<?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-7813109281959009869</id><updated>2012-01-31T19:24:08.899-08:00</updated><title type='text'>prayers and what not</title><subtitle type='html'>my little fortress</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>259</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-3893622459746218501</id><published>2012-01-31T18:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-31T19:24:08.917-08:00</updated><title type='text'>my breakfast</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#244061; mso-themecolor:accent1;mso-themeshade:128"&gt;I kind of lost my temper a little while ago. I realized one thing while  I was eating the burnt food for breakfast. Hard earned money needs not to be wasted. I was just kind of pissed with our help because she over cooked the food. The first thing that comes to my mind is the money I spent to buy for the food. But I held it inside because I know she wouldn't care; she never spent a cent to it. And I was like that when I was still a student;I didn't care. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#244061; mso-themecolor:accent1;mso-themeshade:128"&gt;Then i remembered one family friend of ours. She always tells me almost everything that's going on whenever we have the chance to catch up. Sometimes, I feel like she's  being too mean whenever she shared things like she yelled at the help because of some expensive stuff not being handled properly and all that. I didn't get her at that point. But now, I feel like I understood where she's coming from, minus the yelling part of course. I just ate in silence and told our help not to overcook the food next time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#244061; mso-themecolor:accent1;mso-themeshade:128"&gt;I realized the value of hard earned money, the importance of saving but at the same time of being understanding to people who may not share  the same point of view as we do. and of course, of not yelling :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-3893622459746218501?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/3893622459746218501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/3893622459746218501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-breakfast.html' title='my breakfast'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-4485101496141813011</id><published>2012-01-29T02:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-29T02:59:10.193-08:00</updated><title type='text'>what i want</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#244061; mso-themecolor:accent1;mso-themeshade:128"&gt;I really haven't gotten so much time keeping track of my life here in my blog. It's just that its so hard to write when you are overwhelmed with so much emotions that you dont know where to start. I hate validating my feelings because it removes the uncertainty and the vulnerability to things. I want to be surprised, i want spontaneity but my guard is up almost all of the time. Maybe its something i should work on this year. I have to gotta let it happen instead of making it happen this time. I hope as what I always believed in on the first of January 2012; that this is my year :) &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-4485101496141813011?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4485101496141813011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4485101496141813011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2012/01/what-i-want.html' title='what i want'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-1137898988405209995</id><published>2012-01-24T19:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-29T03:08:17.185-08:00</updated><title type='text'>sissy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-07wrbv3Kam8/Tx9_LGcC3II/AAAAAAAAAeU/FehwSRHDFzA/s1600/collage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:center; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-07wrbv3Kam8/Tx9_LGcC3II/AAAAAAAAAeU/FehwSRHDFzA/s320/collage.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701415481957866626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Segoe Print'; "&gt;I always consider myself lucky for having her as my sister. I didnt ask for her but God gave me exactly who I need for as a sister. She always make it sure that nobody hurts me and that she always make it sure that I am being taken care of. I just feel very special. I love her so much :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-1137898988405209995?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1137898988405209995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1137898988405209995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2012/01/sissy.html' title='sissy'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-07wrbv3Kam8/Tx9_LGcC3II/AAAAAAAAAeU/FehwSRHDFzA/s72-c/collage.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-5723504987269275888</id><published>2012-01-23T15:00:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-23T15:02:49.552-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Spending Game</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#244061; mso-themecolor:accent1;mso-themeshade:128"&gt;Everybody has been talking about the 500 dollars since December! Our company’s CEO traditionally, for consecutive 2 years now gives away 500 dollars as an appreciation to its hardworking employees. Now, I don’t have the money yet but there’s a gazillion things going on my mind right now. What to do, what to pay, what to buy?!!? Now I will definitely will enrol in a Sped Class come February. I’ll forget about the laptop first and I have decided that I will get an itouch4 because I want to take pictures a lot. So I kinda needed it more than a laptop. We have a desktop at home and and I can crash at my sister’s shop anytime for any internet stuff or something. I don’t have any vital reasons in going online since Mike disappeared. I just wanted a laptop so that I can concentrate on writing. But it can wait. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now since we’re talking about MONEY, Im happy of my annual raise. Now compared to other people at work, I know I earn lesser than they do. It frustrates me but oh well, it won’t do me any good. I just want to appreciate the raise! Hehehe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CAR. I hate my dad because he is the most fickle minded person ever! One time, he’s just game about buying a car then next, he’s changed his mind in a blink. I need him to back me up and I need him to support me. I need a car, and I will learn how to drive once I have it. As of right now, I don’t feel the urge of learning how to drive because I don’t see the use in doing so if I don’t have a car. Hopefully, we can come up with money and a sound decision to push through with it. He’s been telling the same thing about getting a car since 2009! Its crazy and its making me real mad because I feel like he doesn’t mean it. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-5723504987269275888?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/5723504987269275888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/5723504987269275888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2012/01/spending-game.html' title='The Spending Game'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-2628678204547177880</id><published>2012-01-23T01:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-29T03:10:16.673-08:00</updated><title type='text'>crossroads</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#244061; mso-themecolor:accent1;mso-themeshade:128"&gt;sometimes, you just have to not follow the FLOW and stop and think about the things you really want. im at that point and i need time to think!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-2628678204547177880?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2628678204547177880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2628678204547177880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2012/01/crossroads.html' title='crossroads'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-2718006552306031856</id><published>2012-01-14T13:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-29T03:09:46.497-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My walk with Niño</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#244061; mso-themecolor:accent1;mso-themeshade:128"&gt;One achievable goal that I set for 2012 is to join the procession for Sto. Nño. I realized that after all, Sinulog is because of the feast of our Patron Saint Sto. Niño. Let’s not go into the details coz I don’t want to talk about religion!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My walk. I was with co workers Xela, Maya and J-ann’s beautiful family. I didn’t go home and decided to store some energy by making use of the office’s sleeping lounge. I indeed slept though my feet were freezing cold! But that was a good 3 hour sleep. It should be enough to keep me going. What I like about my experience is the awesome weather! Oh boy, never did the sun shone! And I like like like it!  The crowd was really huge but I know its something normal when it comes to Sinulog. So obviously, we didn’t have the chance to go inside the Basilica anymore. I kept on clutching my bag so tightly so a avoid misfortunate event like getting pick-pocketed to. Its better that way than be sorry. I like it when streets are close and a lot of people just walk around the city. I thanked God we are all safe and there’s no upheavals. What I really don’t like about is the lack of solemnity of the procession. I cant concentrate because of the huge crowd and because of the chit chats. I would want it to be a walk with Sto. Niño. I realized that with a crowd as huge as yesterday’s, being solemn may not come in very handy. Unfortunately, I got no camera so I really don’t have pictures of yesterday. Now, the debate of securing an itouch 4 or a camera resurfaced in my head again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we arrived in Colon Maya lead the way and she brought us to Cebu Thrift House. Where I was able to buy 3 books for 98 pesos!! I was thrilled as much as Mommy J-an’s kid who also is delighted with books. I am definitely going back for more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FIREWORKS. SM held their 4th Pyrofest Competition last night and Im glad it started the very moment we arrived on the spot! Woohoo.. We got the perfect little nook to watch the incredible fireworks display. I love fireworks, Its nothing but “awesomeness” in the night sky!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But really, I wanted to thank the Sto Niño for always protecting Cebu from any calamities. For the warmth of the Cebuano people and for making Cebu a very liveable place for me. I am a true blue Cebuano and Im proud with that. I also am praying for my Family and the last thing I pray would be that Mike is safe wherever he is right now. I just want to know that he is alive and safe that’s all. I hope to hear from him in the next 6 months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall, yesterday was a happy experience!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-2718006552306031856?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2718006552306031856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2718006552306031856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-walk-with-nino.html' title='My walk with Niño'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-1174256319682468011</id><published>2012-01-03T22:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-29T03:12:15.650-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Work as if you don’t NEED the money!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#244061; mso-themecolor:accent1;mso-themeshade:128"&gt;Work was really busy awhile ago! Busy at a call center means, calls are coming in like crazy! Well, we kinda anticipated the heavy call volume but oh boy, it blew me away.  my head was about to crack the hell up. Migraine was the last thing i wanna worry about on a busy day at work. I surely hoped it was just  MIND GREEN; as what Henrick had to say but no unfortunately, it wasn’t! I wish later on when i wake up everything will be much better now. I just felt sick. Now, whats good about today is going home with FUN HELPERS! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#244061; mso-themecolor:accent1;mso-themeshade:128"&gt; I thank you Lord for them. There was free pizza at work too! Hey did i mentioned i did overtime too? Urghh! Hoping for the better tonight! &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Corbel&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#244061; mso-themecolor:accent1;mso-themeshade:128"&gt;and PS! Kim agreed to teach me to DRIVE though i will have to pay him! im going to make it this year! yipeee!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-1174256319682468011?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1174256319682468011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1174256319682468011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2012/01/work-as-if-you-dont-need-money.html' title='Work as if you don’t NEED the money!'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-7722332901538155093</id><published>2011-12-31T15:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-29T03:11:12.735-08:00</updated><title type='text'>eat pray love and eat again! hellow there 2012!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#244061; mso-themecolor:accent1;mso-themeshade:128"&gt;I cant say hello to 2012 without looking back at 2011. I have a lot of shortcomings and mistakes in 2011 but im happy with it because im going to head on to 2012 with a lot of lessons learned from 2011 (which is by the way, 6 hours gone now). I realized that I have a lot to work on for this year. Loving myself and celebrating my individuality is probably the biggest challenge that Im going to work on for this year. That is why I will claim 2012 to be my year. Im claiming it as early as now. I know I cannot change who I am but I can be better. I am positive. I have a lot of discouragements this year and this year must have been the saddest year for me because something inside me has died. This year was all about LEAVING. About feelings being gone for good, people going away; basically about goodbyes.  Not only that, the passing of the people whom I truly admired still breaks my heart. Their passing reminds me so much of life and I have to learn how to treasure every moment by doing the things that I really want. I don’t want to be passive anymore. I don’t want to pretend that I don’t care when I really do. This 2012, I wanna be who I am. It will be about goals, checklists and to dos! Its now or never. Life is too short to waste. Really.  It will be about doing the things I want, it will be about not being shy of what I really wanna do, it will be about independence, it will be about taking the risk, it will be about food, it will be about friends, it will be about forgiveness, it will be about sweetness, thoughtfulness, selflessness. It will be about being receptive, understanding, and being sensitive to others. It will be about the BETTER things in life. Help me welcome 2012 with a positive heart. It takes courage to run the engine, but hey don’t forget the key, DETERMINATION!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-7722332901538155093?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/7722332901538155093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/7722332901538155093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/12/eat-pray-love-and-eat-again-hellow.html' title='eat pray love and eat again! hellow there 2012!!'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-9127835782210248264</id><published>2011-12-28T19:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-23T20:27:35.465-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://a8.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/405992_217290058351794_179680302112770_479044_852571719_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 460px; height: 375px;" src="http://a8.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/405992_217290058351794_179680302112770_479044_852571719_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span  &gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#244061; mso-themecolor:accent1;mso-themeshade:128"&gt;I like the quote. I've been reading quotes online; just to prove myself that I am not the only person who is feeling this way. I wanted my suffering to end and start anew in the coming year. I wanted to be a brand new person again. God knows how much I would be willing to pay for just to take the most difficult baby steps to letting go and moving on. I seem cant move on. I want to forget everything but i just cant. I can't because I know what we had was real. I felt it. It made me happy at one point though I wont deny the fact that it hurts me as much too. But it was real. How I wish I can talk to him again. Even for the last time. I would love to know if he is doing well. And I wont ask anything anymore. I leave it all to fate, to time, to destiny... to God. I pray that I would let go of the bitterness so that I can love myself again. Please Jorge you can do this!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-9127835782210248264?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/9127835782210248264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/9127835782210248264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/12/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-6757937214468664163</id><published>2011-12-24T20:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-29T03:22:52.083-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#244061; mso-themecolor:accent1;mso-themeshade:128"&gt;people always say follow your heart. what if ur heart keeps telling you to follow the same stupid shit over and over again?  what if our hearts can never be trusted?  unposted entry 12/24/2011&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-6757937214468664163?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/6757937214468664163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/6757937214468664163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/12/people-always-say-follow-your-heart.html' title=''/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-4392205477432870331</id><published>2011-12-24T17:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-24T18:19:42.081-08:00</updated><title type='text'>its christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="text-align: left; font-family: Corbel, sans-serif; "&gt;There is no way to put them in a much better wording... but, I indeed had a Merry Little Christmas last night with my family. The money I saved and spent paid off when I know I made them happy. But really, they say gifts are not important, what matter most is that everybody have each other. I totally agree, but its much better if we give our loved ones small stuff to remind them how grateful we are that we have them in our lives. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="text-align: left; font-family: Wingdings; "&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Corbel&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;Christmas this year is kind of hard especially that some of my frie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Corbel, sans-serif; "&gt;nds were affected by the flashflood in Mindanao. I tell you, its horrible. The magnitude of the damage is quite overwhelming. Lives were taken, hopes were shaken, people gone missing... its ugly. I had a little chat with my dear friend Cha and its sad to know that she’s given up praying. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Corbel, sans-serif; "&gt;She just lost her mom this year and days ago, her grandma passed away because&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Corbel, sans-serif; "&gt;of the said flashflood. I can’t imagine what these families had gone through. I can’t imagine how they will rise again, how they will be able to build hopes now that something/someone has been taken away from them forever...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Corbel&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;I didn’t have much to say, i just knew time will heal.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Corbel&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;As usual, we spent Christmas at home and we did the usual gift giving. Here’s my lovely family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://a7.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/401661_311612995538380_100000690457154_1021036_331541191_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Corbel&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-4392205477432870331?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4392205477432870331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4392205477432870331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/12/its-christmas.html' title='its christmas'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-1691353373602171696</id><published>2011-12-08T00:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-08T01:20:54.557-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The good life</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l1 level1 lfo1"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left:58.5pt;mso-add-space: auto;text-indent:0in;mso-list:l1 level1 lfo1"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;; color:#333333"&gt;1.