toodle-pip' in the last two posts? No? So unobservant!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things about myself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your biggest fear?&lt;br /&gt;Death&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What makes you happy?&lt;br /&gt;People around me being happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You like...?&lt;br /&gt;Technology&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your favorite shampoo?&lt;br /&gt;Sunsilk, even though it's uneffective&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your favorite body soap?&lt;br /&gt;Palmolive Aromatherapy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You wish your eyes were...?&lt;br /&gt;Emerald green&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you a clean freak?&lt;br /&gt;Depends on my mood&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you cuss a lot?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;OF COURSE&lt;/span&gt;!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does your hair look like?&lt;br /&gt;Dry and screwed up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you burn CDs a lot?&lt;br /&gt;Nope. Only twice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your favorite, night or day?&lt;br /&gt;Night! Fun fun fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your favorite time of day?&lt;br /&gt;Dawn. But if you're saying time, it's 10am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your favorite time of night?&lt;br /&gt;Midnight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Been in love before?&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, and I don't regret it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you miss anyone right now?&lt;br /&gt;Most defenitely. ALL MA FRIENDS @ PLC, I MISS YOU GIRLS!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What annoys you?&lt;br /&gt;My brother, and dumb people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your favorite song?&lt;br /&gt;Right now, it's Too Little Too Late by JoJo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your favorite line from a song?&lt;br /&gt;"Leave me alone, get out of my face, I'm tired in love, feeling so misplaced."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your favorite quote?&lt;br /&gt;"Don't like my attitude? Call 1800-KISS-MY-ASS."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your favorite movie?&lt;br /&gt;Um... Mr and Mrs Smith! LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your favorite quote from a movie?&lt;br /&gt;"Into the sky, to live or die!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your favorite brand of clothing?&lt;br /&gt;Esprit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your favorite brand of shoes?&lt;br /&gt;No brand.. only type= Now into wedges&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you paint your fingernails?&lt;br /&gt;No nails to paint&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's a shitty movie you've seen lately?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ERAGON&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coke or Pepsi?&lt;br /&gt;Coke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love or lust?&lt;br /&gt;Hehe.. can I remain neutral on that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Widescreen or Fullscreen?&lt;br /&gt;Fullscreen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you get scared easily?&lt;br /&gt;Yep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you have any siblings?&lt;br /&gt;One 9-year-old pain-in-ma-ass&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are your mom and dad still together?&lt;br /&gt;Mmhmm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bath or shower?&lt;br /&gt;Hot bath wins hands down!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your favorite color?&lt;br /&gt;Orange, lavender, Stewart green, khaki and white.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What movie star do you think is beautiful (woman)?&lt;br /&gt;Keira Knightley&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What movie star do you think is hot (guy)?&lt;br /&gt;Channing Tatum&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you like candles?&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Random things&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perfect gift?&lt;br /&gt;L.O.V.E&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Favorite saying?&lt;br /&gt;Bite me, bitch...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What kinda car do you drive?&lt;br /&gt;Not old enough to own a real car, brainiac&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What color is your car?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;READ ABOVE... SHEESH&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where do you work?&lt;br /&gt;School.. it's as shitty as real work&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How old are you?&lt;br /&gt;12&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you have any animals?&lt;br /&gt;A rabbit, a chinchilla, a throughbred ex-racehorse, and a golden retriever (it's a dog, btw)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One word to describe you?&lt;br /&gt;Kooky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How tall are you?&lt;br /&gt;1.65m&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you have a cell phone?&lt;br /&gt;Duh, Fred&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch alot of TV?&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I guess... I watch MTV tons&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who is your best friend?&lt;br /&gt;I can't choose between my friends.. they're all great&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who do you miss right now?&lt;br /&gt;ALL MA FRIENDS @ PLC!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you bored?&lt;br /&gt;Duh, that's why I'm doing this!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you daydream a lot?&lt;br /&gt;Nah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you swim?&lt;br /&gt;As if.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your middle name?&lt;br /&gt;Wasn't given one.. though it'll probably be Nerd&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who was the last person to call you?&lt;br /&gt;Dione&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your favorite smell in the whole world?&lt;br /&gt;The boarding house smell :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many pillows do you sleep with?&lt;br /&gt;Two in my bed, one under my head. THAT RHYMED!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you shy?&lt;br /&gt;Depends who I'm with&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you regret anything?&lt;br /&gt;ALWAYS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you believe in love at first sight?&lt;br /&gt;I'm a firm believer in it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your religion?&lt;br /&gt;I don't have one???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you happy?&lt;br /&gt;Right now, not sure&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your name?&lt;br /&gt;Eugenia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Birthday?&lt;br /&gt;8 February 1994&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Finish this...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You had me from...&lt;br /&gt;... the start (something Stalker might say to me)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll...&lt;br /&gt;... whup your ass!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss...&lt;br /&gt;... ALL MA FRIENDS @ PLC!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your touch...&lt;br /&gt;... means nothing to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smell...&lt;br /&gt;... the crap in the atmosphere...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're very...&lt;br /&gt;... fucked up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alrighty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip!!!&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/36928411-6497478554873003889?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/6497478554873003889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=6497478554873003889' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/6497478554873003889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/6497478554873003889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/12/whee-another-one-oh-have-you-realised.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-7903389797590880518</id><published>2006-12-26T23:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-26T23:35:24.027+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" &gt;Okay. Here's a single word 'meme'. More fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Yourself: Pessimistic&lt;br /&gt;2. Your boyfriend/girlfriend: Nonexistant&lt;br /&gt;3. Your hair: Highlighted&lt;br /&gt;4. Your mother: Not-safe-to-tell-you-because-she-reads-my-blog&lt;br /&gt;5. Your Father: Weird&lt;br /&gt;6. Your Favorite Item: Earrings&lt;br /&gt;7. Your dream last night: Nonexistant&lt;br /&gt;8. Your Favorite drink: Lift&lt;br /&gt;9. Your Dream Car: BMW&lt;br /&gt;10. The room you are in: Fugly&lt;br /&gt;11. Your Ex: Gone&lt;br /&gt;12. Your fear: Death&lt;br /&gt;13. What you want to be in 10 years? Content&lt;br /&gt;14. Who you hung out with last night? Family&lt;br /&gt;15. What you're NOT: Honest&lt;br /&gt;16. Muffins: Alright&lt;br /&gt;17. One of Your Wish List Items: Friendship&lt;br /&gt;18. Time: Fast&lt;br /&gt;19. The Last Thing You Did: Typed&lt;br /&gt;20. What You Are Wearing: Clothes&lt;br /&gt;21. Your Favorite Weather: Rainy&lt;br /&gt;22. Your Favorite Book: Alot-of-em&lt;br /&gt;23. The Last Thing You Ate: Chips&lt;br /&gt;24. Your Life: Shit&lt;br /&gt;25. Your Mood: Shitty&lt;br /&gt;26. Your best friend: Around&lt;br /&gt;27. What are you thinking about right now? Posting&lt;br /&gt;28. Your car: Nonexistant&lt;br /&gt;29. What are you doing at the moment? Breathing&lt;br /&gt;30. Your summer: Refreshing&lt;br /&gt;31. Your relationship status: Single&lt;br /&gt;32. What is on your TV? CSI&lt;br /&gt;33. What is the weather like? Dunno&lt;br /&gt;34. When is the last time you belly-laughed? November&lt;br /&gt;35. Who do you tag? Friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gee, this is a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;great&lt;/span&gt; way to spend time. Love all of my friends *mwa mwa*... random... but I do love ya!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-7903389797590880518?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/7903389797590880518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=7903389797590880518' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/7903389797590880518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/7903389797590880518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/12/okay_26.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-6809452477365493116</id><published>2006-12-26T22:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-26T23:17:01.738+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;This is just stupid. I mean, I could be posting about my recent outings with 6SYians instead of doing 'memes'.. but hey, no big deal. Here's the first one:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" &gt;List 11 people randomly. 5 girls, 2 boys, 1 family member, 3 of your own choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Dione&lt;br /&gt;2. Drea&lt;br /&gt;3. Ju&lt;br /&gt;4. Amanda&lt;br /&gt;5. Maddi&lt;br /&gt;6. Arthur&lt;br /&gt;7. Sam&lt;br /&gt;8. Meldon&lt;br /&gt;9. Walter&lt;br /&gt;10. Cynthia&lt;br /&gt;11. Lynn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What would you do if you've never met 6 (Arthur)?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I would probably live life without the experience of having a boyfriend *blushes*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What would you do if 2 (Drea) and 6 (Arthur) were dating?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd be happy for them... I think&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Have you ever seen 4 (Amanda) cry?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never. Nup. Not at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Do you think 1 (Dione) is pretty?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DUH! She has the cutest face!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tell me something about 11 (Lynn).&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's funny, confident and a great friend :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How do you know 8 (Meldon)?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's my irritating little brother *grumble grumble*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What's 7's (Sam) favourite colour?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh no. I DON'T KNOW WHAT HER FAVE COLOUR IS!!! ARGH!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What would you do if 2 (Drea) confesses his/her love for you?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would probably just ask her if she's playin.. and if she says no, I'll beat some sense into her &gt;.&lt;  &lt;strong&gt;Fact about 9 (Walter).&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;crushing&lt;/span&gt; on him... Whoops! Did I just say that out loud?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Who is 6 (Arthur) going out with?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nobody at this point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Who is 5 (Maddi) to you?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is someone that I will &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;never&lt;/span&gt; forget... a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;great&lt;/span&gt; girl, and the most reliable person I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Would you ever live with 11 (Lynn)?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I would. Defenitely. Absolutement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Is 2 (Drea) single?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think so.. I mean, she hasn't given me any reason to think otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How much does 3 (Ju) mean to you?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's a funny, amusing girl. Yeah, funny and amusing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Who is 1 (Dione)?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend. One of the deepest people I know. Very wise in matters of friendship and has this quality that enables her to laugh after hardship&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What's the best thing about 8 (Meldon)?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forgiving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What do you dislike about 10 (Cynthia)?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her attitude, her... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt;. How she's racist... which falls under 'attitude'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Favourite memory with 6 (Arthur)?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Class&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Done. Yay. Hoorah.. I think you people better start deserting this redundant blog.&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/36928411-6809452477365493116?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/6809452477365493116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=6809452477365493116' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/6809452477365493116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/6809452477365493116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/12/this-is-just-stupid.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-1352059506599960349</id><published>2006-12-22T00:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-22T00:55:09.453+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay. Got bored, didn't want to post about anything else, so i did this 'meme'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LAYER ONE: ON THE OUTSIDE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Name: Eugenia Woo Yi Ting&lt;br /&gt;Birth date: 08/02/94&lt;br /&gt;Current status: Single.&lt;br /&gt;Eye colour: Black&lt;br /&gt;Hair colour: Black w/ reddish-brown highlights&lt;br /&gt;Righty or Lefty: Righty&lt;br /&gt;Zodiac Sign: Rooster&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LAYER TWO: ON THE INSIDE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your heritage: Chinese.&lt;br /&gt;Your fears: Dark (yes, i know its childish), public embarassment, Life&lt;br /&gt;Your weaknesses: Chocolate, chips, pencil cases&lt;br /&gt;Your perfect pizza: Seafood, with just a dusting of cheddar cheese&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LAYER THREE: YESTERDAY, TODAY, TOMORROW.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your thoughts first waking up: It's still early, I'm gonna go back to bed&lt;br /&gt;Half an hour later: Dunno, I'm still asleep...&lt;br /&gt;Your most missed memory: Not being self-concious&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LAYER FOUR: YOUR PICK.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pepsi or Coke: Coke, but only Light Coke&lt;br /&gt;McDonalds or Burger King: McDs... way better&lt;br /&gt;Single or group dates: Group&lt;br /&gt;Adidas or Nike: Currently obsessing over Adidas &gt;.&lt;&lt;br /&gt;Lipton tea or Nestea: Nestea!!!&lt;br /&gt;Chocolate or vanilla: Vanilla&lt;br /&gt;Cappuccino or coffee: Good 'ol coffee&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smoke: No&lt;br /&gt;Curse: Frequently&lt;br /&gt;Have a crush: Well... hehe :)&lt;br /&gt;Like(d) school: Yes, surprisingly&lt;br /&gt;Want to get married: Depends&lt;br /&gt;Believe in yourself: Not at all&lt;br /&gt;Think you're a health-freak: Never have and never will&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LAYER SIX: IN THE PAST MONTH.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drank alcohol: No&lt;br /&gt;Gone to the mall: DUH...&lt;br /&gt;Been on stage: Yeah, at Speech Night&lt;br /&gt;Eaten sushi: Countless times&lt;br /&gt;Dyed your hair: Got my hair &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;highlighted&lt;/span&gt;.. same thing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LAYER SEVEN: HAVE YOU EVER?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Played a stripping game: Well, I've played truth-or-dare that involved stripping...&lt;br /&gt;Changed who you were to fit in: Most defenitely. Done it countless times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LAYER EIGHT:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Age you're hoping to be married: Standard answer- above 20 and below 25.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LAYER NINE: IN A GIRL/GUY.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Best eye colour: Green, emerald green&lt;br /&gt;Best hair colour: Dark brown&lt;br /&gt;Short or long hair: Medium&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LAYER TEN: WHAT WERE YOU DOING.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 minute ago: Pretending to be asleep&lt;br /&gt;1 hour ago: Cursing my iPod's existence&lt;br /&gt;45 hours ago: IMing&lt;br /&gt;1 month ago: IMing in Perth&lt;br /&gt;1 year ago: Asleep.. I think&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LAYER ELEVEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel: weird&lt;br /&gt;I hate: Life, Life, and Life.&lt;br /&gt;I hide: my feelings, who I love, and who I really am.&lt;br /&gt;I miss: knowing what true friendship is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-1352059506599960349?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/1352059506599960349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=1352059506599960349' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/1352059506599960349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/1352059506599960349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/12/okay.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-6374328463308645738</id><published>2006-12-22T00:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-22T00:11:54.614+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yes, Maddi, thanks for the reminder to post :)    Yeah, and to all Windows (or IE users, I'm not sure yet) users, my blog is currently unviewable. Don't ask me why, but the HTML script just doesn't work. And I probably won't be changing the skin anytime soon, nya nya nya... K...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok. Major thing that happened today: &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I DIED MY HAIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  Well, I highlighted it...  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;same thing, lah!&lt;/span&gt; It's like, a reddish-brown shade, and I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; it!!! Yay!!! Yay!!! Yay!!! In case you wonder about the monosyllabic sentence structure, I'm currently being pestered by my asshole of a brother and my nagging mum.. fun... in fact, they shouldnt' even know my blog exists! Wadeva. I always end up cutting my posts short. I actually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;would&lt;/span&gt; have something to post about, but I've been &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;sworn to secrecy&lt;/span&gt;... hehehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-6374328463308645738?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/6374328463308645738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=6374328463308645738' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/6374328463308645738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/6374328463308645738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/12/yes-maddi-thanks-for-reminder-to-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-3762892377247260079</id><published>2006-12-14T21:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-14T22:24:39.197+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Right. There was supposed to be a post before this, but I skipped it totally to rant about the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;sheer absurdity&lt;/span&gt; and the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;fucked-up-ness&lt;/span&gt; of the Eragon movie. I will divide the negative points up into paragraphs. This is probably the most redundant post in the history of this blog and you don't have to read it, but I'm gonna write it anyway. Ok. Now I'm going to slam the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;screwed up &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;casting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Arya&lt;/span&gt;- Sienna Guillory&lt;br /&gt;WHAT THE HELL IS SIENNA GUILLORY DOING AS ARYA?! Seriously, the asshole in charge of casting must be fucking &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;colourblind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;!!! &lt;/span&gt;I take a direct quote from the book about Arya's elven beauty, "Her long &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;midnight-black&lt;/span&gt; hair obscured her face, despite a leather strip bound around her head to hold the tresses back. Her &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sculpted&lt;/span&gt; face was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;as perfect as a painting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;Her &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;round chin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;high cheekbones,&lt;/span&gt; and long eyelashes gave her an &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;exotic&lt;/span&gt; look." See how I've put some words in italics? Yeah, those are the qualities Sienna Guillory &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; have. Midnight-black hair?  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;DEFENITELY NOT, SHE'S A BLOODY REDHEAD FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Sculpted face? Look, Samsie has a more sculpted face than that fucking Sienna! &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Round chin, eh?&lt;/span&gt; This chick looks &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;anorexic&lt;/span&gt; for Chrissake!!! I don't even have to talk about &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;high cheekbones&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;exotic&lt;/span&gt; looks- Lil' Miss Guillory looks like your average whore-next-door!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. That was the only major problem in casting. Now, to rant about &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;HOW THEY MERCILESSLY SLICED OFF HALF OF THE PLOTLINE...&lt;/span&gt;    I really think they got the chronological order of events fucked up. I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;distinctly&lt;/span&gt; remember Brom dying way before they find Arya.. and how did Saphira grow from a mere pup to a full-grown monstrosity in like, a minute?! Ok. My impressive 'planned' rant is going to be cut short because my anger has dwindled in the course of this criticism. Over and out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P/S: Maddi, you're making a big mistake if you watch Eragon. It's &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nothing&lt;/span&gt; like the book!!!&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-3762892377247260079?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/3762892377247260079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=3762892377247260079' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/3762892377247260079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/3762892377247260079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/12/right.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-4931993569583675572</id><published>2006-12-12T21:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-15T14:42:43.707+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Wah... today was a weird day. I was like, on my laptop until 2 AM and then woke up at 10 AM. So fucking tired lah, so I went back to sleep until 11. Dreamt about cheese...&lt;--- missing prezcheddar &gt;.&lt; style="font-style: italic;"&gt;exactly&lt;/span&gt; 11.30, the new time that I was supposed to meet Ju at. Spent the whole car ride freaking out and playing Evanescence on my iPod. After like... &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;AGES&lt;/span&gt; I arrived at the hotel, then couldn't see Ju. I swear I had a panic attack right there and then -.-" Anyway, SMSed her and she came flying helter-skelter round the bend like a rabbit being injected with adrenaline. First thing she said was "Fatty!". How flattering... I guess old habits die hard. We walked in the direction of Heeren so I could collect my black skinnies from the Esprit there, striking up some mundane conversation along the way. Soon it drifted to her brother... &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;and i want to kill the asshole that started the rumour about me liking Jonathan!!!&lt;/span&gt; And then took an unexpected turn to 三吧. Ju was like "Oh, tell me all about her!!!" Of course, I obliged, and by the end of the venture Ju was convinced that she wanted to be best pals with Pinky. Just great. Aiyah, she can be friends with whoever takes her fancy, I don't care...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, back to the afternoon I spend with the Queen *snigger*. We walked to Heeren, the sales clerk said my jeans weren't here yet, so we walked &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;around&lt;/span&gt; the place and went to 37 Degrees... almost bought a bag from there. Came back down, strolled to Paragon and Ju was having caffeine cravings so stopped by at the Coffee Club. It was weird. They had waiters n' shit, so we sat down and ordered while laughing our heads off. I mean, you don't normally have two 12 year-olds sit themselves down in a restaurant/cafe and have waiters taking their orders. It was fucked up, in a good way. Had a latte each, then wanted to go to Cine (Cathay Cineleisure). We both didn't have a clue how to get to Cine so had to stop by this weird pharmacy shop and ask for directions. Oh yah, we almost got run down &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;twice&lt;/span&gt; on the way there... fucking motorists...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reached Cine and we started thinking of getting a present for Drea, then went to this Korean grocery store to get food. Queen bought 3 packets of this Maggi noodle-like crunchy stuff with troublesome seasoning, and I got a strawberry ice-cream stick and Pocari. Took the escalator up to Neoprints [right spelling?] and got the $11 ones. Didn't even know when the stupid thing was taking the pic so all of them were fucked up &gt;.&lt; Decorated them really weirdly, cut them up then went to this cute toy store with Mamegoma/Mamegamo... wadeva... Ju bought this tiny one that plays an annoying song when you press it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(This is getting boring..) Yeh, then we went to walk around to try and find a prezzie for Drea. Went to this little stall that sold canvas bags and Ju was like 'Ooh! I wanna get something for Pinky!" So I indulged her and we went a-hunting for pinkish things. I was thinking of getting her this white and pink bag that had Queen written on it, but Ju is Queen, so approval was not sanctioned. After a while we gave up, then decided to walk to Taka to look at all the expensive shit. Walked around, got hungry, ate Mos Burger, walked around somemore and discussed Pinky-ish affairs. Decided that she would like sparkly things, so Queen suggested we get sparkly pens from Kino. Went to Kino, found the stationary section and I ended up buying a pen, highlighter and something else 4 myself... totally forgot about Pinky. And the only reason I'm saying Pinky is because this computer I'm blogging on doesn't have a Chinese language thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After walking around Taka, we wanted to get Drea a bag from 37 Degrees in Heeren. So went &lt;em&gt;all&lt;/em&gt; the way to Heeren and to the store on the top floor. &lt;strong&gt;Again&lt;/strong&gt;, Ju was gonna get this pink tube dress from the shop for Pinky, but then said the fabric poor quality, so didn't get it. Looked at a white felt bag for Drea, but couldn't decide, so didn't get it. For the second time, bought somehting for myself- Sea green pencil case. Pathetic lah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok. Don't want to post anymore...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P/S: Happy birfday Pinky!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-4931993569583675572?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/4931993569583675572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=4931993569583675572' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/4931993569583675572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/4931993569583675572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/12/wah.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-7847653808841697734</id><published>2006-12-10T17:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-10T17:25:27.749+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yes... as Drea rightly pointed out, 4ever is over... (for me, at least) and it's time to post again!!! I am actually a bit bored of blogging now *yawns widely*... And yeah, guess what?! Hehehe... I bet you can't guess what I did like, on Monday or Tuesday or Wednesday. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;GUESS!!!&lt;/span&gt; Give up?  K...  wait for it, wait for it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I PIERCED MY EARS!!!!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-crickets chirp, music blares, but no speech-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-crickets still chirping, Sexy Back blares, no speech-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-crickets lost their voices, Chasing Cars blares, (someone say something about my ears, please)-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Maddi says "Oh. Wow. How great!" Her voice just positively &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;drips&lt;/span&gt; sarcasm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But why am I telling you this??? Not much point. Yeah, I pierced my ears =) &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Finally...