&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height: 115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Corbel&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;Do something  for someone else&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:58.5pt;mso-add-space: auto;text-indent:0in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo2"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri"&gt;-&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:&amp;quot;Corbel&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;I listened to a friend who is currently mending a broken heart &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:Wingdings;mso-ascii-font-family:Corbel;mso-hansi-font-family:Corbel; mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Corbel&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;. I know how important it is to being listened to especially in times of sadness and despair &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:58.5pt;mso-add-space: auto;text-indent:0in;mso-list:l1 level1 lfo1"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;; color:#333333"&gt;2.&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height: 115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Corbel&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;Do something for yourself&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:58.5pt;mso-add-space: auto;text-indent:0in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo2"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri"&gt;-&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:&amp;quot;Corbel&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;I bought MONIEGOLD chewy tamarind candy for myself. Indulgence!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:58.5pt;mso-add-space: auto;text-indent:0in;mso-list:l1 level1 lfo1"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;; color:#333333"&gt;3.&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height: 115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Corbel&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;Do something I don’t want to do that needs to doing&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:58.5pt;mso-add-space: auto;text-indent:0in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo2"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri"&gt;-&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:&amp;quot;Corbel&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;Of course, I would pick SLEEP for this answer!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:58.5pt;mso-add-space: auto;text-indent:0in;mso-list:l1 level1 lfo1"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;; color:#333333"&gt;4.&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height: 115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Corbel&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;Do a physical exercise&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:58.5pt;mso-add-space: auto;text-indent:0in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo2"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri"&gt;-&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:&amp;quot;Corbel&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;This summer I will enrol in aerobics in a nearby gym. For the mean time, formulating this thought  is a mental exercise&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:58.5pt;mso-add-space: auto;text-indent:0in;mso-list:l1 level1 lfo1"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;; color:#333333"&gt;5.&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height: 115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Corbel&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;Do a mental exercise&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:58.5pt;mso-add-space: auto;text-indent:0in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo2"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri"&gt;-&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:&amp;quot;Corbel&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;Doing this list is a mental exercise ;p&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:58.5pt;mso-add-space: auto;text-indent:0in;mso-list:l1 level1 lfo1"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.5pt;mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;; color:#333333"&gt;6.&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height: 115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Corbel&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;Do an original prayer that always includes counting blessings&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:58.5pt;mso-add-space: auto;text-indent:0in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo2"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri"&gt;-&lt;span style="font:7.0pt &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;"&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:&amp;quot;Corbel&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;Dear God, &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left:58.5pt;mso-add-space:auto"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Corbel&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;Thank you because you’ve given me wonderful and amazing parents. They always wake up in the middle of the night just to drive me to work. I feel so bless more than ever.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-1691353373602171696?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1691353373602171696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1691353373602171696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/12/good-life.html' title='The good life'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-8390042438057972109</id><published>2011-11-28T23:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-28T23:48:52.247-08:00</updated><title type='text'>And the best way to keep love is to give it wings</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://flikieapp02.appspot.com/ccfac285fd40489fbf660cdf2e37fc42.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 450px;" src="http://flikieapp02.appspot.com/ccfac285fd40489fbf660cdf2e37fc42.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: Euphemia, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 13px; "&gt;I don’t know what happened. I just loved. As of right now, its not making any sense except for the fact that i really felt that i’ve wasted so much time loving someone who can never stand up for me, worst.. can never show up for me. And now, i’ve been clouded with alot of uncertainties, i felt insecure; i felt that I’ve got no place here for someone anymore. It’s either they are all taken, they are not my type or they’re gay. But im starting to think that even when the pieces of the puzzle don’t seem to fit, eventually, they will in time. As long as all the pieces are jumbled in one place, i know it’ll make a perfect sense.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Euphemia&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Adobe Gothic Std B&amp;quot;;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial; color:#444444"&gt;I never liked someone other than Mike until i found this guy. He is the perfect guy but of course he aint the right one for me since he’s got commitments now. It’s funny how we still see perfection in them when in the first place they’re already bound for someone else. I wonder why this has happened when it’s not going to help me at all. Was it my fault that i was 2-3 years late or is it my fault now that i let him drag my feelings into this crap? I don’t know. It’s kind of sad but at the same time, i felt happy because meeting this guy is a proof that I could like someone not Mike. It’s a sign that I am slowly taking baby steps and eventually would accept things the way they are, though it has to be as painful as this. You get into a series of painful things and you get out in another loop of painful lessons. But still, it’s going to make me stronger... and wiser perhaps. Life is not easy, you have to deal the monsters around you, and its a much harder task to deal with the monster inside you. But, I have to give credit to myself because I know it to myself, though i bottled it up, despite the pain and struggles, I know that I can get through this. I’m going to hold on to that though it seems like im not a lucky girl when it comes to LOVE. I’m not going to try harder anymore, im going to keep love by giving its wings.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Euphemia&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Adobe Gothic Std B&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-8390042438057972109?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8390042438057972109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8390042438057972109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/11/and-best-way-to-keep-love-is-to-give-it.html' title='And the best way to keep love is to give it wings'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-1576743661291100671</id><published>2011-11-26T12:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-26T12:46:39.739-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Band Perry - If I Die Young</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe width="480" height="270" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/7NJqUN9TClM?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowFullScreen=""&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-1576743661291100671?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1576743661291100671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1576743661291100671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/11/band-perry-if-i-die-young.html' title='The Band Perry - If I Die Young'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/7NJqUN9TClM/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-911930812304481950</id><published>2011-11-21T23:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-21T23:44:48.289-08:00</updated><title type='text'>TUESDAY</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: Corbel, sans-serif; "&gt;You know this impulsive side of me. I went to Robinsons and bought stuff to stuffed inside the Fridge. I get to have this feeling to splurge when I know I dont have enough money any longer. I enjoyed most part of it; got a couple of drinks (because fridge looks good with assorted drinks on it :p), bought something for breakfast, tissue papers, shampoo.. anything random that I could pick, i gloriously toss inside my shopping basket. It's crazy but i kinda noticed i get jumpy when i dont have enough funds and just buy whatever I see in my way. Its weird coz i know it has to stop but kind of funny as well. hehehe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Corbel&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-911930812304481950?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/911930812304481950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/911930812304481950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/11/tuesday.html' title='TUESDAY'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-8055424738684237924</id><published>2011-11-20T17:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-20T18:03:36.067-08:00</updated><title type='text'>POSITIVITY</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Lucida Sans', sans-serif; " &gt;I should realize that drowning myself into self pity is a downhill slide. I know I got to get a grip and though it’s hard to go against gravity, there’s no way im pulling myself down anymore. I know it’s a sluggish process but there’s no way up. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Lucida Sans', sans-serif; "&gt;And as an effort, Im going to list down things I do well, the things that make me feel good and the things that make me feel proud of myself one day at a time. Im going to hold on to the beautiful things in life no matter how small they are. I’ll try my best to not be so h&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Lucida Sans', sans-serif; "&gt;ard to myself, to others and to my few enemies. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: Wingdings; "&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Lucida Sans', sans-serif; "&gt;Just like today, I typically hate Mondays because Im usual&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Sans', sans-serif; line-height: 14px; "&gt;ly stuck at home and got nothing to do. I hate it because it reminds me of bad things! But right now, I dare to be a little different, though just a while ago I felt “bad” again, Im kind of enjoying my morning today because I get to talk to my old friends at work in FB. Hahahaha.. as always, it feels crazy talking to them and I can’t help but laughed over th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Sans', sans-serif; line-height: 14px; "&gt;ose stupid talks. I so miss them and all the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Sans', sans-serif; line-height: 14px; "&gt;more, it helps me appreciate Fb so much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aeyAXokXlgU/Tsmwy508LwI/AAAAAAAAAdM/O1Xm0BVvd7U/s400/hehe.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677263193840037634" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 314px; height: 400px; " /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: &amp;quot;Lucida Sans&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-8055424738684237924?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8055424738684237924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8055424738684237924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/11/positivity.html' title='POSITIVITY'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aeyAXokXlgU/Tsmwy508LwI/AAAAAAAAAdM/O1Xm0BVvd7U/s72-c/hehe.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-2611856859259841007</id><published>2011-11-19T00:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-19T00:45:36.862-08:00</updated><title type='text'>what now</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;I have my own version. I have my own trails, have my own bruises and have my own reasons. Love can be very profound, but its something very personal. I usually equate LOVE to DNA. Everyone has it.. in their own special ways. I had mine. As of this time, its like a candle and anytime soon, I know it'll die out on its own. And, while i still have the time, I have to capture the pain and live for it and indulge on it and once its out of light, i know i have to accept it. I have go to do this on my own. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;There's no point of blaming yourself or somebody else, you just have to rely on the bigger picture out there. Lay all your hurts and pains to God and ask for His guidance and He will carry you through and lay you in a much better, safer place... and you will be like a precious GEM, and once again, you will find beauty in life. And you will love again. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-2611856859259841007?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2611856859259841007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2611856859259841007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/11/what-now.html' title='what now'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-432783782303040979</id><published>2011-11-11T07:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-11T07:09:21.401-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i wish</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;my vision; we go watch movies together, share the same drinks and pop corn, we hold hands, we kiss, we laugh in the dark. that u will show up anytime with flowers for me. that u will cook for me. u drive me and we go anywhere on a road trip, that we will be together always. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-432783782303040979?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/432783782303040979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/432783782303040979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-wish.html' title='i wish'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-6048803723580296129</id><published>2011-11-08T07:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-08T07:42:09.577-08:00</updated><title type='text'>all the luck in the world</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Cabin Crew. I'm very excited to give it a try. There is so much reasons why I would want it. It's every girl's dream job, I could  travel for free, I would be paid more  than enough that I can imagine, can help my parents, and I know I want  this. I hope God will  give me a miracle. I know im not beautiful and im not perfect but I aint losing hope. there's nothing wrong about believing. I hope God will help me. I  need this :)&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/7813109281959009869-6048803723580296129?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/6048803723580296129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/6048803723580296129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/11/all-luck-in-world.html' title='all the luck in the world'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-1042731532330020659</id><published>2011-11-07T07:30:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-07T07:35:51.897-08:00</updated><title type='text'>my dream</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;you were my dream. I built my world around you but as time passed, I realized life wont work that way. But even so, I still wanted to be with you. Now that we're a little older, things has changed. I'm not talking about small changes, I believe, things has greatly changed and it scares me everyday. Each day reminds me of the difference, the distance, and the heart aches. I told myself not to worry too much because however this thing will end, i could say it to myself without regrets that I have loved you with all my heart, that I did everything for love until nothing has left. I will love you more and more each day until there's nothing left but numbness and acceptance that you're gone. I hope that you are alive and safe wherever you are right now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;i'll wait till the day im totally free and i'll pray to God that someone will come and take care of me this time. :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-1042731532330020659?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1042731532330020659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1042731532330020659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-dream.html' title='my dream'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-5460002524245563942</id><published>2011-11-06T07:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-06T08:12:47.692-08:00</updated><title type='text'>BEDROOM IDEAS</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Segoe Print'; "&gt;My sister and I share the same bedroom. We don’t have enough room for everybody at home but I don’t mind because I love being with her. But I am actually dying to flicker the artist in me (though im not sure if I even have one) and wanted to do my bedroom a major make over. Our room is very tiny and it doesn’t have clear four corners. Here are some ideas I got online. I know they’re impossible to replicate but I just love love the designs and hopefully can get ideas out of them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Segoe Print'; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Segoe Print'; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="float: none; "&gt;Oh the internet is just awesome! :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_cYCD2Sr7dE/Trav1laqAkI/AAAAAAAAAbc/lHsX_qxznYo/s1600/Closet-Design-For-Cildhren.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_cYCD2Sr7dE/Trav1laqAkI/AAAAAAAAAbc/lHsX_qxznYo/s200/Closet-Design-For-Cildhren.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671914115831562818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YPHCBkwvIjA/Trav1h7qaCI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/zNyJ4edXQFA/s1600/Bunk-Bed-with-Stairs.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YPHCBkwvIjA/Trav1h7qaCI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/zNyJ4edXQFA/s200/Bunk-Bed-with-Stairs.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671914114896259106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nQWk4H1wmHU/Trav1cK_CmI/AAAAAAAAAbI/bJjDwN2iqgo/s1600/bunk-beds-play-house-interior-design.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 152px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nQWk4H1wmHU/Trav1cK_CmI/AAAAAAAAAbI/bJjDwN2iqgo/s200/bunk-beds-play-house-interior-design.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671914113349913186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--N0u9aHrCJ4/Trav1MLyDII/AAAAAAAAAbA/WOYDBbeqDiw/s1600/bunk-beds-decorating-ideas.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--N0u9aHrCJ4/Trav1MLyDII/AAAAAAAAAbA/WOYDBbeqDiw/s200/bunk-beds-decorating-ideas.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671914109058288770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J0bwIgqkymw/Trav01t4HPI/AAAAAAAAAaw/SAlGsk9v134/s1600/1_teen-bedroom-design-old-navy-themed-caroti-588x332.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 110px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J0bwIgqkymw/Trav01t4HPI/AAAAAAAAAaw/SAlGsk9v134/s200/1_teen-bedroom-design-old-navy-themed-caroti-588x332.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671914103027277042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gZfaPkhgq58/TrawP1dPMEI/AAAAAAAAAcc/oIh-yKjfAQg/s1600/Kids-Bedroom-Set-Loft-Bunk-Bed-McKensey-Collection.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 154px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gZfaPkhgq58/TrawP1dPMEI/AAAAAAAAAcc/oIh-yKjfAQg/s200/Kids-Bedroom-Set-Loft-Bunk-Bed-McKensey-Collection.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671914566813954114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GwpUggzeTs8/TrawPnWgX3I/AAAAAAAAAcQ/GsDK6I-sDlg/s1600/how-to-design-a-womans-closet-3.