&lt;/span&gt; I think I was like, the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;only&lt;/span&gt; Year 8 without pierced ears. Sad, eh? Okay, moving along... since no one cares...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have decided to have some form of handbook when it comes to the Year 8/9/10 guys in Perth. I'm no &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;boy expert&lt;/span&gt; or anything, but seriously, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;this handbook is for the good of society&lt;/span&gt;. I have submitted a beta version to some people, and they have approved =) Yes, here's a sample:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lowdown On The Guys- 8 Things You Need To Know About Them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. The Scotch boys aren't hideous, but they are fickle. Examples: Junkie, Teak, Michael...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Wesley &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;boarders&lt;/span&gt; are fugly (I know from personal experience *shudder*), but the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;day boys&lt;/span&gt; are &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SMOKING HOT!!!&lt;/span&gt; Ok, maybe not.. but they are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;much&lt;/span&gt; better looking then the boarders.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Guildford guys are pretty nice (appearance-wise, naturally), with the exception of the Asian guys &lt;-- racism???    LOL... Anyway, yes, there is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1&lt;/span&gt; alright/more-than-alright looking Oriental dude, but... he's virtually untouchable, so, yeah... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;NO HOPE!!! Mwa ha ha&lt;/span&gt;...Wadeva&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Wesley has a reputation for churning out stalkers, as far as I'm concerned... It's happened to other people too, I mean it!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Scotch boys have a varied love-life... it could be St. Hilda's on Monday, Perth College on Tuesday, PLC on Wednesday, St. Mary's on Thursday, Santa Maria on Friday, Iona on Saturday, Mercedes on Sunday... you get the picture, right? Don't &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;EVER&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;assume you're the only girl in a guy's life, btw... &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;big mistake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. When a Scotchie dumps you, get over it quick and obsess over a hot guy from Guildford. Won't be hard to pick one. It's great therapy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Always pick the hottest guy if you're in his league, no point in holding back... of course, that doesn't apply with Wesley, there isn't any guy there that could be classified as hot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Don't  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really  &lt;/span&gt;go out with a Guildford dude, just &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;get his number, call him, and tell your friends that &lt;/span&gt;you're going out. That kinda helps, in a weird way...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok. Excerpt taken from page 10 of the Handbook. Lots of these solutions to problems listed above have been tried and tested by the people in my corridor back @ PLC Perth. It is your new mantra; chant it everyday, absorb the positive powers it gives to your chi... haha XD    But my word isn't law, it's just the favourable way out. Take it as you will. And now I can't post because I can't be fucked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;P/S: I'm watching Eragon on Wednesday!!! Nya nya nya nya, Maddi!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&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 style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-7847653808841697734?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/7847653808841697734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=7847653808841697734' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/7847653808841697734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/7847653808841697734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/12/yes.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-6374856487488343237</id><published>2006-12-04T23:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-04T23:37:01.241+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hi guys!!! Wow, it seems like &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;forever&lt;/span&gt; since I laid hands on a laptop, fucking &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;forever&lt;/span&gt;. Yes, I can post now, THANK GOD... Ok. Firstly, I want to say sorry for the 'Alex' paragraph of my last post. I was just in a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;'rant madly about hot, mean guys'&lt;/span&gt; mood, so ignore it 'coz it's utterly redundant. Secondly, ummm... what &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt; I going to say?! Nevamind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I have lost inspiration for my post. Dumb right? Well, the inspiration might start again in like, 3 hours so wait up for me, k?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-6374856487488343237?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/6374856487488343237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=6374856487488343237' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/6374856487488343237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/6374856487488343237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/12/hi-guys-wow-it-seems-like-forever-since.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-2158100588523105701</id><published>2006-11-27T18:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-27T21:35:07.436+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yeh. Like I said before, I'll tell you &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;all&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; about the social @ Guildford. You have to understand, my opinions are mine alone, and I will not impose them on anyone else, so Guildford boys, don't get a big ego =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right. Sunday morning came and went, and it was around 10 AM that I actually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;remembered&lt;/span&gt; that I had the Guildford thing on. Needless to say I panicked, because I couldn't actually swim that day [not because I couldn't, just because I had um... *ahem* other more &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;personal&lt;/span&gt; reasons]. So I go and ask Mrs Adams, the old hag at the reception, if I can miss out on this, and she goes and gives me some bullshit about 'making commitments and sticking to them'. I was like "GIVE ME A BREAK! IT'S A FUCKING &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;POOL PARTY&lt;/span&gt; AND IF I CAN'T FUCKING SWIM TODAY WHAT'S THE FUCKING POINT OF GOING?!" I was like, seriously desperate &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; to go coz I had English oral to prepare for and like, I couldn't swim that day, so I'd be wasting 5 hours of my life at Guildford. Unfortunately, all the 8s &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;had&lt;/span&gt; to go no matter what so I tugged on my silver skinnies, a shirt and my skull shoes before trudging out the door. Some Year 9s came along to, and the ride to the school was fun, with everyone singing random songs and the passersby staring at us *teehee*... I forgot to mention one thing: Guildford's like, virtually in the middle of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;nowhere&lt;/span&gt;, way out near Swan Valley, so it took practically 2 hours to get there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we got to the school, and it looked a bit like a country estate in the rolling hills of Ireland; all brick and ivy.. very quaint. But &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;some&lt;/span&gt; people *stares at 三吧* don't appreciate such beauty. She was like "OMG, this is like, the ugliest fucking school I've ever been to! Blah blah &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;blah.&lt;/span&gt;" Ok, it's not all about her today [phew!]... So we're driving past this bee-you-tee-full old chapel thing, and then TA-DAAH, there's the boarding house. At first we were all appalled by the state of the poor building.. it looked &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;centuries&lt;/span&gt; old, and the pool was fucking small. Then we got closer and scoped up the guys... spending 5 hours there didn't seem so bad after all *hehehe* The first guy I noticed was this small-built Thai dude who was the unofficial DJ for the social. He played the weirdest songs... and he wasn't exactly eye candy. Then there was this other dude, who was like, his brother or something, and he was fucking &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;tall!!!&lt;/span&gt; The genes got mucked up somewhere, aye? Anyway, he's not important. I was eyeing this guy with dark brown 'surfer' style hair. He had very chiselled features, like... wow! I could spent a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;whole&lt;/span&gt; night dreaming about him, and 三吧 did too. His name is Alex, and he is a total &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dreamboat&lt;/span&gt;... Older guys always look better than those in your year... Oh whatever, I can't be bothered posting anymore -)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-2158100588523105701?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/2158100588523105701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=2158100588523105701' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/2158100588523105701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/2158100588523105701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/11/yeh.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-6943790362920214814</id><published>2006-11-24T21:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-26T20:04:07.054+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Finally... &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;THE PHOTO POST IS HERE!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Yes, I'm not playin' with ya, it's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;actually&lt;/span&gt; here!!! I won't bother with an introductory paragraph, but these pics will show the key players in the social hierachy of the Year 8 Boarders (and some other people). Enjoy =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7067/4507/1600/258033/CIMG0112.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7067/4507/320/479002/CIMG0112.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Samsara (Year 10), otherwise known as the 'girl, Sam' due to the existence of a male abomination of the same name *grrrr* Yes, here she is with her &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;first ever cake!&lt;/span&gt; Well, her first ever self-baked cake. Congratulations, darl!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7067/4507/1600/100876/CIMG0170.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7067/4507/320/676326/CIMG0170.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alrighty... guess who this is? [I can see the cogs whirring in your brains, analysing, thinking] It's &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;三吧!!!&lt;/span&gt; Mmhmm, the smile, the pose, the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;thin-ness&lt;/span&gt; of her bod... it's gotta be her! And yes, the stories are true, hehehe... Do you think she's pretty? She's like the Queen Bee (more like the Queen Bee-I-T-C-H). She is also allegedly bisexual O.O&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7067/4507/1600/830239/CIMG0169.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7067/4507/320/444535/CIMG0169.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maddi and Nikki, the funniest and most retarded (in that order, lol) girls in Year 8. Seriously, you have to see those two in action. This pic is a classic 'blonde' moment. The brunette points to the right going "Oh, look at that!" The &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;blonde&lt;/span&gt; points to the left going "Where?!" U probably didn't get the joke, but they're hilarious anyway!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7067/4507/1600/295022/CIMG0171.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7067/4507/320/470558/CIMG0171.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meet Angela Egerton-Warbuton [right spelling?]&lt;br /&gt;Ballerina *cough cough*, aspiring beauty queen and resident crybaby. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AND&lt;/span&gt; she's my roomie. I have the Queen Bitch and Crybaby in my room.... how much worse can life get? She's not that bad, I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7067/4507/1600/284495/CIMG0172.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7067/4507/320/54367/CIMG0172.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Terrific Trio... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;NOT!&lt;/span&gt; These girls are aspiring to be a part of 三吧's posse, and she's doing a good job of being a schizophrenic freak: telling them she's their friend, then &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;backstabbing&lt;/span&gt; them. Wow. Life is so kool here *ewwww*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was the last of them -.-" Thank God!!! All that ugliness [except for Sam and Maddi, of course] was making me sick to the stomach. Aiyah, I'm on the phone w/ Liyan so I can't be fucked typing :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-6943790362920214814?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/6943790362920214814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=6943790362920214814' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/6943790362920214814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/6943790362920214814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/11/finally.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-4437135037716640173</id><published>2006-11-23T16:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-23T20:58:47.853+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hai... none of the people I wanted pics of where in the boarding house today... Anyway, congratulations to all my 6SYians for the fantabulous stupendous fan-fucking-tastic PSLE results :)   Keep it up, darlings!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-4437135037716640173?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/4437135037716640173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=4437135037716640173' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/4437135037716640173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/4437135037716640173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/11/hai.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-146234517800021847</id><published>2006-11-22T10:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-22T10:13:38.118+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sorry about the last post's font... -.-" I tried to make it darker, but all the shades didn't match.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, right. Maths class, (which should be marked as Playtime on my timetable) is boring me half to death. We're working on oblique, orthagonal and isometric drawings, which are basically fancy names for 3D shapes. How pointless. I found my camera yesterday, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;YAY!!!&lt;/span&gt; It was lurking around under my bed *glares at the -&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;theif&lt;/span&gt;-* Which means I can upload pics again. I'll do that after school, pinky swear =) Now I'm off to edit my Facebox or Bebo profile, just 'coz I feel like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-146234517800021847?