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 184px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GwpUggzeTs8/TrawPnWgX3I/AAAAAAAAAcQ/GsDK6I-sDlg/s200/how-to-design-a-womans-closet-3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671914563027623794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RQtiP5__NSk/TrawPVBaKUI/AAAAAAAAAcE/qjYewCojiCo/s1600/closet-interior-design.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 152px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RQtiP5__NSk/TrawPVBaKUI/AAAAAAAAAcE/qjYewCojiCo/s200/closet-interior-design.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671914558107298114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tn97KEBfZ_k/TrawPHrmkXI/AAAAAAAAAb4/1XD4nAo_0Rg/s1600/Closet-Designs-4.gif" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 136px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tn97KEBfZ_k/TrawPHrmkXI/AAAAAAAAAb4/1XD4nAo_0Rg/s200/Closet-Designs-4.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671914554526175602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JflXcsBDQYY/TrawOwKFG-I/AAAAAAAAAbs/5J-Qetip9pM/s1600/Closet-Designs.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 140px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JflXcsBDQYY/TrawOwKFG-I/AAAAAAAAAbs/5J-Qetip9pM/s200/Closet-Designs.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671914548211555298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vrSCbCNvywQ/TraxFBfPUcI/AAAAAAAAAc4/s1B8ayj2NlM/s1600/Romantic-bedroom-wallpaper.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 155px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vrSCbCNvywQ/TraxFBfPUcI/AAAAAAAAAc4/s1B8ayj2NlM/s200/Romantic-bedroom-wallpaper.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671915480576643522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OPQL49LvpsU/TraxFKG9PlI/AAAAAAAAAco/6PVaK2W6Pf8/s1600/kids-closet-design.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 155px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OPQL49LvpsU/TraxFKG9PlI/AAAAAAAAAco/6PVaK2W6Pf8/s200/kids-closet-design.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671915482890714706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-5460002524245563942?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/5460002524245563942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/5460002524245563942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-sister-and-i-shared-same-bedroom.html' title='BEDROOM IDEAS'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_cYCD2Sr7dE/Trav1laqAkI/AAAAAAAAAbc/lHsX_qxznYo/s72-c/Closet-Design-For-Cildhren.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-2428934495370899523</id><published>2011-11-05T01:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-05T01:42:07.003-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HOME</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#244061; mso-themecolor:accent1;mso-themeshade:128"&gt;I decided to move out of my boarding house. It seems like I stayed out for a long time but it was a good 4 months being on my own. At first, I was very thrilled with the idea but as time passed by I realized that all the while Mike was correct. I felt so much alone; I even had my first breakdown in my whole damn life. I felt the need of my family with me. So I decided to come back and I know my dad was happy of my decision and so as my dear sissy and my mom too. I felt like I don’t need to be far from them because I got no other time but now to be with them. As I grow older, I realized how time could fly and how precious every second of life is. Im glad Im home. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-2428934495370899523?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2428934495370899523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2428934495370899523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/11/home.html' title='HOME'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-4943981194350829846</id><published>2011-11-05T01:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-05T01:29:56.062-07:00</updated><title type='text'>so true</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b style="text-align: left; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 204); "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;; color:#990000"&gt;WHY DO BEGINNINGS HAVE AN END?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space" style="text-align: left; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 204); "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;; color:#990000"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="background:#FFFFCC"&gt;&lt;span style="text-align: -webkit-auto; font-size: 9pt; font-family: 'Segoe Print'; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); "&gt;Why do beginnings have an end? Why&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-align: -webkit-auto; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-family: 'Segoe Print'; font-size: 12px; "&gt;do we have to meet only to lose in the end?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 204); text-align: -webkit-auto; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#990000"&gt;These are questions left unanswered, word left unsaid, letters left unread, poems left undone, songs left unsung, love left unexpressed, promises left unfulfilled. In a relationship, one of the hardest things to do is saying goodbye and letting go. It's as hard as breaking a crystal because you’ll never know when you’ll be able to pick up the pieces again. More often than not, they who go feel not the pain of parting; it is they who stay behind that suffer, because they are left with memories of love that was meant to be a love that was.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;color:#990000"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 204); text-align: -webkit-auto; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#990000"&gt;At the beginning and at the end of a relationship, we ar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-family: 'Segoe Print'; font-size: 12px; "&gt;e embarrassed to find ourselves alone. Unfair as it may seem, but that’s the drama, the bittersweet and the risk of falling in love. After all nothing is constant but change. Everything will eventually come to its end without us knowing when, without us even knowing why and we must forget not because we want to but because we have to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 204); text-align: -webkit-auto; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#990000"&gt;In letting go, sorrows come not as single spy but in battalion. It seems that everywhere you go, everything you do, every song you hear, every turn of your head, every move of your bo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-family: 'Segoe Print'; font-size: 12px; "&gt;dy, every beat of your heart, every blink of your eye and every breath you take always remind you of him. It’s like a stab of a knife, a torture in the night. Funny how the whole world becomes depopulated when only one person is missing. Just imagine there are four billion people on earth and yet it se&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-family: 'Segoe Print'; font-size: 12px; "&gt;ems you feel lonely and empty without the other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 204); text-align: -webkit-auto; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#990000"&gt;I dont know if it’s worth calling an art, but letting go entails special skills sparkled with a considerable space and time. Time heals wounds but it takes push on our part. Acceptance plays a part. Not all wishes come true. Not all love stories end with a happily ever after.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt; font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial;color:#990000"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 204); text-align: -webkit-auto; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#990000"&gt;We hate to suffer if it would mean happiness to others. We have to cry to temporarily le&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-family: 'Segoe Print'; font-size: 12px; "&gt;t go of the pain. Every beginning has its end like every dawn has its dusk. It’s something we cant control, something we have to live up with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 204); text-align: -webkit-auto; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#990000"&gt;It’s over, he’s gone. But life has to go on. Goodbye doesnt always mean forever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial; color:#990000"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 204); text-align: -webkit-auto; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;color:#990000"&gt;There will always be a place and time where questions will be answered, words will be spoken, letters will be read, poems will be recited in the night, songs will be sung in harmony, love will be expressed in solitude and promises will be fulfilled. Somewhere, somehow, someday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt; font-family:&amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;;mso-bidi-font-family:Arial;color:#990000"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2618/3727727404_9bb166bbfd.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 448px; height: 437px; " /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: &amp;quot;Segoe Print&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;a href="http://home.earthlink.net/~foodforthought2/id238.html"&gt; from: &lt;/a&gt;clickkk&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-4943981194350829846?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4943981194350829846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4943981194350829846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/11/so-true.html' title='so true'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2618/3727727404_9bb166bbfd_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-1930118537814683535</id><published>2011-11-05T00:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-05T00:51:29.463-07:00</updated><title type='text'>changing</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Corbel, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 14px; "&gt;How time flies! Arghhh.. I always get to say that. It’s because I always feel like I’ve done nothing much all of my life. I wish I can scrape off negativity for once. Im just thankful I have my weekend off from work. I think I needed it. Hopefully, I can go to church tomorrow because I needed it. I haven’t talked to God that much anymore. I got really busy with my family and not to mention my aunt’s passing. I am sad to see her leave, I felt guilty for not reconnecting (even in facebook) with my aunt when I still had the chance. I hope she is in a better place now and I will continue to pray for her. My aunt’s passing brought the family together. Relatives from afar gone home for this moment of togetherness and solitude. Tita Tiny’s passing is instrumental. I had a great time with my family. Thank You Lord. Tita Tiny, Rest in Peace. Here's a vid I found :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="459" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/67NcePVjTK4?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-1930118537814683535?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1930118537814683535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1930118537814683535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/11/lily-allen-everybodys-changing-lyrics_05.html' title='changing'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/67NcePVjTK4/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-947002946856468218</id><published>2011-10-09T15:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-09T16:00:00.730-07:00</updated><title type='text'>waking up feeling a little sad</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Leelawadee, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;I woke up feeling sad because i thought of Mike again. I wish he is doing good right now. I just miss him so much and I am not used to not hearing from him. As always, I hate monday. I know I should do something today to ease my boredom. SO maybe im going to google stuff and try to cook something new or do whatever that could take up my time for today.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Leelawadee&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-language:EN-PH"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Leelawadee, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Again I hate mondays!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="color: black; "&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-947002946856468218?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/947002946856468218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/947002946856468218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/10/waking-up-feeling-little-sad.html' title='waking up feeling a little sad'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-1695846018265506140</id><published>2011-10-08T13:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-08T13:57:52.229-07:00</updated><title type='text'>October</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;It's my Birth Month! I hate it, but im turning 23! it sounded OLD to me but I vow to stay young... at heart at least! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;I HAVE TO to get a DSLR, a TAT, LAPTOP, PURSE, MAKE UP,  iPHONE on my birthday! LOL..  but seriously, I crave for those but a birthday  with my family and few treasured friends would be enough to celebrate life :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-1695846018265506140?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1695846018265506140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1695846018265506140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/10/october.html' title='October'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-28531943496271090</id><published>2011-10-08T12:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-08T12:24:58.687-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/317630_2225493471492_1072411615_2460664_843875698_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/317630_2225493471492_1072411615_2460664_843875698_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-28531943496271090?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/28531943496271090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/28531943496271090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/10/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-8848395335591054789</id><published>2011-09-21T15:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-21T15:53:14.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'>breakdown</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;i didnt  know what happened last night but i felt like the world was closing in on me. I cannot move, i was too scared, my heart was pounding and my mind cant stop about thinking of bad things. I felt so alone for the very first time, and for the very first time, I wasnt scared to admit it to my sister. Im  glad that  my parents we're there to pick me up and I had to go home because I cant stand being alone at my boarding house. I just wanted someone to be there for me. I can't sleep and I was awake for 24 hrs. I felt so bad and I had to skip work and worst, I didnt call because I cant find a better excuse. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;Please God, have mercy on me. I wanted to be a better person but I can't be weak like this. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-8848395335591054789?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8848395335591054789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8848395335591054789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/09/breakdown.html' title='breakdown'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-5438992337347990986</id><published>2011-09-20T21:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-20T21:44:38.431-07:00</updated><title type='text'>dear mike</title><content type='html'>i know ur no longer mine. would like u to know that without u its been so hard. i cant sleep for days now thinking about us, i've been sacred, miserable and sometimes i just wanna die because even when i tell myself to be strong, u still haunt me every second of the day. I know this time, im losing you forever.  i will continue to love u until nothing's left. i hope one day everything will be a little clearer.. better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-5438992337347990986?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/5438992337347990986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/5438992337347990986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/09/dear-mike.html' title='dear mike'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-7488237420931736299</id><published>2011-09-18T19:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-18T19:03:38.497-07:00</updated><title type='text'>september stinks</title><content type='html'>everything stinks.  i lost mike forever this day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-7488237420931736299?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/7488237420931736299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/7488237420931736299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/09/september-stinks.html' title='september stinks'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-8939616538232429922</id><published>2011-09-01T21:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-01T22:28:00.622-07:00</updated><title type='text'>hate u mum</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;i got two days off work and as usual, i'd spent the first day alone at my own place. I didnt go home because i wanted to spend my day without having to think of anything or without flickering any remorse  feeling to my mom for even just &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;a day. I gotta admit, i've been too hard to myself and i've been too hard to my mom. I just felt so sad because I know my family is breaking apart. I used to hate it when my mom would spank us but l&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;ife was simple back then. She was a terror but I knew my dad was in love with her, so i didnt mind her being hard on us. But now, its kind of different. She turned into something that i cant fathom. I wish God will forgive me for feeling this way, at the same time, i wish I could tell my mom how i hate her and why i hate her so much.  I'd rather see her leave us than stay at home and not care at all. In my eyes we are someones whom she is done with. Her role as a as a mom expired way back when she abandoned us years ago. It's kind of weird how I used to pray to God to keep our family as a whole but now that i've grown up, I am left with no reasons to believe. I guess we're all better off without her, and Im praying to God that I hope she would just leave. She is one of a kind and she is very special in some bizarre ways... too bizarre that i cant even put them into words. All i know is that we are not friends, we never were. And i feel sorry for myself because I got a physical mom but i feel like i got no one to lean on to, to confide with and to be friends with. And i know, it is something in my lifetime that will remain to be always and always missing. I probably won't ever experience it any longer. I know that we can't  change her any longer because that is who she is and that's how life made her to be. I just wanna stay away from her, think she doesnt exist and pray that I would have a heart of stone so that I dont need to get hurt all over again. I hate her and it hurts. that's all i know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WzgB8no9JaQ/TmBowCkQKaI/AAAAAAAAAZw/HTnzyvfLI0Y/s320/regret_75res-med.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647629107254536610" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 235px; height: 297px; " /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-8939616538232429922?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8939616538232429922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8939616538232429922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/09/hate-u-mum.html' title='hate u mum'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WzgB8no9JaQ/TmBowCkQKaI/AAAAAAAAAZw/HTnzyvfLI0Y/s72-c/regret_75res-med.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-3270220068324301761</id><published>2011-08-21T20:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-08T13:41:41.925-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;dear mike,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;&lt;div id="yiv1982029212yui_3_2_0_16_131397866669853" style="font-size: 10pt; "&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; color: black; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;i thought about the convesation we had and i think that you might be right about breaking up. It’s the last thing i wanna do because i love u so much. But its time for me to stop being so idealistic and just face the truth. You made me the happiest when you returned your love to me, you showed me hope that someday we can go through all these and be together, and of course you get me all worried to death when u were sick. But now i guess its time to let you go so that you wont be pressured and so that u wont need to worry about keeping ur word to anyone. I want u to enjoy your life. I understand that its very hard for you to go out of your convictions and from what you believe in. And even when it hurts, I have to respect it. I realized that I have no right to impose anything on you. I'm sorry if I sounded too desperate because I'm just soo vulnerable about this whole thing.  For 6 years, im so scared of losing you but one way or the other, eventually I have to face it it all alone because we're not on the same page anymore. I just cant find any reasons to hold on because you're not giving me any reasons at all anymore.  You meant everything to me and I know I may not mean that much to you. But don't worry because I'm not going to kill myself or do something stupid, I just wish i would but i wont.  I believe you're not worth it if I do something crazy.  I hope you could live a meaning life ahead and I will always hope all the best for you. And even though the thought makes me cringe, I hope you could find someone you can genuinely love as I would pray that someday  I  would learn to trust with myself again about love and hopefully in God's mercy I could find someone again that I could love just as I love you. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; color: black; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;If you need a friend I hope you could remember me as one. You know I'd love to listen to you. I'm  just an email (as always) away and I hope I can count on you as well. After all, we started out as friends.  I wish we could find our ways to forgiveness. Im never gunna give up on you, Im just letting us go because we both know we deserve more than this. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; color: black; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Just promise me you will take care of yourself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: times, serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Lao UI&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;color:black;background:white; mso-fareast-language:EN-PH"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: times, serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Lao UI&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;color:black;background:white; mso-fareast-language:EN-PH"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: times, serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Lao UI&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;color:black;background:white; mso-fareast-language:EN-PH"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: times, serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Lao UI&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family:&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;color:black;background:white; mso-fareast-language:EN-PH"&gt;I'll always think about you,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lao UI', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;Jorge&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;&lt;div style="font-size: 10pt; "&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: times, serif; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Lao UI&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-3270220068324301761?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/3270220068324301761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/3270220068324301761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/08/dear-mike-i-thought-about-convesation.html' title=''/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-5804042054837923984</id><published>2011-08-19T11:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-19T11:16:34.042-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Lao UI', sans-serif; color: rgb(43, 43, 39); "&gt;I've been meaning to write about everything that my heart's been feeling lately but i always got no time. I remember when i was still in college what I want. I always picture out myself living overseas. Living somewhere far and nice. I was idealistic by then, but now I know how it could demand a good amount of time, effort, money and courage. I hadn't taken any steps yet but if i will really start doing something about it, i know it wont be easy but I know i can make it. I have to think about what Mike had told me, I will be missing my family, and it's going to be hard all alone by myself. It's all true, I would agree but I wanted to know how it is like to stand on my own, to live somewhere entirely different and to just... just escape from here. I love my family more than anything else but other than that, I don't have much reason to stay and just be stuck right here. I wanted to experience the world. But honestly, I don't know where to start.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Lao UI', sans-serif; color: rgb(43, 43, 39); background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Lao UI', sans-serif; color: rgb(43, 43, 39); "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Lao UI', sans-serif; color: rgb(43, 43, 39); background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Lao UI', sans-serif; color: rgb(43, 43, 39); "&gt;WORK: There's not much about work except im tired of doing the same thing over and over again and im upset because people at work can't see me as someone who can do something more. So after I failed twice to be an SME, I decided not to care about my scores and I would just hope that someday soon I would find a reason to be good AGAIN. After failing to get the pose, I come to think that maybe this is not the job for me because I lost the passion and taking calls is not a passion at all, so i really can't see myself taking calls for a long time, and I don't get paid that much too and its one of the reasons why I'm so disinclined to work. HOWEVER, despite of all these, there's this thin thread of a reason to stay; one is, im working for one of the biggest company in the world and second, I have fabulous workmates who could somehow brighten up my day at work. As of right now, I'l hold on to those very reasons until I find a way and opportunity to travel or to do something that I'm really passionate about.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Lao UI', sans-serif; color: rgb(43, 43, 39); background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Lao UI', sans-serif; color: rgb(43, 43, 39); "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Lao UI', sans-serif; color: rgb(43, 43, 39); background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Lao UI', sans-serif; color: rgb(43, 43, 39); "&gt;LIFE: Mike was my life. But not anymore. I cannot rely my life, my feelings and my heart to him because I realized he's no good. What he is only good at is chatting with me online. I bet he could do that all his life and here I am letting myself down and be fooled. I hate him, I hate that I love him so much I could wait forever. I hope I'd find the courage to understand his reasons and forgiveness to be gentle to myself and not be resentful about this whole mess. I wish I'd find myself to peace again. I wish I would come to love myself more before loving someone else. As of right now, for me it is over. It's been over 6 years and nothing has ever happened. This is not normal so i'm walking out of this misery and start living my own life. I will be the only one who will define my life and not someone else. And I'm so guilty about all of these because most of the time, I know I have forgotten that God is there with me. I guess I failed to call upon His Name. I would like to look at this as a treasure and a very valuable lesson instead of a failure. I know it's too angelic for me to say this but I will try my very best to look at it that way. My family is here and I got friends I guess. If Mike wants someone to talk to, I'll be there for him because I know he needed someone to stand by him and not leave him. It's just too bad that he can't see me as someone who would stick with him no matter what. If I we're given the chance, I'd share my whole life with him but I guess this is something impossible. I wish i'd stop thinking about the future with him because obviously we're not on the same page and maybe that's why after 6 years, nothing has happened.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Lao UI', sans-serif; color: rgb(43, 43, 39); background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Lao UI', sans-serif; color: rgb(43, 43, 39); "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Lao UI', sans-serif; color: rgb(43, 43, 39); background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Lao UI', sans-serif; color: rgb(43, 43, 39); "&gt;FAMILY: We're all healthy and that's something I'm really thankful of. Though there are problems in the way I guess we're still intact though there are holes in between. It's my mom and I wish I'd be more understanding and loving before it's too late. She spends like crazy and we're running out of funds because of her to the point that my dad is about to just give up on her. We don't want to give up on someone in the family because we value our family that much. So I pray for the strength, enlightenment and change for the better. I miss my brother who is currently in Palawan. Though the distance hurts, I am happy for him that at an early age, he is able to live on his own and I am certain that he will grow up to be a good man. We all owe this to my father whose presence and support molded us to be so caring about one another and to of course to my mom who most of the time has her own eccentric ways which helped us to be more decisive at all times and to be more considerate for others needs instead of just thinking about ourselves. Though there are cracks threatening to break our family, Im confident that we can at the end survive all these. After all, my family is God's greatest gift and somehow because of them, I feel im still the luckiest.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Lao UI', sans-serif; color: rgb(43, 43, 39); background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:&amp;quot;Lao UI&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;mso-fareast-font-family: FangSong"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-5804042054837923984?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/5804042054837923984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/5804042054837923984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/08/ive-been-meaning-to-write-about.html' title=''/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-8270635086986047537</id><published>2011-08-13T04:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-19T11:18:10.298-07:00</updated><title type='text'>:&gt;</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;i have a pretty packed up weekend. I swapped schedules with Cha and have to work later (in about an hour and some minutes) because her family is coming over for the weekend. I didn't realize its gonna be mum's birthday tomorrow. I hate split RDs but I dont mind swapping my schedule with Cha at all its just that I always have troubles sleeping early on a Saturday and having to wake up waaay early because the shift starts an hour earlier. But can't complain much though, I love the Sat Shift, though they cut off our lunch break into 30 mins, calls are not that much and we get to leave 30 mins early too :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So having said that; I barely had 4 hours of sleep for today and decided to buy  mom a present so that I can go home right away after work. I dont know what's the plan for mum's bday but I bought her a pair of earrings. Its really nice though they are just fancy (lol) but they, they look elegant and sure do mum will like it. (i  hope so)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Well, i'll get back to u my bloggie because its time for me to roll.. ciao! :)&lt;/div&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/7813109281959009869-8270635086986047537?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8270635086986047537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8270635086986047537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/08/blog-post.html' title=':&gt;'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-739588607662089194</id><published>2011-07-31T18:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-31T18:42:37.275-07:00</updated><title type='text'>gotta read</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://ph.yahoo.matchmove.com/news/article/a-fathers-message-from-beyond-the-grave"&gt;made me cry&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-739588607662089194?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/739588607662089194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/739588607662089194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/07/gotta-read.html' title='gotta read'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-2264217289016598287</id><published>2011-07-24T19:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-24T20:15:42.729-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my battle</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;There are times that I do things without really thinking at all. I didn't get the SME post at work. And to my surprise, I left a little bit feeling wrecked. Before and during the application I didn't think much about it because I'm on a 50/50 status about the new role. Half of myself wants to get it to satisfy my sense of pride. Yes, my pride. I don't have problems taking in calls every night but the thought of seeing other people not taking in calls creates endless of bubbles  made of envy and they; believe me, keeps on passing right in front of my very eyes. It annoys me and I wanted to plunk them hard so that they will disappear on my eyesight. But, of course I don't hate my friends at work. They deserve the post but I think I deserve it too and too bad for me coz they can't see it. other half of myself doesnt want to get the post because for the simple fact that I don't like the management. I never liked them. And not liking them is another story that I could write for a day. Anyway, to make it short, I was confuse. But now that I didn't get the post, I lost all my reasons to work. I don't feel like working any longer. I didn't expect that there'd be more confusion after this; but quitting work anytime soon this year would open up a new world for me. This feeling of confusion is a blessing though because I know I got alot of options. But what I wanted to do is to put up a business and for a while stop working as an employee or I can also take advantage of my teaching profession now that I am licensed to teach and pave years of teaching experience so that I can work overseas and so that I can travel. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;But behind all of these, im trying to learn from my mistakes. That, One you can get what your heart has desired only for the right reasons and two, that it's never healthy to compare yourself to someone because it will do nothing but hurt you. And whose to blame? no need to look around because its you. Its easier said and done but reflections such as this can make you become better. I do hope that by God's grace and mercy, He will enlighten me and in return, eventually, I would get to see how beautiful I am as a person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I love you God. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-2264217289016598287?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2264217289016598287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2264217289016598287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/07/my-battle.html' title='my battle'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-4363529668653261967</id><published>2011-07-21T23:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-21T23:29:21.465-07:00</updated><title type='text'>dear blog</title><content type='html'>i miss u so much :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-4363529668653261967?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4363529668653261967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4363529668653261967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/07/dear-blog.html' title='dear blog'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-2295068049224388972</id><published>2011-06-26T22:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-26T22:25:23.360-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8XiT7-ZDH-0/TggTmOTZijI/AAAAAAAAAZo/iM3ZwTSm_Uw/s1600/SAN%2BPAN%2B037.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8XiT7-ZDH-0/TggTmOTZijI/AAAAAAAAAZo/iM3ZwTSm_Uw/s400/SAN%2BPAN%2B037.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622765682167482930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-18ptpOklxlo/TggTl3lcw8I/AAAAAAAAAZg/5iSXjL5nMys/s1600/SAN%2BPAN%2B018.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-18ptpOklxlo/TggTl3lcw8I/AAAAAAAAAZg/5iSXjL5nMys/s400/SAN%2BPAN%2B018.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622765676069176258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MAlcFPXGyEY/TggTlUVxUaI/AAAAAAAAAZY/sGmpV0AOMV4/s1600/SAN%2BPAN%2B016.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MAlcFPXGyEY/TggTlUVxUaI/AAAAAAAAAZY/sGmpV0AOMV4/s400/SAN%2BPAN%2B016.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622765666608173474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LEHfoRj-r1Q/TggTkdGPbkI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/f5iuPmBIh7A/s1600/SAN%2BPAN%2B002.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LEHfoRj-r1Q/TggTkdGPbkI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/f5iuPmBIh7A/s400/SAN%2BPAN%2B002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622765651779087938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Stv0TZvJuQQ/TggTkNwrXOI/AAAAAAAAAZI/8GSjxb2-a_c/s1600/SAN%2BPAN%2B001.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Stv0TZvJuQQ/TggTkNwrXOI/AAAAAAAAAZI/8GSjxb2-a_c/s400/SAN%2BPAN%2B001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622765647662111970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-2295068049224388972?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2295068049224388972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2295068049224388972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/06/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8XiT7-ZDH-0/TggTmOTZijI/AAAAAAAAAZo/iM3ZwTSm_Uw/s72-c/SAN%2BPAN%2B037.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-3377909413737208585</id><published>2011-06-23T10:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-23T10:17:34.245-07:00</updated><title type='text'>:) my dad and US!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CDtfAJUnnTk/TgN09cIrL7I/AAAAAAAAAZA/2omLFGcVwBQ/s1600/zz.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 302px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CDtfAJUnnTk/TgN09cIrL7I/AAAAAAAAAZA/2omLFGcVwBQ/s400/zz.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621465358761930674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-3377909413737208585?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/3377909413737208585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/3377909413737208585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/06/my-dad-and-us.html' title=':) my dad and US!'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CDtfAJUnnTk/TgN09cIrL7I/AAAAAAAAAZA/2omLFGcVwBQ/s72-c/zz.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-2067313213798281873</id><published>2011-06-19T14:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-19T14:46:15.349-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bruno Mars - Grenade [Official Music Video]</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/SR6iYWJxHqs?fs=1" allowfullscreen="" width="480" frameborder="0" height="295"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-2067313213798281873?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2067313213798281873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2067313213798281873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/06/bruno-mars-grenade-official-music-video.html' title='Bruno Mars - Grenade [Official Music Video]'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/SR6iYWJxHqs/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-7303756162427895258</id><published>2011-06-19T14:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-19T14:41:51.331-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bruno Mars - The Lazy Song [Official Video]</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/fLexgOxsZu0?fs=1" allowfullscreen="" width="480" frameborder="0" height="295"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-7303756162427895258?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/7303756162427895258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/7303756162427895258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/06/bruno-mars-lazy-song-official-video.html' title='Bruno Mars - The Lazy Song [Official Video]'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/fLexgOxsZu0/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-8887639883208806457</id><published>2011-06-19T13:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-19T14:42:45.119-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i wish i would stop hating my mom</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Who am I to expect her to be perfect? No, she's not, not even an inch close to it.  She has her own monsters inside and most of the times, she can't control em. I wish she can be more compassionate about being a mom to us. I wish she stops thinking about herself only. I wish she would start being selfless this time. And I wish she would stop being so self righteous. She thinks she is perfect. The constant words coming out from her mouth when she speaks to my dad are, "AYAW LAGEH ANA DAD" In my head, I would reply, "The nerve.