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/146234517800021847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=146234517800021847' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/146234517800021847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/146234517800021847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/11/sorry-about-last-posts-font.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-7819337861704809156</id><published>2006-11-20T22:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-12T22:16:07.283+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Right. Just to clarify a few things for &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;some&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;1)My brother is 9 years old.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;2)I am in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-style: italic;"&gt;Boarding School&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; in Perth, which must mean my parents are home in Singapore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;3)If my parents are in Singapore, how can I be uncaring by studying in Perth with my parents and leaving my brother all alone back home?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Yeah, this is pretty pointless info to most of you, but for a certain spammer [or tracker, wadeva she wants to call herself], please note this down before you base your insults on untruths.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Okay, got&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; out of the way... This is probably the latest that I've ever posted. I mean, it's almost 11 PM now...I'm gonna be &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-style: italic;"&gt;sooooooooo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; tired 2morrow, and I have fucking choir at 7.30 AM. Talk about unlucky. In case you're wondering &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;where&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; I'm posting from, I'll let you guess, like listening comprehension MCQ, k?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Question: Where is Eugenia blogging from?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;a)In her bedroom, at her desk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;b)In her bedroom, on the floor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;c)In her bedroom, under the covers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;d)In her bedroom, surrounded by snoring roomates, pissed off at the air-con, and under the covers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Unless you're some kind of retard, you would obviously know that Option D is the answer. I mean, it was the longest, and the most comprehensive... Enough analysis. Yep, you sussed it. I'm blogging in my bedroom, surrounded by snoring roomates, pissed off at the air-con, and under the covers. How uncomfortable, I mean, seriously, typing while you're literally &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-style: italic;"&gt;suffocating&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; in the heat is quite detrimental to one's health... But it's a one-off thing (I hope..), I just had &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;no&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; time to post in the afternoon. But then again, I ask myself "Do I have anything to post about?!" The answer now is "YES!!!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;I went out with my aunt on Saturday (quite reluctantly, I must add), preparing myself for a mind-numbingly boring weekend. Instead, I go out shopping on Sunday at Harbourtown, and guess who I meet? Miss Goh, 6P's form teacher! Our conversation was a bit like this:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Me: Miss Goh?! What the hell are you doing here?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;MG: I'm accompanying the dance group girls...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Me: OMG *squeals in delight*!!! Where are they?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;MG: They're scattered all over the place... but we're meeting outside Subway at 2.45...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Me: OK, thanks &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-style: italic;"&gt;sooooo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; much! I'll be there!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Yeah, am I lucky or what??? I mean, I got to see Debbie, Amanda Teo, Celine and Ianna!!! My fab 6SYian dancers... I'm already missing them. I walked up behind Debbie and was like "Hey Debbie" in this like, monotone, and she turns around and near knocks me off my feet with the force of her hug. She was squeezing all my blubber off!!! And the first thing she said was "You've lost so much weight!" or something along the lines of that. Of course, me being Miss Modesty, politely said "Nah, I haven't." I spent the next ten minutes reuniting and hugging all my lil' dancing pals, chatting and doing stuff like that... Okay, I can't bear to write about this anymore, it just wrenches at my heart to know that I will hardly be seeing any of them the next holiday since they're going &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;overseas...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Yes, this seems totally inappropriate to the subject, but I have this burning desire to tell you what I bought at the shops =) K. First stop for me was JayJays, where me and my cuz (her name's Tracy), or mainly my cuz picked out these really cute tops that I fell &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-style: italic;"&gt;head over heels&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; in love with. There was these two black ones with a Rock (no, not the stone type of 'rock') theme, this cute one with a monkey on it that says "I didn't do anything, it was my evil twin" or something along those lines. Basically, I got some nice tops there, and a pair of closed-toe skull-and-crossbones patterned shoes. Closed-toe skull-and-crossbones patterned shoes. I mean, my feet are normally a size 11, and I certainly can't just normally walk into something like JayJays and grab a pair from behind the counter. I seriously couldn't believe my good luck! So, after paying for the goods, we went to Betts, which was where I found a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;second pair of SIZE 10&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; shoes!!! How frickin' amazing is that?! I seriously think my feet are shrinking... Anyway, these were blue denim ones, which I am soo gonna wear in Singapore to go walking around with... they are &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;so comfy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; No, wait, scratch that thought. I'm gonna wear the skull ones in S'pore. That's (Betts) where I met Miss Goh, btw. If my memory serves me well, the next shop was Esprit, where I tried on three tops and only bought one: a pink one. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PINK!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; In case you didn't know, I actually used to hate the colour pink, and now it's like, I'm buying pink shirts! How freaked out is that? Mmhmm, it's way screwy. By then it was like, 2.40, so I went to find the SCGS girls, and after a good fifteen minutes, I went to find my cuz, who was in Diana Ferrari (?), trying on shoes. She told me she wanted to find me a 'feminine' pair of shoes. So I was lik "Riiight, good luck with that!" And she totally &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;floored&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; me with this snazzy lil' blue pair. I was still a bit sceptical, but they were adorable, so i bought them. Yeah, and I'm wearing the blue ones, my grey skinnies, and the monkey top to the airport (hehe, i'm thinking so far ahead). All planned out...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;This is like, what I'm gonna be saying every time I get to a certain point in the post: I have nothing else to write about.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-7819337861704809156?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/7819337861704809156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=7819337861704809156' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/7819337861704809156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/7819337861704809156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/11/right.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-2444119679440657257</id><published>2006-11-19T10:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-19T11:26:18.210+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>You were my sun, you were my earth. But you didn't know all the ways that I loved you, no. So you took a chance, and made other plans. Betcha didn't think that they would come crashing down, no... You don't have to say, what you did, I already know, I found out from him. Now there's just no chance, that you and me, will ever be, and don't that make you sad about it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry about that. For those ignorant individuals out there, those are lyrics from Cry Me A River- Justin Timberlake. I won't bother with a detailed analogy of the song, so go look up the lyrics and make sense of them in your own time, and they're on this post 'coz... I was listening to the song, so there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, back to the Stalker problem. I thought I got him off my back like, days ago, but now I feel guilty. And it is &lt;strong&gt;not&lt;/strong&gt; a good feeling. You know, I never actually even &lt;em&gt;wanted&lt;/em&gt; to talk to him at the social, but I needed to look like I actually &lt;em&gt;knew&lt;/em&gt; someone, so it was a last resort. I thought that it was the same situation for him, and that we would just like, go back to our own two groups and never talk again. But it went a bit further than that... and I am &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;killing&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; myself over this, I seriously am. On good days, I ask myself ,wait a minute, why am I obsessing over the possibility of hurting this fugly dude's feelings, I mean, he's not even worth it. On bad days, my friends say "Give him a chance, come on, he can't be that bad." That's just the problem. He &lt;strong&gt;is&lt;/strong&gt; that bad. And now I have my &lt;strong&gt;mum&lt;/strong&gt; lecturing me on how to deal with him. &lt;em&gt;HOW SAD IS THAT?!&lt;/em&gt; She shouldn't even have anything to do with the bloke!!! And she thinks that I should stop giving him false hope... what false hope??? &lt;strong&gt;I WANT OUT OF THIS MESS!&lt;/strong&gt; My ending at PLC Perth is going to be a big bang...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, only 2 weeks left and I'm &lt;strong&gt;home free&lt;/strong&gt;!!! I can't wait to go home, I really can't wait! It's going to be &lt;strong&gt;2 whole months of horseriding, tennis, shopping, eating normal food and reunions&lt;/strong&gt;!!! I am so looking forward to seeing my 6SYians, love you all to bits! Yes, even the BAA girls...lol... You know, me and Liyan spent like, a whole year trying to bring you down :) *fond memories*, and you guys never actually gave up. I was just on MSN with Nicky-Baa's mum, and she was telling me how my goading was like, reverse psychology, and how you Baas reached greater heights through the torment I dished out. I now really regret not just leaving you alone and letting your legacy die down to ashes... curses!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry peeps [Fann's influence], I am suffering from Blogger's block, so I will have a shower and you can meet me on MSN in a bit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-2444119679440657257?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/2444119679440657257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=2444119679440657257' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/2444119679440657257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/2444119679440657257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/11/you-were-my-sun-you-were-my-earth.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-5442040828802814842</id><published>2006-11-18T17:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-18T18:05:06.851+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dear Diary,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mood: Apathetic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life is spiraling downwards... Okay, that was weird. I'm not really emo *shudder*. But then again, why &lt;em&gt;shouldn't&lt;/em&gt; I be emo? I quote Viv "At least they stick up for their friends". Whether that's true, I have no fucking idea, but hey, I'll just trust her on this one. I was going to post in the boarding house and all, but I just couldn't be stuffed, so I'm currently slaving over this at my guardian's. Yay. Hooray. Joy. Somehow the appeal of blogging is wilting and dying. Some days I just lie there staring at the ceiling, asking myself "What am I doing? What is the point of this?" Without fail, this little part of my diminished conscience will reply "You are staring at the ceiling, asking yourself what you are doing and what is the point of doing what you are doing." Just around &lt;strong&gt;that&lt;/strong&gt; moment, I slap my head with all the strength I can muster, effectively diverting my thoughts to how much my head hurts. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;What a smart plan...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway... I had this Philosophy session on Friday. For those dumbasses that don't know about this Philosophy extension program I'm in, today is your day of enlightment. Sarah Cole, Bonnie, Kai Ling, if you read this and you are offended, feel free to flame me :) Basically, we are currently in the midst of watching this TV series called 'Sophie's World'. I shall give you a '&lt;strong&gt;brief&lt;/strong&gt;' overview of the show so far. Right. It's about this girl called Sophie &lt;em&gt;Amundsen(?)&lt;/em&gt; who's in Norway. She's got this red-haired skank for a best friend, which is just weird, and has a Harry Potter lookalike lusting after her. She has such a perfect life... K, sarcasm aside, she starts receiving mysterious letters in the mail with questions like "Who am I?" and other philosophical pieces of info. Naturally, being the inquisitive 15-year-old that she is, she investigates and learns about this psycho dude called Alberto Knox, who's Norway's answer to the Nutty Professor. The duo embark on a fantastical [not fantastic, merely quite unbelievable] journey through time, tracking the influential people of each era. I'm &lt;strong&gt;extremely&lt;/strong&gt; surprised that this girl actually retains her sanity throughout this chapter of her 'ickle life. I mean, with paranormal encounters of the freaky variety and wandering through spooky forests and almost catching the Black Plague without getting herself admitted into Woodbridge is quite an achievement for a teenager. *polite applause resounds in the empty room* Ok, back to the story. There's this girl called Hilde something-Knag whose presents and cards keep turning up in Sophie's mailbox. Since we learnt about &lt;em&gt;eternal forms&lt;/em&gt; in the video, I made the connection that Sophie, since Hilde was never physically tangible/visible, was Hilde's eternal form, as such. Then, the next episode, which I had the torture of sitting through on Friday, totally screwed my analysis, or furthered it. The thing is, at the end of Friday's episode, they showed Hilde as a real person, clutching this book her father [the Major] wrote for her. Guess what the name of the book is? &lt;strong&gt;SOPHIE'S WORLD&lt;/strong&gt;. Surprise, surprise!!! So, I can now confidentally say (based on my own superior knowledge, lol) that Sophie is not real. She is merely a character in a book, every living moment of her 'life' directed by the Major. As you have probably figured out, once the book ends, the characters are no more, which means Sophie's death is inevitable. However, that stupid little asshole just won't give up, and she proposes to Alberto the idea of '&lt;em&gt;tricking&lt;/em&gt;' the Major. How can she trick him when he made her up and can't converse with her?! Norwegians.... Yeah, anyway, the episode ended there, leaving me literally &lt;strong&gt;buzzing&lt;/strong&gt; with questions. I was selling my 'Sophie doesn't exist' idea to Kai Ling, and she was like "NO..... Hilde doesn't exist, bla bla bla bla [I forgot everything else she said -.-"] Yeah, anyway, only the PLC girls would understand my aggravation, so I won't explain the concept today. So, Kai Ling... explain your thinking to me in layman's terms please, I really don't comprehend your intellect&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeh. That's enough posting for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P/S: Lynn, tag me when your done :$     I know I'm annoying, but I really wanna see your answers *teehee*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-5442040828802814842?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/5442040828802814842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=5442040828802814842' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/5442040828802814842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/5442040828802814842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/11/dear-diary-mood-apathetic-my-life-is.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-1635816679934866805</id><published>2006-11-17T13:52:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-17T13:52:16.167+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Alright. Due to the overwhelming demand... well, Drea's demand for more posts, I shall concede and adhere to your requests. This is the first time I'm posting in English, 'coz it's normally near impossible to do so under the watchful eye of the teachers. I'm running a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;huge&lt;/span&gt; risk here, so be thankful that I'm even writing a post. Okay, enough admonishments. P/S: Mum, I'm writing a post in English because there is nothing else to do. Yes, there are no more major assignments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right. Sorry about that last sentence, I just had this vision of my mum going "Aiyah... I told you so many times not to leave your assignments to the last minute! And here you are wasting your time blogging!" So to avoid that happening, I had to have some sort of reassurance for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you guys seen Di's post where she had like, all the 6SYians' names on it and she put down nice stuff about 'em? I want to do one like that, but for some girls in Perth too... And in case you didn't know, I'm moving to Melbourne next year. No, not my whole family (I kinda told the day girls that my whole family was going -.-"), just me. And I'll be boarding again! &lt;-- slightly more enthusiastic. But I will &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;sooooooooo&lt;/span&gt; miss Maddi, Lynn, Gigi, Fizz, Soph, Nikki and Anz... *starts sobbing quietly to myself*. Yes, it's an emotional seperation, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;but not as tearful as when I had to bid all you 6SYians goodbye...&lt;/span&gt; "I'm not afraid to cry!"- quote FitzChivalry of the Liveship Traders Trilogy by Robin Hobb. Mmhmm... So I guess I will give you the boarding house's address in Melbourne so you guys can write to me lol...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Eugenia Woo, Yr 9&lt;br /&gt;PLC Boarding House&lt;br /&gt;141 Burwood Highway&lt;br /&gt;Burwood, Victoria, 3125&lt;br /&gt;AUSTRALIA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember to put my name on the envelope too, k? And &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;extremely belated&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;well-wishes to Eyesore (Felicia Poh, hehe) and Twin Carrot (Number 1? It's Carolyn, by the way) for being the first and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;last&lt;/span&gt; *glares pointedly at the other SCGS girls* to send me a letter in like, the first week... Remember, girls, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE...&lt;/span&gt; mwa ha ha ha ha ha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, now I don't know what to write about.... Hmmm, let's see. I slept at like, 1 AM in the morning because I stayed up on MSN [Drea and Janie are witnesses, even though they logged off around 10] and just couldn't sleep. Since my sleeping routines are so fucked up, my body compensated by making me oversleep til 7 AM. I wouldn't have waken up if Maddi hadn't yanked open my curtain and hissed "GET UP!!! We have choir!!!" loudly at me. Cursing and swearing, I tumbled out of bed and yanked my uniform on within 4 minutes [new record, by the way], almost falling headlong down the stairs on the way to brekkie. Still half-asleep, I downed a glass of guava/orange juice and staggered back up to my room to start 'clean up' because today was &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Orientation Day!!!&lt;/span&gt; Don't you just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; Orientation Day? I mean, all the nosy, stuck-up new girls and their designer clothes, inching around and pushing you out of line... seriously, who wouldn't like that??? &lt;-- again, for all you numbskulls out there, that was sarcasm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look, here's a shocker, as I just found out... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;There are no Asian new girls!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; OMG!!! It's like, well, it &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;must&lt;/span&gt; be the first year with such a tragedy. Anyway, I can't be bothered talking about racial injustice so I will ignore this blight for now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah! I want to write about the failings of my 9 year old, egonistic brother!!! Listen, he's in P3 now, and he got into the 2nd round of GEP. Kool, right? So, I started to rethink my 'brother's-a-useless-asshole' theory. Fortunately, he proved my earlier assumptions right, attaining the gloriously &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;low&lt;/span&gt; grade of Band 2 for like, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;all&lt;/span&gt; his subjects in school! Hoorah!!! It shows how watered-down the intelligence in my genes is. By the way, it's now 1.42 PM and I'm still going on this post. I'm like, so proud at how &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fast&lt;/span&gt; I work. Yeah, so this paragraph was basically like, my supressed outrage at the stupidity of the younger generation. All that possess younger siblings and agree that they should be humanely euthanized, raise your hand! I know my hand's raised....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, I can't be stuffed writing anymore.... adios!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-1635816679934866805?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/1635816679934866805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=1635816679934866805' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/1635816679934866805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/1635816679934866805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/11/alright.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-2722259933648922720</id><published>2006-11-16T17:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-16T19:28:56.465+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Wah, so long since I last posted. Let's see.... I last posted on, um, yeah, Tuesday. That's like...&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2 days ago!!!&lt;/span&gt; Actually, come to think of it, it's actually not that long ago. I screwed up &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;big time&lt;/span&gt; last night with the Stalker, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;big time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. 三吧 was pestering me in that fucking annoying voice of hers like so "So, Eugenia, is he hot? No? Ewww.... I feel so sorry for you. Yeah, can I get his number? I want him to send me a picture of him!" I was like "Argh! Shut up, woman! Jesus Christ, can't you refrain from talking about boys and sex for &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;one bloody second?!&lt;/span&gt;" Anyway, since I was feeling extra, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;extra&lt;/span&gt; tired and I couldn't care less, I texted him to call, then handed the phone over to 三吧. The first thing that came out from her filthy mouth was "Hi, I'm ... [real name disclosed for personal reasons]. I'm Eugenia's friend at PLC and I want to ask you if you like her." I'm like, kicking myself for letting her have the phone. I mean, what a way to tell a guy you're a kay-poh ji... Anyway, he starts going like "WTF? Who the fuck are you? Put Eugenia on the phone!" Like, basically losing his marbles. So what does the biatch do? Wait for it, you'd &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;never&lt;/span&gt; guess this one was coming... she asks him &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;again&lt;/span&gt; if he likes me! I'm about ready to slap her across the face now, as you can see. Finally 三吧 relents and passes the mobile to me. Panicked, I hang up on him and turn off the phone, having had enough of the Stalker and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; annoying chit-chatter. 三吧 keeps on babbling about the Stalker until 1 AM in the morning and I was like, fast asleep. I only knew she was up so late because my other roomie told me  -.-"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I want to do another quiz =) Again, it's courtesy of Charis *claps politely*, the most splendiforous gurl in the world (after me, of course)! Lol... anyway, yeah, here it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;To start: 1) Put your music player on shuffle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;                  2) Press forward for each question&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;                  3) Use the song title as the answer for your question, even if it doesn't                                make sense&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;                  4) Tag 5 other people&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;                  5) Bold the questions and the the answers and give your own comments&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How are you feeling today?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Green Leaves of Spring- Bandari&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay... it may be spring, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;BUT WHAT HAS THAT GOT TO DO WITH HOW I'M FEELING?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Will you get far in life?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dreams Come True- The Saddle Club&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that my dreams will come true. Is getting what you wish for classified as getting far in life? I hope so &gt;.&lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How do your friends see you?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What If- Coldplay&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interesting. I suppose since the 'if' is like, a question, people think I'm an enigma? What bullshit...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Will you get married?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;City Lights- JoJo&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um... I'll get married in the city??? No clue at all. Charis, this quiz is fucked up! :S&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What is your best friend's theme song?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mirror Mirror- M2M&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, all my friends seem very contented with life, unlike the theme of the song. Who IS my best friend?&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What is the story of your life?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Perhaps- Doris Day&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yikes! I'm not trying to get some guy to love me!!! And I'm &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;certainly&lt;/span&gt; not jazz... icky!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What was primary school like?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Music- Madonna&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess you could describe it as a score of music, with high points (crescendo) and low ones (diminuendo), some days that are stamped into your mind (tenuto)... those times that go by so slowly (largo), then the moments that whizz by (accelerando). The irritating buzzing of nagging teachers (staccato), and the sleepy mind-numbing drone of 林老师 (legato). Okay, enough music terminology...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How will you get on with life?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Car Wash- Christina Aguilera Feat. Missy Elliott&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I DON'T WANT TO WORK AT CALTEX FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What is the best thing about your friends?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;My Happy Ending- Avril Lavigne&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, all our quarrels had happy endings... maybe this quiz isn't as screwy as I thought&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What is in store for this weekend?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;A Girl Like Me- Rihanna&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Riiight, I'm going to meet a girl like me this weekend? Highly unlikely. I'm unique :) But then again, I could have been cloned...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What song describes you?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Shiver- Coldplay&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I'm not a spastic freak that has shivering/shuddering fits every 5 seconds... the word 'shiver' must have a deeper meaning, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;To describe your grandparents?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Obsession- Frankie J&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yup, she's obsessed with herself, being the egonistic selfish airheaded wrinkly prune she is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How is your life going?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Without You- Mariah Carey&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, if the 'You' is my parents, then yeah, my life in Perth is currently Without You. Get it? Ok, that was lame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How does the world see you?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Perfect- Simple Plan&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, some people come up to me and say "Oh, you're sooo smart, I would give &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anything&lt;/span&gt; to have your brains" and they think Life's a bed of frickin' roses just because I have a functioning brain, unlike them. Yeah, people do see my as perfect, an emotionless cold statue of icy perfection, like an ice cube! T.T     Somehow I'm not flattered when they say so...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Will you have a happy life?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;It's Not Just Make Believe- Kari Kimmel&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh huh, I guess a happy life isn't just a myth, which means I will have one too! I know, my assumptions are so juvenile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What does your friend really think of you?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Work It Out- Beyonce&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I guess I should try to find out what my friends think of me... lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do people secretly lust after you?