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's her. She speaks like she is perfect. She cheated, she doesnt care about home, she has her own little place in Leyte, she earns a decent amount of money but never contributes to the home bills. I wish God will enlighten her but more so, I pray that I would have the heart to forgive her, accept her for who she is not! I just can't bear her being so self righteous to my dad when in fact she's the one who failed to what she ought to do. One time, my sis told me that my dad decided to end it all with my mom, I personally, just like my sis.. is okay with it. I guess with all the things she shouldn't do to us, we're okay and better off without her.&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/7813109281959009869-8887639883208806457?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8887639883208806457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8887639883208806457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-wish-i-would-stop-hating-my-mom.html' title='i wish i would stop hating my mom'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-7654322931232496658</id><published>2011-06-18T22:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-19T13:12:34.804-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything Happens For a Reason</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: verdana;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;   Sometimes people come into your life and you know right away that they    were meant to be there, they serve some sort of purpose, teach you a    lesson or help figure out who you are or who you want to become.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;                                                   &lt;img src="http://www.lifeofhope.com/images/Baby_with_toy.gif" border="0" width="100" height="100" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: verdana;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;You    never know who these people may be; your roommate, your neighbor,    professor, long lost friend, lover or even a complete stranger who, when    you lock eyes with them, you know that very moment that they will affect    your life in some profound way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: verdana;" align="center"&gt;   &lt;span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;   &lt;img src="http://www.lifeofhope.com/images/Baby_with_hammer.gif" border="0" width="144" height="87" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: verdana;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;And    sometimes things happen to you and at the time they seem horrible,    painful and unfair, but in reflection you realize that without    overcoming those obstacles you would never have realized your potential,    strength, will power of heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: verdana;" align="center"&gt;   &lt;span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;   &lt;img src="http://www.lifeofhope.com/images/Crying_baby_2.gif" border="0" width="87" height="61" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: verdana;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;   Everything happens for a reason. Nothing happens by chance or by means    of good or bad luck. Illness, injury, love, lost moments or true    greatness and sheer stupidity all occur to test the limits of the soul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: verdana;" align="center"&gt;   &lt;span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;   &lt;img src="http://www.lifeofhope.com/images/Baby_crawling.gif" border="0" width="130" height="91" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: verdana;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;   Without these small tests, if they be events, illnesses or    relationships, life would be like a smooth paved, straight, flat road to    nowhere. Safe and comfortable but dull and utterly pointless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: verdana;" align="center"&gt;   &lt;span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;   &lt;img src="http://www.lifeofhope.com/images/Baby_walking.gif" border="0" width="100" height="93" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: verdana;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;The    people you meet who affect your life and successes and downfalls you    experience, they are the ones who create who you are. Even the bad    experience can be learned from... Those lessons are the hardest and    probably the most important ones.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: verdana;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;If    someone hurts you, betrays you, or breaks your heart... forgive them,    for they have helped you learn about trust and the importance of being    cautious to whom you open your heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: verdana;" align="center"&gt;   &lt;span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;   &lt;img src="http://www.lifeofhope.com/images/Crying_baby_2.gif" border="0" width="87" height="72" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: verdana;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;If    someone loves you, love them back unconditionally, not only because they    love you, but because they are teaching you to love and opening your    heart and eyes to things you would have never seen or felt without them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: verdana;" align="center"&gt;   &lt;span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;   &lt;img src="http://www.lifeofhope.com/images/heart1.gif" border="0" width="64" height="54" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: verdana;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;Make    every day count. Appreciate every moment and take from it everything    that you possibly can, for you may never be able to experience it again.    Talk to people you have never talked to before, and actually listen, let    yourself fall in love, break free and set your sights high. You can make    of your life anything you wish. Create your own life and then go out and    live it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: verdana;" align="center"&gt;   &lt;span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;   &lt;img src="http://www.lifeofhope.com/images/love_003.gif" border="0" width="100" height="70" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: verdana;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;I    wish you all the best in your endeavors as well as struggles in life.    Have a fighting spirit and never hesitate to get back in the struggle!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-7654322931232496658?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/7654322931232496658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/7654322931232496658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/06/everything-happens-for-reason.html' title='Everything Happens For a Reason'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-3824183021167015086</id><published>2011-06-18T22:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T22:55:44.097-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:6;"&gt;Dads Blessings&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;A young man was getting ready to graduate from  college. For many months he had admired a beautiful sports car in a dealer's  showroom, and knowing his father could well afford it, he told him that was all  he wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Graduation Day approached, the young man awaited signs that his father had  purchased the car.  Finally, on the morning of his graduation, his father  called  him into his private study. His father told him how proud he was to have  such a fine son, and told him how much he loved him. He handed his son a  beautifully wrapped gift box.  Curious, but somewhat disappointed, the young man  opened the box and found a lovely, leather-bound Bible, with the young man's  name embossed in gold. Angry, he raised his voice to his father and said "With  all your money, you give me a Bible?" and stormed out of the house, leaving the  Bible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many years passed and the young man was very successful in business. He had a  beautiful home and  wonderful family, but realized his father was very old, and  thought perhaps he should go  to  him.  He had not seen him since that  graduation day.  Before he could make arrangements, he received a telegram  telling him his father had passed away, and willed all of his possessions to his  son. He needed to come home immediately and take care of things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he arrived at his father's house, sudden sadness and regret filled his  heart.  He began to search through his father's important papers and saw the  still new Bible, just as he had left it  years ago.  With tears, he opened the  Bible and began to turn the pages.  And as he did, a car key dropped from the  back of the Bible.  It had a tag with the dealer's name, the same dealer who had  the sports car he had desired. On the tag was the date of his graduation, and  the words PAID IN FULL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many times do we miss Spirit's blessings and answers to our prayers  because  they do not arrive exactly as we have expected?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;LOVE AND TIME&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Once upon a time, there was an island where all the feelings lived:  Happiness, Sadness, Knowledge, and all of the others, including Love. One day it  was announced to the feelings that the island would sink, so all constructed  boats and left. Except for Love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love was the only one who stayed. Love wanted to hold out until the last  possible moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the island had almost sunk, Love decided to ask for help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Richness was passing by Love in a grand boat. Love said,&lt;br /&gt;"Richness, can you take me with you?"&lt;br /&gt;Richness answered, "No, I can't. There is a lot of gold and silver in my boat.  There is no place here for you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love decided to ask Vanity who was also passing by in a beautiful vessel.  "Vanity, please help me!"&lt;br /&gt;"I can't help you, Love. You are all wet and might damage my boat," Vanity  answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadness was close by so Love asked, "Sadness, let me go with you."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh . . . Love, I am so sad that I need to be by myself!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happiness passed by Love, too, but she was so happy that she did not even hear  when Love called her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, there was a voice, "Come, Love, I will take you." It was an elder. So  blessed and overjoyed, Love even forgot to ask the elder where they were going.  When they arrived at dry land, the elder went her own way. Realizing how much  was owed the elder,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love asked Knowledge, another elder, "Who Helped me?"&lt;br /&gt;"It was Time," Knowledge answered.&lt;br /&gt;"Time?" asked Love. "But why did Time help me?"&lt;br /&gt;Knowledge smiled with deep wisdom and answered, "Because only Time is capable of  understanding how valuable Love is."&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;          &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;   &lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Make a Difference&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;           &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;          &lt;img src="http://www.lifeofhope.com/images/smiley2.gif" border="0" width="65" height="49" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;A man was walking    down a deserted Mexican beach at sunset. As he walked along he began to    see another man in the distance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;As he grew nearer    he noticed that the local native kept leaning down, picking something    up, and throwing it out into the water. Time and again he kept hurling    things out into the ocean.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;As our friend    approached even closer he noticed that the man was picking up starfish    that had washed up onto the beach, and one at a time, he was throwing    them back into the ocean.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;The first man was    puzzled. He approached the man and said, "Good Evening Friend, I was    wondering what are you doing?" And he replied, "I'm throwing these    starfish back into the ocean. You see, it's low tide right now and all    these starfish have been washed up onto the shore. If I don't throw them    back into the sea, they will die from the lack of oxygen."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;"I understand,"    my friend replied "but there must be thousands of starfish on this beach    and you couldn't possibly get to all of them. There are simply too many    and don't you realize that this is happening on hundreds of beaches up    and down this coast ... can't you see that that you can't possibly make    a difference?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;The local native    smiled, bent down, picked up yet another starfish ... and as he threw it    back out into the sea, he replied, "It made a difference to that one!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;You may feel like    you cannot make a difference in the world today, but you CAN make a    difference in one life at a time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;table id="table65" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td rowspan="2" width="59%"&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#336699;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Puppies           For Sale&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;         &lt;/tr&gt;         &lt;tr&gt;          &lt;td width="1%"&gt; &lt;/td&gt;         &lt;/tr&gt;         &lt;tr&gt;          &lt;td width="1%"&gt; &lt;/td&gt;          &lt;td colspan="2"&gt;          &lt;p align="center"&gt;          &lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#008000;"&gt;By Unknown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;         &lt;/tr&gt;        &lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;                                                         &lt;table id="table15" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;        &lt;td bgcolor="#ffcccc"&gt; &lt;/td&gt;       &lt;/tr&gt;       &lt;tr&gt;        &lt;td bg width="7%" style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;        &lt;p align="left"&gt;        &lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;A store owner         was tacking a sign above his door that read "Puppies         For Sale." Signs like that have a way of attracting         small children, and sure enough, a little boy         appeared under the store owner's sign. "How much are         you going to sell the puppies for?" he asked.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;       The store owner replied, "Anywhere from $30 to $50."        &lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;       The little boy reached in his pocket and pulled out         some change. "I have $2.37," he said. "Can I please         look at them?"&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;       The store owner smiled and whistled and out of the         kennel came Lady, who ran down the aisle of his         store followed by five teeny, tiny balls of fur.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;One puppy was         lagging considerably behind. Immediately the little         boy singled out the lagging, limping puppy and said,         "What's wrong with that little dog?"&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;       The store owner explained that the veterinarian had         examined the little puppy and had discovered it         didn't have a hip socket. It would always limp. It         would always be lame.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;       The little boy became excited. "That is the puppy         that I want to buy."&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;       The store owner said, "No, you don't want to buy         that little dog. If you really want him, I'll just         give him to you."&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;       The little boy got quite upset. He looked straight         into the store owner's eyes, pointing his finger,         and said, "I don't want you to give him to me. That         little dog is worth every bit as much as all the         other dogs and I'll pay full price. In fact, I'll         give you $2.37 now, and 50 cents a month until I         have him paid for."&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;       The store owner countered, "You really don't want to         buy this little dog. He is never going to be able to         run and jump and play with you like the other         puppies."&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;       To his surprise, the little boy reached down and         rolled up his pant leg to reveal a badly twisted,         crippled left leg supported by a big metal brace. He         looked up at the store owner and softly replied,         "Well, I don't run so well myself, and the little         puppy will need someone who understands!"&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;       We ALL need someone who understands! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-3824183021167015086?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/3824183021167015086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/3824183021167015086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/06/dads-blessings-young-man-was-getting.html' title=''/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-1469470387634881442</id><published>2011-06-18T22:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T22:29:50.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my little girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a-lKPXJrjy4/Tf2JGF0s4vI/AAAAAAAAAY4/xuEU9pcCsl4/s1600/Photo-0034.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 302px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a-lKPXJrjy4/Tf2JGF0s4vI/AAAAAAAAAY4/xuEU9pcCsl4/s320/Photo-0034.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619798647763690226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-1469470387634881442?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1469470387634881442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1469470387634881442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/06/my-little-girl.html' title='my little girl'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a-lKPXJrjy4/Tf2JGF0s4vI/AAAAAAAAAY4/xuEU9pcCsl4/s72-c/Photo-0034.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-3285393669667914504</id><published>2011-06-18T22:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T22:21:44.147-07:00</updated><title type='text'>love ko 'to</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Df0a9G6sVcM/Tf2HVHyae7I/AAAAAAAAAYw/5Kku2_8bD3s/s1600/Photo-0060.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Df0a9G6sVcM/Tf2HVHyae7I/AAAAAAAAAYw/5Kku2_8bD3s/s320/Photo-0060.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619796706965748658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jBXpEEcs8fM/Tf2G3YmovzI/AAAAAAAAAYo/JUpdx3loAK4/s1600/Photo-0061.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jBXpEEcs8fM/Tf2G3YmovzI/AAAAAAAAAYo/JUpdx3loAK4/s320/Photo-0061.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619796196083679026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-3285393669667914504?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/3285393669667914504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/3285393669667914504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/06/love-ko-to.html' title='love ko &apos;to'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Df0a9G6sVcM/Tf2HVHyae7I/AAAAAAAAAYw/5Kku2_8bD3s/s72-c/Photo-0060.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-1299411207115987328</id><published>2011-06-18T22:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T22:14:05.781-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://ruthshaven.com/poetry/images/head_poet_dontquit.gif" alt="Title - Don't Quit" width="251" height="80" /&gt;                                                                     &lt;br /&gt;               &lt;br /&gt;               &lt;br /&gt;                 &lt;table summary="this table is for the main body text" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"&gt;                     &lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;                       &lt;td style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);" class="table30percent"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;                       &lt;td style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);" class="tablejustified"&gt;When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,&lt;br /&gt;                       When the road you're trudging seems all up hill,&lt;br /&gt;                       When the funds are low, and the debts are high,&lt;br /&gt;                       And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,&lt;br /&gt;                       When care is pressing you down a bit,&lt;br /&gt;                       Rest if you must, but don't you quit.&lt;br /&gt;                     &lt;br /&gt;                       Life is queer with its twists and turns,&lt;br /&gt;                       As everyone of us sometimes learns,&lt;br /&gt;                       And many a failure turns about,&lt;br /&gt;                       when he might have won had he stuck it out.