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Why Not- Hilary Duff&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my iPod thinks people have no reason &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; to lust after me? I'm flattered...&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How can I make myself happy?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What Makes You Different (Makes You Beautiful)- Backstreet Boys&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I should be myself, and in turn, make myself happier? Sounds like a good plan, if you're not in a hierachy where if you don't fake an interest in shagging boys, you aren't considered beautiful or popular. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;IT'S A BIT HARD, AS YOU CAN SEE!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What should you do with your life?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mockingbird- Eminem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;I guess I'll have a traumatised kid and be letting my husband raise her while I'm in jail over doing drugs. That's what the song's about anyway... and yeah, I'd marry a failed rapper who's songs revolve around the latest 'ho he's 'doing' and how emo his fans are. I am going to be one screwed up mother...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Will you ever have children?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Adagio- Secret Garden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does that mean I'll have them adagio? As in... slowly? I'm having weird thoughts now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, that's the last I'll ever see of that quiz... it really freaked me &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;big time&lt;/span&gt;. Did the answers make any sense to you??? And just to piss everyone off, I'm gonna tag 5 people: the 5 Chosen Ones, to do this quiz. K? Yep. The message on the tag will be "You are Chosen One No. [1-5, depending on which one you are]" Keep your eyes peeled O.O   Time to end this post so I can get on with pissing off the general population! My life is so interesting...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-2722259933648922720?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/2722259933648922720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=2722259933648922720' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/2722259933648922720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/2722259933648922720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/11/wah-so-long-since-i-last-posted.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-1839220054269860006</id><published>2006-11-14T10:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T14:11:32.307+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sorry about the last post =) I was feeling crappy... Okay. Today I will try to finish an &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;entire&lt;/span&gt; post in one class, namely, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Maths&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; class *eerie Count-Dracula style music plays in the background*!!! Seriously, I have the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;crappiest&lt;/span&gt; (is that even a word?) Maths teacher in the world. I swear the whole class's grades have &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dropped&lt;/span&gt; like a fucking stone since she came. I mean, she just can't teach for nuts!!! We're thinking of going to Mr Green, the Year Coordinator, to see if we can get her fired. Mwa ha ha ha ha... [laughter trails off after 5 minutes] Damn, I can't finish this before the end of the period, only 3 minutes left of class! But doesn't matter, I have the whole of recess to rant about life. Yay. Yippee. Huzzah. Let's rejoice &lt;-- I'm really getting into the 'pessimistic sarcasm' vibe here, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so&lt;/span&gt; proud of myself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. Basically I've resorted to keeping my mobile off at &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;all&lt;/span&gt; times thanks to Mr Stalker here. I mean, I wake up in the morning, switch on my phone to see if there are any SMSes from my mum, and this message that says 'You have 4 missed calls' pops up. I click on the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;LIST CALLS&lt;/span&gt; button, and it pops up with the stalker's number and the time that he called: 11 PM. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;11 PM!!!&lt;/span&gt; Honestly, who calls at 11 PM? He &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;must&lt;/span&gt; be obsessed with me. Damn. It's gonna be hard to shake him off now. I am &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;terrified&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; that I'll see him in Singapore... I need bodyguards...Lol. [Image of Nicky's 'bodyguards' from the Science Centre trip comes to mind]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. A whole chorus of 'yeah's to fill the space on this post. I'm in Cooking now, and it's been 5 hours since I started this post. How pathetic am I? Taking &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;5 hours&lt;/span&gt; to finish this. Somebody stab me in the heart! No, I'm not emo... just um, um... a bit off my rocker *teehee teehee teehee teehee*. Riiight... Once again, nothing to say about life. Might add another World's Shortest Post thing just to piss you guys off =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P/S: More photos are coming your way, once I find my stupid camera. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;CURSES!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-1839220054269860006?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/1839220054269860006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=1839220054269860006' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/1839220054269860006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/1839220054269860006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/11/sorry-about-last-post-i-was-feeling.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-4358329434765767805</id><published>2006-11-13T10:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T10:19:27.185+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well, I present to you... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;THE WORLD'S SHORTEST POST!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-4358329434765767805?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/4358329434765767805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=4358329434765767805' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/4358329434765767805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/4358329434765767805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/11/well-i-present-to-you.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-1815984482994758228</id><published>2006-11-11T16:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-12T14:56:42.947+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okie-dokie. Third post of the day, the second after my piano recital... yada yada yada. Since I just felt like posting, but not writing about Life, I copped a quiz off Charis XD Sorry honey, but I was feeling like shit, so there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What is your full name?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Eugenia Woo Yi Ting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What is your chinese name?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Yi Ting [依庭]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Name 5 weird facts about yourself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I am weird.&lt;br /&gt;- When I get pissed, the first thing I do is to tell the person pissing me off to go get fucked.&lt;br /&gt;- I can be singing a song, and then crashing into someone I didn't even know was there a second later.&lt;br /&gt;- I can imitate Bloat (the pufferfish), from Finding Nemo&lt;br /&gt;- I live with a couple of bitches (not really dogs, more humanoid versions).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Name 5 habits of yourself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- IMing&lt;br /&gt;- Procrastinating&lt;br /&gt;- Playing on my computer&lt;br /&gt;- Singing while walking&lt;br /&gt;- Watching YouTube vids&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Name any five people&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Sam (the girl, not Maddi's boyfriend)&lt;br /&gt;- Dimity&lt;br /&gt;- Dione&lt;br /&gt;- 'Ness&lt;br /&gt;- The Stalker&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Out of the 5 people , choose 1 of the same gender and give a reason&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dimity. I was caught up in her personal affairs after carelessly telling her &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cousin&lt;/span&gt; that someone was spreading rumours about her being a boyfriend-stealer. It's still on my conscience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Choose another one of the opp gender and give a reason&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Stalker is the only guy on the list, and I chose him because he's the only one, and because he's calling me like, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;5 times every fucking day.&lt;/span&gt; Yeah, it &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; pisses me off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Are you crushing , dating or available?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crushing =) But I won't say who...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How many times have you been married?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charis... why can't you pick a quiz for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;teenagers&lt;/span&gt;, not one for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;widowers&lt;/span&gt;. Anyway, since I'm only 12 years old, I obviously haven't been married before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How many ex do you have?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just one, Cadet Kid (won't give his real name, but my mum knows him as AY)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Have you have sex before?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. What kind of question is that?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Have you kissed anyone before?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes. Who wouldn't have? I've kissed my mum, my dad, my brother... the list of relatives goes on and on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; What is the most embarrassing thing you did?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't choose. Embarrassed myself too many times &gt;.&lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14.  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Are you homo or straight?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look, if I've had a boyfriend, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;COULD I BE HOMO&lt;/span&gt;?! Jeez, fucking stupid quiz...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lastly , are you mad?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, mad at &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;YOU&lt;/span&gt;, quiz-maker-person... but if you referring to the psychological 'mad', no I'm not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Choose five people to do this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1)Sam (the girl, again)&lt;br /&gt;2)Maddi&lt;br /&gt;3)Ms Gibson *teehee*&lt;br /&gt;4)Bibie&lt;br /&gt;5)Liyan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Finally&lt;/span&gt;, I thought it would never end... Yeah, that's basically it. I'll try to post tomorrow or late tonight, but no promises!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-1815984482994758228?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/1815984482994758228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=1815984482994758228' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/1815984482994758228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/1815984482994758228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/11/okie-dokie.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-5754399298464969719</id><published>2006-11-11T15:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-11T16:40:23.837+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well, I promised Di that I would dedicate a whole post to pics =) And that is exactly what I will do. The first few are of the boarding house... *sigh* Remember, Di, you asked for this!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7067/4507/1600/CIMG0129.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7067/4507/320/CIMG0129.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one is of my room. I know, I know, fucking messy...but then again, it was taken today (Saturday), and the weekends are the official "Days of Messiness". Suck on that, Mum!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7067/4507/1600/CIMG0130.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7067/4507/320/CIMG0130.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the people passing by were like "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WTF?!&lt;/span&gt; Why are you taking a picture of the toilets, you retard?!" Yeah, these are the toilets. The showers are on the other side, and they are small. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fuckin' small!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7067/4507/1600/CIMG0131.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7067/4507/320/CIMG0131.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the prettier views from my room =) It's the school basketball courts, and they double as tennis ones in summer. The pool is like, my &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;fave&lt;/span&gt; hangout this term, it's so fucking hot here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7067/4507/1600/CIMG0132.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7067/4507/320/CIMG0132.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the BSR a.k.a Boarders' Sitting Room. We have meetings here, cook in that small room in the corner, sit on the chairs and watch TV. Yippee. Hooray. How exciting &lt;-- note the unenthusiasm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7067/4507/1600/CIMG0133.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7067/4507/320/CIMG0133.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I present to you... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;THE DINING ROOM!!!&lt;/span&gt; Where we line up at mealtimes to receive lumps of glop that even dogs wouldn't eat... Trust me, it's a tried and tested theory. I try to avoid it when I can, but unfortunately, humans need to consume inane amounts of food to survive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7067/4507/1600/CIMG0134.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/7067/4507/320/CIMG0134.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another pretty part of the boarding house, and the last pic for this post *phew*! [glares angrily at Di] I didn't know I had to drag each pic around, you see, and stuff out the text's layout!!!&lt;br /&gt;Okay, anyway, here's the courtyard, where we have socials and barbecues with &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Scotch College&lt;/span&gt; boys! Teehee...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, posting pictures is TOO much effort. I think I might never post any more photos, but I might feel differently later on XD Can't be bothered writing anymore, again... so check out the pics :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-5754399298464969719?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/5754399298464969719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=5754399298464969719' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/5754399298464969719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/5754399298464969719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/11/well-i-promised-di-that-i-would.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-5627461740565565972</id><published>2006-11-11T09:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-11T10:54:16.867+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's like, 9.38 AM here, and I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt; woke up. What makes it worse, is that I slept at like, 9.30 last night, and I'm &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;STILL FEELING LIKE A FUCKING ZOMBIE&lt;/span&gt;!!! Must be the stupid dolls project... I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;seriously will &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; be able to look at another doll in like, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;EVER.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Just for the people that don't know about Kiyoni Brown... she was this bitch of a doll I had to analyse for English and write 13 paragraphs on. The first thing that came to mind was: She dresses like a skanky 'ho. Because I hated her so fuckin' much, I put off the paragraphs until the night before it was due. I'm so good at managing my time, right? &lt;-- &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that was sarcasm, by the way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Predictably, I got this &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;gigantic&lt;/span&gt; panic attack and ran around like a chicken on fire -.-' Obviously when you panic your first instinct is to tell your parents right? So I called my mum (it was a last resort &gt;.&lt;) and practically blabbed at her for 10 minutes. Being my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;mum&lt;/span&gt;, her first response was to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nag&lt;/span&gt; e.g "I've told you so many times not to leave work to the last minute!!! Blah blah blah blah &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BLAH&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;." You get the message. I'm just like... "OMG... Look, I call you for help, not to get an earful" &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ANYWAY...&lt;/span&gt; after I hang up and start typing the report, it's like 9 and the teacher comes in going "Time for bed!" I'm like, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;go fuck a tree you asshole&lt;/span&gt; [in my head, of course]. Once she leaves I keep on working even though we aren't supposed to, then 30 minutes later she pops in so quietly I didn't even know she was there and says "Right, give me your laptop." At that instant, I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;swear&lt;/span&gt; my bloody heart stopped beating. I was like "No, I can't. I've got a report due tomorrow and if it's not done I am fucking screwed!!" So she dragged me down to one of the mistresses at the reception and made me explain myself. I tried the "You won't understand my dilemma 'coz you're so fucking dumb" attitude, which only pissed them off more, then I tried sarcasm (which worked in Singapore) that was particularly damaging. Still they wouldn't give. It took me like, 15 minutes of civilised persuasion to make them see the light. Just when I was about to hug them, they said that I only had 10 minutes. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;10 MINUTES!!!&lt;/span&gt; Even someone with my unrivalled literary prowress can't write 13 paragraphs in 10 minutes!!! I stormed up to my room, in a right fit of anger, and began to type furiously like some kind of siao person. Thank god they didn't come up and check on me, so I typed and typed and typed until 4 AM... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;4 fucking AM&lt;/span&gt;! And fell asleep, only to wake up two hours later and start typing again. And I finished it. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I FINISHED IT!!! FINISHED IT!!! FINISHED IT!!! YAY!YAY!YAY!YAY!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; [struggles to calm down, reliving the excitement of yesterday] I won't fucking bother to write anymore about the dolls, so people who thought my raving was funny, go look up The Flavas on Google and laugh your little heads off...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Righty-ho. I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;have&lt;/span&gt; to stop obsessing about the stalker. He is one thing I really want to get rid of. All my faithful 6SYians, please.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;please.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;please.PLEASE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; help. I don't know if I should just tell him to get the heck outta my life, or if I should tolerate him until the end of the year. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I REALLY DON'T KNOW...&lt;/span&gt; Oh yeah, mum and dad, please ignore it when I swear if you hate it so much, and don't lecture me about it when I finally see you guys face to face, k? I think I'm the only person who's mum tags my blog. Seriously, is it normal??? Oh yeah, sorry for those 12 -year-olds [happy belated birfday Fann!!!] if I'm getting sidetracked, but the tagboard is NOT for things concerning Meldon, you (Mum) or anyone else. It is to comment on my posts and for randomizing my life, not family. Not trying to be harsh or anything, but really, if you want to chat online, go on MSN. That's all I have to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phew... got that off my chest. Now my earlier inspiration is gone. This post was short because I couldn't be bothered writing a proper one. It only exists because Di reminded me that I haven't posted in 5 days. Signing off!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&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/36928411-5627461740565565972?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/5627461740565565972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=5627461740565565972' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/5627461740565565972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/5627461740565565972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/11/its-like-9.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-4383818427596253122</id><published>2006-11-05T08:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T09:29:53.874+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am starting to think that I have nothing better to do than rant and rant and rant about the imperfection of Life. I mean, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;look&lt;/span&gt; at me. I'm in Maths, supposedly '&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;revising&lt;/span&gt;' but instead I'm blogging, and my troubles are no less diminished since my last outburst... Take a look at the major issue I have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Issue No. 1: The Stalker a.k.a Fugly [I know I really shouldn't devote an entire post to him, but...he pisses me off sooo bad I just &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;had&lt;/span&gt; to]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I first met him on the Qantas plane QF77, travelling back to Perth from the end-of-term hols. He looked like the regular, bespectacled dork with the exception of a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;few&lt;/span&gt; extra pounds. Knowing me, I spared him barely a cold glance and ignored him for the duration of the boring flight. Two weeks and one friend less, I met him at the Wesley social. It musta been Karma, y'know, do something horrible and you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;get&lt;/span&gt; something horrible. Us PLC girls were milling around like confused sheep, trying not to get lost amidst the crowd of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Penhros&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; *boo, hiss* skanks, and then whaddya know, there he is, right in my face. Obviously, my first response was to stare like a intellectually-challenged toddler. I immediately regretted that, for he waved and said "Ay, I remember you from the plane!" I was like... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WTF!!! HIDE ME!!!&lt;/span&gt; Maddi obliged and dragged me off to the security of the PLC herd. Then came the word (uttered by a adult uneducated in the social anxiety of teenagers) that wrecked my life... "SNOWBALL!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, we all screamed and balked, shoving each other in our insecurity... So they play this slow song... which could have been One Love by U2 &amp; Mary J.Bilge, or Unfaithful by Rihanna. Doesn't matter. ME, being the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;nerd&lt;/span&gt;, obviously had quite a bit of waiting to do before &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;anyone&lt;/span&gt; asked me to dance. Just when I was contemplating grabbing some random and just dancing with him, Tyler (well, that's what it sounded like) came up to me and asked me if I wanted to dance. Being desperate, I obviously agreed... though it was quite awkward. It's like he had a problem with human contact!!! I was flushed like &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;mad&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;while we danced, 'coz we were trying to hold on to each other's waists like the rest and it felt so &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;weird&lt;/span&gt;. After quite a while I began to feel a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;little&lt;/span&gt; uncomfortable, so we bid each other goodbye and practically ran in the opposite direction like the other person had the plague or somethin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we had 'Snowballed', so to speak, I was once again partnerless, so I joined Maddi and Nikki lounging against the wall 'n stuff. But the infamous '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bug&lt;/span&gt; had me, and I had the sudden urge to stalk around the hall like some kind of predator looking for prey, which must have looked quite alright, since two more guys approached me =) The glaring wasn't intentional, of course, I was merely trying to look as if I was hunting down a friend. Those freaky teenage novels actually have tips that work!!! Soon I got tired of taking long strides and trying to make people think I was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;gliding&lt;/span&gt; across the floor, so I returned once more to the wallflower lifestyle, which was a welcome relief this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who else should turn up at such an opportune moment than the Stalker? It was bad enough that he seemed to know me, and even worse that Maddi was making kissing motions in the background. Gritting my teeth, I decided to let him have one measly conversation with mighty moi. We ended up outside the stuffy hall and started talking about life in Singapore... yeah, I probably forgot to mention to you that he was from Singapore too. His dad owns the East Coast Seafood Centre *oohs, ahhs*, and I gather that his mum is a tai-tai. He went to Tao Nan... why did all the boys from Singapore go to neighbourhood schools??? Inevitably, I ended up letting more than monosyllabic answers escape from my mouth, and we exchanged numbers... only because I wanted someone to prank him, not for the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;OTHER&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; reason. Oops... rewind... he bought me a lemonade &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;waaaay&lt;/span&gt; before we talked properly, I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I can't be bothered to write anymore... way too distracted by the dolls project... =(&lt;br /&gt;Okay, once more, I commence the 'goodbye' ritual...[one, two, three... &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;action&lt;/span&gt;!]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip [and that's a wrap!]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-4383818427596253122?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/4383818427596253122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=4383818427596253122' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/4383818427596253122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/4383818427596253122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/11/thats-it.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-1739597625178676243</id><published>2006-11-04T11:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-04T17:54:12.950+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I seriously have nothing else to do, I mean, this is the &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;second&lt;/span&gt; post of the fuckin' day. I need to &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;get a bloody life and stop hibernating in my godforsaken cubicle of a room&lt;/span&gt;. See, I've even lapsed back into my bad habit of swearing.&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt; Somebody help me.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, the apple cake turned out normal *phew*, and Sam was SO pleased she decided to keep it all and show her fwens. =) I feel so happy for her, poor girl, never baked a cake b4 today so it was a great achievement. I even took &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;photos&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;photos.&lt;/span&gt; It's her b'day on Monday, but she's celebratin' it today with her school fwens.. why do I keep saying fwens??? *bangs head against the wall "stupid, stupid, stupid"* Just the aftermath of consuming mango &amp;amp; banana juice with a miniscule amount of cakemix...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going out at 2, at 2, at 2... Jesus, someone shut me up for once. I have the world's most repetitive blog, I think... Yeah, all my LearningLab peeps, tell me what is the meaning of "promiscuous"? Well, I know it, but I want it to be described the way a 12 year old would put it, ok? I am seriously in deep shit, I have an English assignment due on Friday which I haven't even started yet. I am getting &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;so&lt;/span&gt; lazy... And I'm still going out and stuff, still wasting my time blogging. I am &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;pathetic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt; "&lt;/span&gt;Okay, who here thinks I am pathetic?" *all hands in the empty room consisting of only me go up* Everyone in my room thinks I'm pathetic!!! I really have a case of inferiority complex...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To make things worse, I actually broke my glasses, like one of the side thingys yesterday and I had to tape it together for the social. *hides in shame* lol... Maddi is the coolest person in the world &lt;-- Maddi wrote that, she enjoys publicly boosting her ego. &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Anyway...&lt;/span&gt; I'm successfully multi-tasking (on MSN and this). Also remembered that one of the Boarding House mistresses went round tellin' people I have a *gasp* &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;boyfriend&lt;/span&gt;! Sheesh, ever heard of &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;privacy, people???&lt;/span&gt; I don't even have a boyfriend to begin with... I feel like slugging her with a bottle of Heineken... yes, I know I have a very graphic tendency towards violence =) Aiyah... now I feel bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Yeah!&lt;/strong&gt; I'm starting to remember bits of conversation from MSN... like one of the girls in 6SY having a &lt;em&gt;boyfriend *oooohhhhh* &lt;/em&gt;Lol... Now I'm saying 'lol' too many times now. K, back to the juicy bit of the news... the &lt;strong&gt;BF.