&lt;br /&gt;                       Don't give up though the pace seems slow.&lt;br /&gt;                       You may succeed with another blow&lt;br /&gt;                     &lt;br /&gt;                       Success is failure turned inside out,&lt;br /&gt;                       The silver tint of the clouds no doubt,&lt;br /&gt;                       And you never can tell how close you are,&lt;br /&gt;                       It may be near when it seems so far,&lt;br /&gt;                       So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit,&lt;br /&gt;                       It's when things seem worse,&lt;br /&gt;                       that you must not quit.&lt;br /&gt;                     &lt;br /&gt;                       Author:- Unknown &lt;/td&gt;                       &lt;td class="table25percent"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;                     &lt;/tr&gt;                   &lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-1299411207115987328?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1299411207115987328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1299411207115987328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/06/when-things-go-wrong-as-they-sometimes.html' title=''/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-3867967542293123316</id><published>2011-06-18T22:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T22:04:40.793-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://ruthshaven.com/poetry/images/head_poet_strongwomen.gif" alt="Title - Strong Women vs Women of Strength" width="385" height="178" /&gt;                                                                      &lt;br /&gt;                 &lt;br /&gt;                 &lt;br /&gt;                                                              &lt;table summary="this table is for the main body text" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="table15percent"&gt; &lt;/td&gt;                       &lt;td class="tablejustified"&gt;A strong woman works out every day to keep her body in shape ...&lt;br /&gt;                        but a woman of strength kneels in prayer to keep her soul in shape...                           &lt;p&gt;A strong woman isn't afraid of anything ...&lt;br /&gt;                            but a woman of strength shows courage in the midst of her fear...&lt;/p&gt;                           &lt;p&gt;A strong woman won't let anyone get the best of her ...&lt;br /&gt;                            but a woman of strength gives the best of her to everyone...&lt;/p&gt;                           &lt;p&gt;A strong woman makes mistakes and avoids the same in the future...&lt;br /&gt;                            a woman of strength realizes life's mistakes can also be God's blessings and capitalizes on them...&lt;/p&gt;                           &lt;p&gt;A strong woman walks sure footedly ...&lt;br /&gt;                            but a woman of strength knows God will catch her when she falls...&lt;/p&gt;                           &lt;p&gt;A strong woman wears the look of confidence on her face ...&lt;br /&gt;                            but a woman of strength wears grace...&lt;/p&gt;                           &lt;p&gt;A strong woman has faith that she is strong enough for the journey ...&lt;br /&gt;                            but a woman of strength has faith that it is in the journey that she will become strong...&lt;br /&gt;                          &lt;/p&gt;                           &lt;p&gt;Send this page to all the "women of strength" you know.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-3867967542293123316?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/3867967542293123316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/3867967542293123316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/06/strong-woman-works-out-every-day-to.html' title=''/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-9060630781740273599</id><published>2011-06-18T21:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T21:55:46.828-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://ruthshaven.com/poetry/images/head_poet_24things.gif" alt="Title - 24 things to Remember" width="467" height="133" /&gt;                                                                      &lt;br /&gt;                 &lt;br /&gt;                 &lt;br /&gt;                  &lt;table summary="this table is for the main body text" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"&gt;                     &lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;                       &lt;td class="table30percent"&gt; &lt;/td&gt;                       &lt;td class="tablejustified"&gt;Your presence is a present to the world.&lt;br /&gt;                        You're unique and one of a kind.&lt;br /&gt;                        Your Life can be what you want it to be.&lt;br /&gt;                        Take the days just one at a time.&lt;br /&gt;                       &lt;br /&gt;                        Count your blessings, not your troubles.&lt;br /&gt;                        You'll make it through whatever comes along.&lt;br /&gt;                        Within you are so many answers.&lt;br /&gt;                        Understand, have courage, be strong.&lt;br /&gt;                       &lt;br /&gt;                        Don't put limits on yourself.&lt;br /&gt;                        So many dreams are waiting to be realized.&lt;br /&gt;                        Decisions are too important to leave to chance.&lt;br /&gt;                        Reach for your peak, your goal, your prize.&lt;br /&gt;                       &lt;br /&gt;                        Nothing wastes more energy than worrying.&lt;br /&gt;                        The longer one carries a problem the heavier it gets.&lt;br /&gt;                        Don't take things too seriously.&lt;br /&gt;                        Live a life of serenity, not a life of regrets.&lt;br /&gt;                       &lt;br /&gt;                        Remember that a little love goes a long way.&lt;br /&gt;                        Remember that a lot ... goes forever.&lt;br /&gt;                        Remember that friendship is a wise investment.&lt;br /&gt;                        Life's Treasures are people ... together.&lt;br /&gt;                       &lt;br /&gt;                        Realize that it's never too late.&lt;br /&gt;                        Do ordinary thing in an extraordinary way.&lt;br /&gt;                        Have health and hope and happiness.&lt;br /&gt;                        Take the time to wish upon a star.&lt;br /&gt;                        &lt;table summary="text" width="100%"&gt;                           &lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;                             &lt;td class="tablecenter"&gt;And don't ever forget...&lt;br /&gt;                              for even a day ... how very special you are.&lt;/td&gt;                           &lt;/tr&gt;                         &lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;                         Author: Colin McCarty&lt;/td&gt;                       &lt;td class="table25percent"&gt; &lt;/td&gt;                     &lt;/tr&gt;                   &lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-9060630781740273599?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/9060630781740273599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/9060630781740273599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/06/your-presence-is-present-to-world.html' title=''/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-7699120904436946957</id><published>2011-05-31T17:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-31T17:52:30.114-07:00</updated><title type='text'>March 7 2009 post</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WTD8CNRWJcY/TeWNHqOtVxI/AAAAAAAAAYc/05z1rEhGvx4/s1600/7%2B030.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WTD8CNRWJcY/TeWNHqOtVxI/AAAAAAAAAYc/05z1rEhGvx4/s320/7%2B030.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613047673321772818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;If  there’s one person that I wanna thank right now, it would be my dad. I  remember my childhood; I wasn’t that close to him. But, he has always  been my favorite even then. I felt like I was a nobody to him. Being the  second child in the family, I was in a state wherein I bring no  recognition and pride to the family. I felt like I didn’t exist because I  was too plain to get the recognition that I wanted. The fact is, my  sister was an achiever. She gets to be schooled at a good school while I  was the opposite, despite of that I remain to be flaccid. I’ve seen my  father worked hard for our family. I’ve seen him not seeing me at all. &lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I’ve  learned to give way to my younger siblings. I also learned not getting  what I want. Growing up with a big family contributed a lot to what and  who I am right now.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;But  despite of the crowd, I learned to bottle up feelings inside because I  cannot find someone whom I could talk to. I had a big family but that  was it. I was so weak then. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I  grew up seeing my father as a happy person. He always pulls out a joke  that will always burst everyone laughing. He is God fearing and gentle  in many ways. I admire him so much, and just couldn’t help but be  grateful for having him as my father. I love him even though he doesn’t  see me. I love him even though there are times that he doubts my  capabilities. I love him even though he once yelled at me telling me im  “BULOK”. But, I always believe that he is someone more than those. &lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Seeing  my father, I wonder if he could also be someone whom I can talk to. And  so, I cling with that hope because maybe someday, God will give us a  chance to talk. Maybe someday he would also be proud of me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;So  they say that when you come of age, you will be able to understand  things more. Now that I opened up my eyes to the real world, I was able  to understand and was able to clear my thoughts from the grim things I  used to assume about my father not liking me. I used to doubt his love  for me as a daughter but now that we’re older, I realized how he loves  all of us. Having gone through a lot of trials, he was the one who never  left us. In those times, he showed us that his love for us in  unconditional. I might prohibit myself to expose the trials we’ve been  through but it is in those times that I was able to say to myself that  my father was a person who knows how to love. He is a person who knows  how to sacrifice. He is a person who transcends from being selfish. He  knows when to let go, he knows when to fight. He cried, he accepts  defeat, but he is buoyant… he lives on. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;And  because of that, he became a big part of me. I want his ways to be my  guide in times of confusions. I want to be a good person because of him.  I want to love someone like the way he loves my mom and us. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;There are a million of things to say bout him.. but at this point in my life, I wanted to thank him. I LOVE YOU PA!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-7699120904436946957?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/7699120904436946957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/7699120904436946957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/05/march-7-2009-post.html' title='March 7 2009 post'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WTD8CNRWJcY/TeWNHqOtVxI/AAAAAAAAAYc/05z1rEhGvx4/s72-c/7%2B030.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-6629782752549741736</id><published>2011-05-22T10:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-22T10:00:55.074-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>its raining.. i feel so helpless and alone.. Gosh, its killing me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-6629782752549741736?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/6629782752549741736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/6629782752549741736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/05/its-raining.html' title=''/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-2073040984420499762</id><published>2011-05-17T23:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-22T13:23:23.014-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Malata or Di Malata</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;         Now there's a new craze in town. I can see tarpaulins everywhere and everybody is actually (unbelievably) talking about it! I don't need to adorn its new existence all over the city, but yes, its the Cebu City's new implementation of No Segregation, No Collection Policy for the trashes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;     I think this is not something new to all of us; I mean at least for myself, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I remember so well way back in grade school that we were (of course) taught of how to determine biodegradable from non biodegradable. Its not  rocket science for the majority because  this is being taught to small children at school.  The thing with that is, we know about all these stuff, but we are always passive and we decline to go the extra mile to segregate our garbage. We have the education, and we certainly have the idea as to why there's a need to segregate but we choose not to do anything about it. We just don't give a shit about it. It would've made me feel guilty, but hey, no one does that anyways.  Like, honestly, I never knew of anyone before (the strict compliance of the ordinance) who segregates their garbage. This is definitely not included in  our lifestyle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Now that we are forced to segregate  our trash, it may sound so easy to determine which is malata or di  malata, but trust me, even the smartest guy will need the time to  deliberate things to trash out. I for once, now that I'm renting a place  still finds it hard to stuff "malata and di malata" in my system and I  very badly ends up leaving my trash alone; hence my house mate is  compelled to do the  painstaking task of segregating the garbage which i believe she loathes. (haha)  But hey, Im doing my  best. I think I need to buy a second trash bin for the "malata" inside  our room. One comment  I heard from my co worker which is kind of funny  to me is the fact that he can't sleep  thinking about which should be  for malata and di malata. LOL. On the other hand, the local government  needs to ensure that the waste are properly dispose and whatever they  need to do with it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I heard from some news that there are barangays who are struggling to keep up with this new policy. But I totally don't blame them because I myself is having a hard time doing so.  Information dissemination is very important and cooperation is as equally important too. Aside from the tarpaulins, the local barangays also distributed leaflets to every home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CJmR_csRFGA/TdloJOBV2ZI/AAAAAAAAAYU/ioWrvDTP0-4/s1600/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 194px; height: 259px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CJmR_csRFGA/TdloJOBV2ZI/AAAAAAAAAYU/ioWrvDTP0-4/s320/images.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609629318458497426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;           &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;this leaflet  informs the people the schedule, the to do's and not to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;do's and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;categories under "malata" and "di malata"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;        We Cebuanos are smart and we are a bunch of people who wants nothing but improvement in the society that we live in. We sure do love to live in a better, more improved Cebu; some place where we can really be proud of.  What we lack of is definitely  the action, and we lack a push from our local government before. Kudos to our Mayor Mike Rama for the strict implementation. With all the tarps I am seeing on every barangay and corners all over the city, I think it's fair enough to say that the local government is friggin serious with this city ordinance.This may be hard at first for all of us, but I think we're on the right track. I am confident that this implementation will definitely help a lot to our endeavor in improving our  waste management and I fully support this step for Mother Nature.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;And now, im left with this unending mantra inside my head, "Malata or Di Malata?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-2073040984420499762?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2073040984420499762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2073040984420499762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/05/malata-or-di-malata.html' title='Malata or Di Malata'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CJmR_csRFGA/TdloJOBV2ZI/AAAAAAAAAYU/ioWrvDTP0-4/s72-c/images.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-2152900949822858860</id><published>2011-05-11T16:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T16:59:10.393-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear John Paperweight</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe width="425" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/aSYfCTepe2w?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-2152900949822858860?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2152900949822858860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2152900949822858860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/05/dear-john-paperweight.html' title='Dear John Paperweight'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/aSYfCTepe2w/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-1957674040507586632</id><published>2011-05-11T16:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T16:51:13.455-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Little House By Amanda Seyfried W/Lyrics</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe width="480" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/SJrG3RvI5S0?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-1957674040507586632?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1957674040507586632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1957674040507586632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/05/little-house-by-amanda-seyfried-wlyrics.html' title='Little House By Amanda Seyfried W/Lyrics'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/SJrG3RvI5S0/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-7009134330396174990</id><published>2011-04-03T18:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T19:00:29.463-07:00</updated><title type='text'>how to see the light in the dark</title><content type='html'>how to see the light in the dark remains to be a mystery to me. i feel like, its something really impossible. now that i got mike back and promised God of some stuff, now im back on my knees again. i've reached the red bar again and im running out of strength. i'd like to to think that my heart is stronger but each passing minute sends bullet into my chest. i felt like i died a thousand times. my mind says i have to be thankful that he'd given me the chance, but my heart questioned this chance. my mind says its okay coz i tried, but my heart is stabbed a million times. my mind says to move on but my heart weeps and dont want to beat again. my mind says to focus on my family and friends but my heart searched for him. tell me god pls if its a NO. give me a sign..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-7009134330396174990?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/7009134330396174990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/7009134330396174990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/04/how-to-see-light-in-dark.html' title='how to see the light in the dark'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-9043705245890439837</id><published>2011-04-03T11:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T13:57:05.462-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my own movie review of 3 Idiots- but not really!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Back in college, writing is a task. You have to scribble down words and make sense out of them because you are obliged to do so. Im happy it ended. But now, I feel like writing about this movie I watched with my friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Well, first off, it was a good decision to not go with my high school friends in an overnight swimming because if i did, I would have pass the chance to be with my family and enjoy my sister's recognition day. We decided to have a simple family get together in Naga Park. We brought table and chairs and we just sit, laugh, eat under the night sky and enjoy this very precious family moment. This is one simple pleasure in life that I really appreciate--looking out into an endless sea with the sparkling reflection of the myriad stars in the night as if they have fallen from the sky but they just couldn't  stop shining even in the waters. I on the other hand, fell asleep. It felt good, sleeping outside, feeling the night breeze kissing  my skin yet you get the feeling that you are safe.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6zmBOAzqgCs/TZjFbNSTkgI/AAAAAAAAAYE/idyI8F7bfok/s320/IMG_4792.JPG" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591436008594051586" /&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OEiSaQIptDM/TZjFE_25Y4I/AAAAAAAAAX8/aKHQzbYSMoM/s320/IMG_4778.JPG" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591435627032306562" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Im glad my sister disrupted me. I hate interruptions but this is one of the few instances when I didn't mind at all. She decided to go out with her friends and I decided (for the last minute) to catch up with the Carebears :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4gT15S1NKt8/TZjbuqAqB4I/AAAAAAAAAYM/I2zs7BwBAFo/s320/200366_1794505537106_1073708639_31800577_1008840_n.jpg" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 243px; " border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591460531977979778" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Lee's spaghetti is really good! We spent the night at Jillan's place (Jrams boyf) while he was away for Bantayan Island. Of course, we fill the night with laughter and just goofing around like mad girls. Lee and her daughter decided to go up and call it a day while Des, Jrams and I stayed awake. Jrams had fallen asleep (i'd like to think so) while Des and I were both fighting the need to sleep because we're eager to watch 3 Idiots.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://bollywood.celebden.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/3idiots-2009-wallpaper-pics-01.jpg" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 543px; height: 329px; " border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I watch movies to kill the time; to ease boredom. I recall my brothers downloading this movie at home but I could care less. I, at the back of my mind wanted to watch it, but so as just to kill the time when boredom strikes. I watched an Indian Movie before. I concluded, it was a good one but realized how the poverty in India causes me nothing but sadness about something that I can't do anything about. There's this one Indian guy at work. I admire his wit and humor. I remember him saying something about the Slumdog Millionaire movie (which was a blockbuster hit) and how it unfairly depicted India in the world. He said, India is not like that at all; he never liked the movie. Well, I should agree with him because he at the end is an Indian himself and I wouldn't bother wasting my time defending why he should like the movie. It provokes a thought inside my head that, like Philippines, India has two faces and it is not right to see her as something filthy. In fact, they are rich in culture and they are peopled with such great talents. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A movie. It's a story; mostly fiction. It entertains. A mediocre movie helps you kill the time. But the best movie will not only kill your time but also would have the ability to bring your soul to a place where you've never been before but will still manage to touch your heart because your heart feels  the familiarity; the connection. It should have the ability to transcend you from your current state and bring you somewhere else. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;3 Idiots is one of the few movies that moved me. I am awed at how the movie was perfectly weaved with such a  gentle clarity, cunning yet humorous script, great and breathtaking cinematography, not to mention  the universal morals, the rich Indian culture and the smart ability to raise social consciousness. I am not a license critic but I'm sure is a movie watcher, and I find the movie perfect!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I noticed that the movie has dancing and singing; I barely see this component in  American or Western movies. I enjoyed the sing-dance part of the movie because; first of all, they never happen in real life. It's very unrealistic and it brought me somewhere else new; it successfully helped me escaped reality. I sure appreciate how the movie managed to clash the world of Engineering and Medicine (the scene where the engineering students helped out Mona deliver her baby and the use of Engineering skills to do it). The clashing of the two worlds is insane but  beautiful. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Though the characters and the movie itself picked engineering as the center of the theme, it does tells us more about the profession. I think it's not even about engineering at all. The movie is about you chasing your own personal dreams and living up with the people's expectations. It's no easy task; this simple fact does not happen in India only but i think this is something universal. This happens to rich kids belonging to affluent families and this also happens to average people from average families as this also happens to people who are in poverty. It happens to all of us. It is in short, how you live your life by perhaps meeting the demand of others, or  how we choose to jump on the bandwagon, or if we're fearless enough to defy them and stand by our dreams-- with two feet standing tall and clenched hands with so much passion and conviction. It's about using your lifetime wisely by letting your loved ones know what is in your heart and how little we could afford regret to come in to our life.  It is about believing in your self; coming out of your nutshell and saying to yourself that, "all is well".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Aside from this very humanistic dilemma, the movie also has created a perfect image of friendship. The very core of our living is friendship. It is a very powerful bond made out of love, trust, and commitment to stand by these people we are friends with. They are the push when we feel like going down, but they are also these people who we can be crazy with. You can be friends with your family, lover, and to people you share the same ideals with-- well actually anyone (except those  of course, you don't want to associate with) because there's really no standard gauge on how to set this people up in your life and how well you can keep them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I certainly love the picturesque side of India. It captivates me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Aside from the fact that I cried more than once, I also can't count how many times the movie has made me laugh my heart out. It's witty and plainly humorous. I'm amazed as to  how they transition a happy scene to a moving one and vice versa. It makes you laugh at one point and the next you're already crying!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;How could one capture all of them in one movie; I wouldn't know. But, im lucky that this movie had reached me. For the first time, I didn't watch a movie to kill the time, or maybe it killed the time... but it was a nice kill :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-9043705245890439837?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/9043705245890439837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/9043705245890439837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/04/my-own-movie-review-of-3-idiots-but-not.html' title='my own movie review of 3 Idiots- but not really!'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6zmBOAzqgCs/TZjFbNSTkgI/AAAAAAAAAYE/idyI8F7bfok/s72-c/IMG_4792.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-5878129450773870313</id><published>2011-03-12T10:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T10:09:59.974-08:00</updated><title type='text'>love</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;Have you ever been in love?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;Horrible isn't it? It makes you so VULNERABLE. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a who&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;LOVE TAKES HOSTAGES.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;heart.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;IT HURTS.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;and-rips-you-apart pain.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;I hate love.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;-NEIL GAIMAN&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-5878129450773870313?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/5878129450773870313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/5878129450773870313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/03/love.html' title='love'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-4109258477547361525</id><published>2011-03-06T13:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-05-22T13:39:08.307-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Meet Hershey!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/229546_1873276706336_1073708639_31913954_2556575_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 529px; height: 607px;" src="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/229546_1873276706336_1073708639_31913954_2556575_n.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;This is my pet, &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;Hershey&lt;/span&gt;! :)&lt;br /&gt;She is undeniably adorable and cute! I love every bit of Hershey&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-4109258477547361525?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4109258477547361525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4109258477547361525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/03/meet-hershey.html' title='Meet Hershey!'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-4906507407104035497</id><published>2011-03-06T12:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T13:27:08.328-08:00</updated><title type='text'>we ask</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Now mike and I got back together because we both realized that we still love each other. With so much positivity going on my head, I know we could work it out despite of the time difference with of course, a pocketful of lessons learned from the past few months. I'd be stupid if I come to this point not realizing my mistakes and not seeing through his point of view other than just mine. I thought I'd be wiser because I claimed to learn about the mistakes, but again, with life full of surprises, nothing can really prepare me for this. The aftershock, I should say. When we got back, I promised to God that I'd appreciate life more; go out, have fun, plan my weekends with my friends and family-- to not get so involved about him. I guess its gunna take time. I told myself no waiting anymore just the present, but still it hurts because id i stay in the present, the present means he is not with me right now and he is away. I wanted him to realized that being in a  long distance relationship is serious. That it takes alot of maturity, understanding why we are away from each other and creating this constant goal that someday we'll be together. In that way we just don't continue to love them but  we hold on, we spend and take time with them and we share our thoughts freely with them. I should have talked about this with him but I'm scared. So what I thought what's best to do is to float in the waters and just don't ask why the heck am floating... and just go with the flow. I love him more than ever and I swore to God to do anything just to have him back. I didn't anticipate how is it going to be if he remains passive in all of this. I'm okay if he can't have a future with me, Im okay if he can't bring to imagine himself spending the rest of his life with me because I understand that he is a man living in the present and unfortunately, though he has some good sparkling point as to why he only believes in the present, I still find it odd for him not to think or even glimpse for the future. How would you know where you are heading if you dont have any idea where to go. I used to think about my future with him. But now, i'm all shattered and doesn't really know where to go. But in the mean time, I live with the present. And even in the present, we don't seem to have the connection anymore. I know the vast difference of the timezone this time. It's a crazy 8 hour difference. I could imagine the exact opposite of our daily life routines. But he doesn't talk to me on weekends which I expected that it's the only time we could freely talk and share or communicate properly. Even when we talk, I feel that he doesn't care anymore. I wanted to share with him my thoughts, my questions and my decisions. But man as he is, he doesn't really give a damn telling me that Im a grown up woman and I know what to do already. It makes me think that he doesn't care about me, just like how my siblings sometimes makes me feel like they don't even give a shit to me. If he is my boyf, then I should expect him to be my confidant (at least). But im not feeling a single bit of that in him anymore. He doesn't care, he told me we needed to deal with the time difference-- but he doesn't spend time with me either, he doesn't want to talk about the future-- i stay silent and give in to his request... but after all this, I realized that there's no point of holding on and getting back. I was thinking we should talk about it, but that makes me a freak. He wanted to get back to me but I can't bring my old self back because im bounded by the things that makes him uncomfortable. Because I'm not allowed to tell him that we should at least spend time once in the weekend to catch up, because I'm not allowed to ask him his activities because it's confidential, and because after all the hurt and trouble of this love, I'm scared to open up again. I don't know if he is doing this to make me realized that my prayers were indeed answered but it lead me to hell. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Despite of all these, I wanted to thank God because He proved me one thing. He proved to me that my prayers are answered because He loves me. He knows this is what I need even if it does hurt me. I would pray that this chapter of my life would make me wiser. But right at this moment, I would stay silent, endure the pain and see where life would take me...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-4906507407104035497?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4906507407104035497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4906507407104035497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/03/we-ask.html' title='we ask'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-4153243529728454243</id><published>2011-02-22T20:36:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-22T20:36:59.491-08:00</updated><title type='text'>art of letting go</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; "&gt;Put away the pictures.&lt;br /&gt;Put away the memories.&lt;br /&gt;I put over and over&lt;br /&gt;Through my tears&lt;br /&gt;I've held them till I'm blind&lt;br /&gt;They kept my hope alive&lt;br /&gt;As if somehow that I'd keep you here&lt;br /&gt;Once you believed in a love forever more?&lt;br /&gt;How do you leave it in a drawer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now here it comes, the hardest part of all&lt;br /&gt;Unchain my heart that's holding on&lt;br /&gt;How do I start to live my life alone?&lt;br /&gt;Guess I'm just learning,&lt;br /&gt;Learning the art of letting go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; "&gt;Try to say it's over&lt;br /&gt;Say the word goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;But each time it catches in my throat&lt;br /&gt;Your still here in me&lt;br /&gt;And I can't set you free&lt;br /&gt;So I hold on to what I wanted most&lt;br /&gt;Maybe someday we'll be friend's forever more&lt;br /&gt;Wish I could open up that door&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; "&gt;Watching us fade&lt;br /&gt;What can I do?&lt;br /&gt;But try to make it through&lt;br /&gt;the pain of one more day&lt;br /&gt;Without you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where do I start, to live my life alone?&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'm learning, only learning,&lt;br /&gt;Learning the art of letting go. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-4153243529728454243?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4153243529728454243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4153243529728454243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/02/art-of-letting-go.html' title='art of letting go'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-8457719404226892283</id><published>2011-02-22T20:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-22T20:33:48.507-08:00</updated><title type='text'>my piece of pain</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;Time heals. Sometimes, I wanna believe it. But right now i'm not getting any closer to that, though God knows how I prayed hard to just accept the fact that Mike and I is over. We are over and that is fact. but deep within my soul, there is still this little hope flickering that hoping he would come back to me and... just have me back into his life. This instinct of mine is killing me because i felt that it's too impossible for someone like him to win me back. He never wanted me as much as I wanted him. He made me believed and made a fool out of me for all this time, and I am mad at him and mad to myself but still im still in love with him. I needed the courage to go on but he keeps on invading my mind; and in annihilation, I can't help but shed tears every night when i go to sleep. God knows how much I wanted peace of mind, God knows how much I would love to invite forgiveness in my heart and accept the things that I cannot change but im just... simply.. am badly hurt. I'd love to have him back but I'd be too selfish to force myself to someone who doesn't want to fight for me anymore. I don't understand why he caused me this enormous pain yet I needed him to cure me as well. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;I know its not healthy to wallow on self pity and thinking about it all the time, so as much as I wanted to distract myself, i still end up with myself, asking myself-- what have i gotten myself into? :( &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-8457719404226892283?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8457719404226892283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8457719404226892283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/02/my-piece-of-pain.html' title='my piece of pain'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-3617085358469481033</id><published>2011-02-19T12:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-19T12:42:26.161-08:00</updated><title type='text'>right to write</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;im not really good at this. maybe if i could write all my hurt feelings, i would get used to the pain and i can accept things much more faster. It literally hurts every time i breath. Im mad knowing that he can easily just leave me like that; or atleast that's how he made me feel. I don't want to beg any  further because I know by doing that, im just going to push him away and i know by this time, nothing can change his mind.  If it is easy for him to leave me bleeding, I hope he will meet karma all along his way. I know its unfair to ask something in return from him but how can he say he love me when he is killing me slowly. When he can't even give it a try, when he cant fight for us and when he wont exert effort. Im mad at him but im more mad about myself because I've wasted my time and effort for someone who can't be there on my worst moment when I was with them all along. I felt the painful sting of rejection and its killing me and I cant seem to move forward...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-3617085358469481033?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/3617085358469481033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/3617085358469481033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/02/right-to-write.html' title='right to write'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-2329828629926957335</id><published>2011-02-19T11:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-19T12:00:24.952-08:00</updated><title type='text'>night out with friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.veer.com/IMG/PIMG/SMP/SMP0000663_P.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://images.veer.com/IMG/PIMG/SMP/SMP0000663_P.JPG" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;    It felt so good being with my girls again. Listening to their stories and ideas are melody to my ears. I miss laughing out loud with them and I just wished the night wont come to an end. Though I bottle things up, I felt so relieved having to spend my Saturday night with my Eyatches (after soo many attempts!) It was slow, lucrative, fun, silly... it was simply the best. One of the few worthwhile moments in my life.And according to Chena on her most recent comment in facebook;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; font-size: small; "&gt; &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;"&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; "&gt;u can be sure that 3 people love u so much...dli pa jd mga ordinary ra na people...ang usa yutaan na...si lynnie...ang usa attorney...si bingee...and ako! Ü"&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; font-size: small; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;     Aww, thanks guys! :) Though part of me is sad and broken, life is still good because for now, I know I have you guys... I mean as always! Love you girls! Till next!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; font-size: small; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-2329828629926957335?