&lt;/strong&gt; She is the &lt;em&gt;last person on Earth&lt;/em&gt; I would expect to actually get hooked up, after me of course *teehee* I won't scream her name to the whole fuckin' world, but I &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;need&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; to broadcast this news. *coughs into the microphone* "His name is Ravi, and as you can guess, he is probably Indian, and he plays basketball!!!" *Silence, the only sound is cricket's chirpin'* Wow... you guys are that shocked... Yeah, so, I'm really sorry, for the &lt;strong&gt;ONE&lt;/strong&gt; who's boyfriend I was talking about, but it was so exciting, and I confessed my own inner thoughts to you, so there... &lt;em&gt;all even&lt;/em&gt;, yes? OMG, this is like, my &lt;em&gt;longest&lt;/em&gt; post eva...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some dumb reason, maybe for my own benefit, I have decided to post the lyrics of "Too Little Too Late" by JoJo (on my playlist) on this post. Only 'coz it &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;perfectly describes&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; the situation one of my dear PLC fwens had with her bf... I sent her the lyrics during Japanese class as a joke, and I only realised later that I might have offended her, so I pleaded for her forgiveness. Then she turns around while I'm beggin' to tell me she thought it was a good song, and asked me if I could thumbdrive it for her. I was like "What the fuck?! You are so fuckin' kidding me!!!" But no, she wasn't. Fine, enough background info here. I now present... Too Little Too Late by JoJo!!! *applause*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come with me&lt;br /&gt;Stay the night&lt;br /&gt;You say the words but boy it don't feel right&lt;br /&gt;What do ya expect me to say (You know it's just too little too late)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You take my hand&lt;br /&gt;And you say you've changed&lt;br /&gt;But boy you know your begging don't fool me&lt;br /&gt;Because to you it's just a game (You know it's just too little too late)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let me on down'&lt;br /&gt;Cause time has made me strong&lt;br /&gt;I'm starting to move on&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna say this now&lt;br /&gt;Your chance has come and gone&lt;br /&gt;And you know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just too little too late&lt;br /&gt;A little too long&lt;br /&gt;And I can't wait&lt;br /&gt;But you know all the right things to say (You know it's just too little too late)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You say you dream of my face&lt;br /&gt;But you don't like me&lt;br /&gt;You just like the chase&lt;br /&gt;To be real&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't matter anyway (You know it's just too little too late)&lt;br /&gt;Yeah yeaaahhh... It's just too little too late... Mhmmm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was young&lt;br /&gt;And in love&lt;br /&gt;I gave you everything&lt;br /&gt;But it wasn't enough&lt;br /&gt;And now you wanna communicate (You know it's just too little too late)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go find someone else&lt;br /&gt;In letting you go&lt;br /&gt;I'm loving myself&lt;br /&gt;You got a problem&lt;br /&gt;But don't come asking me for help&lt;br /&gt;'Cause you know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just too little too late&lt;br /&gt;A little too long&lt;br /&gt;And I can't wait&lt;br /&gt;But you know all the right things to say (You know it's just too little too late)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You say you dream of my face&lt;br /&gt;But you don't like me&lt;br /&gt;You just like the chase&lt;br /&gt;To be real&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't matter anyway (You know it's just too little too late)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can love with all of my heart, baby&lt;br /&gt;I know I have so much to give (I have so much to give)&lt;br /&gt;With a player like you I don't have a prayer&lt;br /&gt;That's the way to live&lt;br /&gt;Ohhhh... mmm nooo&lt;br /&gt;It's just too little too late&lt;br /&gt;Yeaahhhh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just too little too late&lt;br /&gt;A little too long&lt;br /&gt;And I can't wait&lt;br /&gt;But you know all the right things to say (You know it's just too little too late)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You say you dream of my face&lt;br /&gt;But you don't like me&lt;br /&gt;You just like the chase&lt;br /&gt;To be real&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't matter anyway (You know it's just too little too late)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah&lt;br /&gt;You know it's just too little too late&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I can't wait&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just too little too late&lt;br /&gt;A little too long&lt;br /&gt;And I can't wait&lt;br /&gt;But you know all the right things to say (You know it's just too little too late)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You say you dream of my face&lt;br /&gt;But you don't like me&lt;br /&gt;You just like the chase&lt;br /&gt;To be real&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't matter anyway (You know it's just too little too late)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Finally... it's over!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I bet that was one long song, eh? But it's poignant and solemn, and highlights the issues of modern relationships, where the men are the 'players', and the girls are treated like dirt just 'coz in Western society, they're so easy to get. Oh damn, I'm starting to analyse songs like I'm analysing a piece of text!!! School is &lt;em&gt;seriously&lt;/em&gt; catchin' up to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so weird, like, I was tellin' my cousins about how some girls my age have had sex, and they're like "Wow, for our generation, getting into fights was like the &lt;strong&gt;bad&lt;/strong&gt; thing to do, and this time round you have 13 year olds having sex..." We were like, cracking up in the car. Then Jess came up with this supposedly 'multi-million dollar' idea: developing &lt;strong&gt;chastity&lt;/strong&gt; belts and selling them in America. That was like... weird and hilarous. But it could work, since those Yanks have sex in high school so much and consider it 'kool'. Jeez, haven't they heard of STDs (sexually transmitted diseases, for all you retards out there)? But, then again, none of my business if they get banged up as teens, they're not even in the same hemisphere... Since when have I been so uncaring??? I can actually &lt;strong&gt;see&lt;/strong&gt; you guys gagging, and as Prissy so aptly put it, 'vomiting blood' [that was a direct quote, by the way]. But consider the helplessness of this situation, I mean, what self-respecting teenager would walk into a store, and purchase one of those goddamn belts??? Okay, enough about the questionable morals of this new generation of teenagers and their voracious sexual appetite. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Moving along now...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I lived in the medieval era, I would probably have been beheaded for my blunt wording of the world's pathetic situation, but thankfully we're in the 21st century here, where opinions are not crushed underfoot by feudal lords and rebellious peasants... enough history-related ideology. I really need to check myself into rehab for the 'Bloggeraddictus' syndrome. So I will forcefully tear myself from this website after checkin' the tagboard again. See you again soon, dear blog of mine...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-1739597625178676243?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/1739597625178676243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=1739597625178676243' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/1739597625178676243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/1739597625178676243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/11/i-seriously-have-nothing-else-to-do-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-79910841756563443</id><published>2006-11-04T11:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-04T11:15:23.339+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night was THE longest night of my teenage life. It was also the WORST and BEST night of my teenage life. "Why?" You ask. Well, here is a list I have compiled of the various reasons why the Wesley College social was what it was.         (+)=good, (-)=bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. The music was good (+)&lt;br /&gt;2. The day boys were &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;hot&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;... *sighs dreamily*&lt;br /&gt;3. The boarders were &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;4. I was practically being &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;stalked&lt;/span&gt; by some guy I met on the flight back from SIngapore (-)&lt;br /&gt;5. The stalker bought me two drinks... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;two&lt;/span&gt;, and gave me his number!!! It's bad because he was fugly (-)&lt;br /&gt;6. I danced with three guys.. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AN ALL TIME RECORD!!!&lt;/span&gt; And one was hot, the other two were...far from it. (+/-)&lt;br /&gt;7. The hot guy, after dancing with me...*hehe*, was flung across the hall by some dumb jocks, and twisted his ankle in the process. I admit, I was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;heartbroken&lt;/span&gt; [LOL] 'coz I lost my Snowball partner(-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, that was basically like, the whole overview of the social. Oh yeah, for you poor deprived 6SY people who have &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;never...  &lt;/span&gt;I repeat, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;never, &lt;/span&gt;been to a social. It is where you dance with guys to hot music, possibly hook up (which means get numbers, or kissing) and meet new friends =) It really isn't as bad as it sounds...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm gonna get out of the boarding house at 2... go out with my guardian *yawn*. She's a boring old hag, but it's better than moping in my room, right? Went jogging this morning with Samsara... helped her look for sparkly candles for her cake... yeah, basically that's all I did. Came back, trying to make warm apple cakes now, but I think it's burning, and I don't give a damn. And I tagged Amanda Lim's blog.. for like, the first time? My friendship sector of Life is looking up.. I've been invited to three parties.. one on Sunday, we're gonna eat dim sum at some random Chinese place I haven't been to. But hey, at least I'm out. This post is probably less chockful of expletives (e.g fuck, bitch, bastard) and I'm proud of that, kinda. Abrupt ending, but I have to check on the cake because I realised Samsara has gone out and left me to handle it. Damn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-79910841756563443?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/79910841756563443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=79910841756563443' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/79910841756563443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/79910841756563443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/11/last-night-was-longest-night-of-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-116240779306694147</id><published>2006-11-02T02:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-03T09:40:26.930+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Finally, an outlet for my frustration. I mean, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;give me a break&lt;/span&gt;!!! How ignorant are there whitefellas??? I go to tennis in the morning, all pissed at this new timing (switched from Monday morning), and my new coach is this dickhead of a jock! Well, whaddya expect, this IS the "Land Down Under", home to the hillbillies of the century! To make it worse, he uttered the 4 &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Words of Doom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;... &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Do you speak English?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was speechless. Seriously, is there some &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;fuckin' unspoken law that states all black-haired, Asian people can't speak English??? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;We were the ones that traded with bloody Marco Polo for cryin' out loud!!! I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;swear&lt;/span&gt; I've been asked that single question a total of 50 times so far... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;FIFTY TIMES!!! &lt;/span&gt;Isn't it time they stopped thinking we're like a collection of 3rd World Country refugees? Sometimes I just feel like &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;pulverising&lt;/span&gt; anyone that &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;dares&lt;/span&gt; to ask that deadly question, but now I content myself with a "oh-you-poor-ignorant-punkass-bitch" stare at the offending homo sapien. Much more... &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;sophisticated&lt;/span&gt;, don't you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, I look at the rationality of my rage. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;It's&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not our fault that these country bumpkins don't grasp the term multi-culturalism, it's their upbringing!!!  &lt;/span&gt;So, at the end of the long, tiring and frustrating day, it always comes back to their families, and the stereotypes presented of us. Sometimes, I only feel this anger when I'm unable to sleep and/or publishing a post on my blog at 2.53 a.m. What a coincidence!!! &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;It IS 2.53 a.m!!! &lt;/span&gt;Am I psychic or what? Unfortunately, due to the fact that it is indeed 2.53 a.m, and that I have school tomorrow and god knows what homework I need to complete, the most rational thing to do now is go to sleep. So I shall do just that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodle-pip!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-116240779306694147?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/116240779306694147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=116240779306694147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/116240779306694147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/116240779306694147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/11/finally-outlet-for-my-frustration.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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-36928411.post-116236033144453939</id><published>2006-11-01T13:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-03T09:40:26.864+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>First of all... *clears throat* I would like to thank Dione and her &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wonderful &lt;/span&gt;touch with blogs for ALL her &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wonderful&lt;/span&gt; help. She is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;da bomb&lt;/span&gt; and this would have &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;never&lt;/span&gt;, I repeat, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;never&lt;/span&gt; been possible without her expertise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay... enough praises. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Let's get on with the ranting!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36928411-116236033144453939?l=dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/feeds/116236033144453939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36928411&amp;postID=116236033144453939' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/116236033144453939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36928411/posts/default/116236033144453939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dwellinginthepast.blogspot.com/2006/10/first-of-all.html' title=''/><author><name>Crys</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00504155368382109042</uri><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></feed>