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2329828629926957335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2329828629926957335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/02/night-out-with-friends.html' title='night out with friends'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-7337213375186848822</id><published>2011-02-14T17:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-14T17:48:14.544-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lady Antebellum - Need You Now</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe width="480" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/1OfsZyYPLoI?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-7337213375186848822?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/7337213375186848822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/7337213375186848822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/02/lady-antebellum-need-you-now.html' title='Lady Antebellum - Need You Now'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/1OfsZyYPLoI/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-1086865848801370073</id><published>2011-02-13T09:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T10:14:01.918-08:00</updated><title type='text'>love hurts</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;       I really thought that you could love me the way that I love you. I feel so bad because I realized how much time and effort is wasted. I realized that the world indeed is unfair. I couldn't blame you because it was all my idea but you showed me how little love you had when you decided not to fight for me. How could I be so naive, not having a single clue that of course you don't need someone like me anymore now that you are facing a new chapter in your life. I believe you are enjoying exploring the new world... and not having someone to annoy you and not having the responsibility of making me feel good because you ought to make me feel that way. After all the things I did for you; for being there when you were alone, for being the one who believed in you that even when you had mistakes in the past, that its not too late to begin again. How could you just turn away just like that. I feel so alone and I feel so hurt knowing that all I did for you and all that I'm willing to give is not enough for you to stay. You have taken away my faith. You are the greatest proof that I am good at nothing. I can't even make you love me. I feel so bad everyday. If you must know, there never was a night that I dint cry over you. I wanted to let you know that the pain this love has caused me is irreversible; that sometimes in the middle of something I just stopped,  and start to cry; remembering how stupid I could get for trusting my heart to you. I still can't believe that everything is all a lie. Like when you say that you love me everyday. If you love me, you would understand that there will be times that I'd be tired and get scared of not having you with me someday. If you love me, you would keep me with you and we will work it out. But you didn't do anything. Sometimes, when I'm alone with my thoughts, I would defend you. I always tell myself that you don't want to be selfish and you just wanted me to be with someone within my reach. But that wasn't even my point. And you don't get my point and it seemed to you that im forcing you and im being  a freak. It's not that. I just love you and when you love you keep them and grow with them and make mistakes with them and make ways to be with them and you stay with them. but you have changed and Im getting the feeling that you even liked it. That hurts. Big time. Now, that YOU killed me, I don't know how to see the world again with faith. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;       All i know is that you left me right in the middle of nowhere. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-1086865848801370073?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1086865848801370073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1086865848801370073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/02/love-hurts.html' title='love hurts'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-5435096572334591977</id><published>2011-02-13T09:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T09:45:25.405-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To My Future Husband (posted Tuesday, March 17, 2009 at 1:30pm) by Hilary Isaac</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ih1.redbubble.net/work.4416860.2.flat,550x550,075,f.in-search-of-my-beloved.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 367px; height: 550px;" src="http://ih1.redbubble.net/work.4416860.2.flat,550x550,075,f.in-search-of-my-beloved.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ih1.redbubble.net/work.4416860.2.flat,550x550,075,f.in-search-of-my-beloved.jpg"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;I prayed for you this morning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;I have been praying for you for awhile now but stopped&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;Because I thought I finally met you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;He seemed almost as wonderful as I know you will be&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;Gentle and loving and caring&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;He was nearly as adventurous as I know our God made you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;For a while his smile was the brightest I'd ever seen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;But then I discovered, he simply isn't you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;I have traveled much distance and suffered much pain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;I know that if you could, you would have protected me from all this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;But our time to meet is not yet now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;So in prayers and in faith is where we'll be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;The heartache I went through nearly made me lose my faith&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;That you might still be out there being fashioned for me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;I nearly gave up and thought I could never love again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;But He tells me that YOU, yes you are the one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;But our time has not yet come.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;I pray for your job, for your health and for your family&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;I know they are wonderful and loving and funny&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;That they're nearly as crazy my own crazy family&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;And how you all love animals and cooking and traveling&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;And you will take me to an underwater adventure&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;Just you and me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;I pray for your walk with our God to be strong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;To grow ever deeper and for your faith to be stronger&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;I pray that your life will be a stellar testimony&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;To reach those I can't and meet those I won't.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;I pray that I keep learning and growing in wisdom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;That God continue to mold me and change me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;That I might become a godly wife to you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;One whose heart is strong and loves fiercely,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;Whose trust in her husband is anchored on the Almighty.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;I pray for a humble spirit that respects and submits&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;And covers you in prayer and supports you in everything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;Til the day we are brought together&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;I will cover you in prayer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;And continue to walk this path that He has set out for me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;That as I journey to my destiny and fulfill His purpose in me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "&gt;You and I, in our lives, bring God all the glory.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-5435096572334591977?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/5435096572334591977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/5435096572334591977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/02/to-my-future-husband-posted-tuesday.html' title='To My Future Husband (posted Tuesday, March 17, 2009 at 1:30pm) by Hilary Isaac'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-6833988018732511708</id><published>2011-02-12T13:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-12T13:14:57.219-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i cant seem to move on</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;im stuck in this abyss. I dreaded everyday  because i know he will come in to my mind again and sometimes the pain is piercing. Im in desperate solitude and i can't get my self away from being sad, lonely, empty and broken. The worst part is that, he never know how i die everyday. He never know that im aching for him and its impossible for me to carry all the pain. I just dont know where to start, i dont know how to change my outlook in life. its just so unfair... :(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Lord please help me. There never was a night that i didnt cry and im just breaking down into pieces. Help me Lord to accept the things that I cannot change. Help me understand. and help me live life again happily :(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-6833988018732511708?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/6833988018732511708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/6833988018732511708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-cant-seem-to-move-on.html' title='i cant seem to move on'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-4321522959950115498</id><published>2011-02-06T19:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-06T19:39:32.529-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u_Z0vx6NlgE/TDr1AFxyq3I/AAAAAAAAA0A/-rxpHeOkDMI/s1600/break-up-quotes_1274982172_7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 417px; height: 349px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u_Z0vx6NlgE/TDr1AFxyq3I/AAAAAAAAA0A/-rxpHeOkDMI/s1600/break-up-quotes_1274982172_7.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;table border="0" style="text-align: center; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; "&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width="500"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Those who feel it is better&lt;br /&gt;To have loved and lost&lt;br /&gt;Have obviously done neithe&lt;/b&gt;r&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; "&gt;&lt;table border="0" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width="500"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Some hearts are broken and mended,&lt;br /&gt;Others are shattered or torn,&lt;br /&gt;Although it was never intended,&lt;br /&gt;For love is eternally sworn,&lt;br /&gt;I’ve cried and prayed and pleaded,&lt;br /&gt;for that love to hold its ground,&lt;br /&gt;Hope was all I needed,&lt;br /&gt;and pain was all I found&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-4321522959950115498?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4321522959950115498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4321522959950115498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/02/those-who-feel-it-is-better-to-have.html' title=''/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u_Z0vx6NlgE/TDr1AFxyq3I/AAAAAAAAA0A/-rxpHeOkDMI/s72-c/break-up-quotes_1274982172_7.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-7073714209602305339</id><published>2011-02-06T19:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-12T13:09:32.428-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EhOPulOgfUA/TFlkJDgMVoI/AAAAAAAAAZs/OQazONe0G18/s1600/love_quotes_graphics_c2.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 377px; height: 366px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EhOPulOgfUA/TFlkJDgMVoI/AAAAAAAAAZs/OQazONe0G18/s1600/love_quotes_graphics_c2.gif" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/hs259.snc3/23309_127597533928020_7213_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 267px;" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-snc4/hs259.snc3/23309_127597533928020_7213_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-7073714209602305339?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/7073714209602305339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/7073714209602305339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/02/blog-post_06.html' title=''/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EhOPulOgfUA/TFlkJDgMVoI/AAAAAAAAAZs/OQazONe0G18/s72-c/love_quotes_graphics_c2.gif' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-2131307262941957104</id><published>2011-02-06T18:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-14T17:48:57.508-08:00</updated><title type='text'>:(</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img3.visualizeus.com/thumbs/10/04/02/english,nice,say,pain,quote,sory,,love,text-8dbfa394e3ac6f26457bfdededa69502_h.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 396px;" src="http://img3.visualizeus.com/thumbs/10/04/02/english,nice,say,pain,quote,sory,,love,text-8dbfa394e3ac6f26457bfdededa69502_h.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img3.visualizeus.com/thumbs/10/12/02/inspire,beach,girl,words,quote,sad-3c8cd86c07ba1cc9f18b97ada732db20_h.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 496px; height: 333px;" src="http://img3.visualizeus.com/thumbs/10/12/02/inspire,beach,girl,words,quote,sad-3c8cd86c07ba1cc9f18b97ada732db20_h.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_l9gr0f3ylV1qzr04eo1_500.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; 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margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 375px;" src="http://img3.visualizeus.com/thumbs/10/06/05/english,strong,images,life,pain,quotes-e373521f750b48b5085845e291846589_h.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://binaslove.webs.com/love_quotes_graphics_b7.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 450px; height: 338px;" src="http://binaslove.webs.com/love_quotes_graphics_b7.gif" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://graphics.desivalley.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/strength-is-nothing-more-than-how-well-you-hide-the-pain.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 297px; height: 420px;" src="http://graphics.desivalley.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/strength-is-nothing-more-than-how-well-you-hide-the-pain.gif" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.quotesbuddy.com/uploads/2010/08/Sad-Quotes-Wallpaper-16.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 1280px; height: 960px;" src="http://www.quotesbuddy.com/uploads/2010/08/Sad-Quotes-Wallpaper-16.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.fanzwave.net/photos/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/sad-pain-sorrow-quotes-love-sadquote-wallpaper-sadlove-photo-missing-missyou-missu-miss-www-fanzwave-net-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 550px; height: 413px;" src="http://www.fanzwave.net/photos/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/sad-pain-sorrow-quotes-love-sadquote-wallpaper-sadlove-photo-missing-missyou-missu-miss-www-fanzwave-net-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://7akifadi.files.wordpress.com/2009/09/goodbye_goodbye1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; 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margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 446px; height: 335px;" src="http://i192.photobucket.com/albums/z195/sparkletags4/import/graphics/Thoughts_And_Prayers/quote843.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.youtube.com/vi/iB1xS0UqtHo/0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 480px; height: 360px;" src="http://img.youtube.com/vi/iB1xS0UqtHo/0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img3.visualizeus.com/thumbs/10/10/01/feeling,goodbye,hurt,ideas,love,pain-3353a9628c01fea5238cecba2fd556d5_h.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 283px;" src="http://img3.visualizeus.com/thumbs/10/10/01/feeling,goodbye,hurt,ideas,love,pain-3353a9628c01fea5238cecba2fd556d5_h.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img3.visualizeus.com/thumbs/10/04/01/color,fall,in,love,lovely,ideas,ae,sad,text-3e32d7b139d9b8d3f9a623e7224c3ceb_h.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 375px;" src="http://img3.visualizeus.com/thumbs/10/04/01/color,fall,in,love,lovely,ideas,ae,sad,text-3e32d7b139d9b8d3f9a623e7224c3ceb_h.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L1FrYyyTzbM/TRpxKu0Q1gI/AAAAAAAAAAo/uqr4eoar9OA/s1600/mine.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 448px; height: 297px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_L1FrYyyTzbM/TRpxKu0Q1gI/AAAAAAAAAAo/uqr4eoar9OA/s1600/mine.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-2131307262941957104?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2131307262941957104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2131307262941957104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/02/blog-post.html' title=':('/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUkfeMTd-PM/TFFL1pJmUFI/AAAAAAAAAPE/KAmZsDbuoDU/s72-c/0.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-891223270185007824</id><published>2011-02-04T18:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-04T18:32:14.066-08:00</updated><title type='text'>crap bullshit fukcccc</title><content type='html'>I've been keeping it all inside. Im nothing but a mess. i have nothing left at all. i wanted to tell him that im angry, im mad im feeling helpless. I feel used by mike. i feel like he just used me when he needed someone for him and now that he's got a new life, new everything and starting anew, he doesnt want to deal with this shit. i hope he will not find happiness, i hope that i shudnt have loved him so that i wont need to be hurt like this. i feel so much in pain that i just cry in the middle of something because sometimes i feel like i cant take it anymore but i need to act like im strong, that i dont love him this much and that im cool with everything. it sucks knowing him. i regret everything and i hope i'd be over him and start a new life and stop being bitter and will hope that someday i'll meet him again and he'll be back in hell.. stupid me.. stupid me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-891223270185007824?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/891223270185007824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/891223270185007824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/02/crap-bullshit-fukcccc.html' title='crap bullshit fukcccc'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-8099180236678564958</id><published>2011-01-30T10:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-30T11:27:53.338-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>mike and i talked this friday and everything went wrong. i think he is right about me. im being a freak. i dont know, is loving him much makes me a freak? does asking him honest questions makes me a freak. we can never be on the same page because he lives in the present and i live in the future. and whenever we get into an argument; we pull each other away farther. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;and then i realized, im hurting myself whenever he says something that i dont want to hear. and i know i've been wrong about expecting too much from him. i should've  loved him and understand him and not pressure him. Im so embarrassed about all of the things i did to him and i know it changes everything. nothing last forever. i love him but he doesnt deserve someone like me. so from now on, im not disturbing him anymore and let him continue his life because i don't want him to be miserable with me. for the mean time, i'll try my very hardest to stand on my own, accept the truth and start living life again, hoping that someone will come in the right place and the right time... or just enjoy being myself. i think i need to love myself before loving others. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;i just wish that in time i'd be able to forgive myself for my faults and shortcomings and be happy again and appreciate life. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;in God i trust&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-8099180236678564958?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8099180236678564958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8099180236678564958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/01/mike-and-i-talked-this-friday-and.html' title=''/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-5066704048179005655</id><published>2011-01-26T12:57:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-30T09:57:00.610-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;its a very rainy start of the year and i wonder what the rain means ... i hope it means blessings :) been trying to be strong here on my own without depending my emotion to the existence of mike. he's gone forever and i should remember that and pray for the better. im kind of angry because i feel like im at fault. Im so tired with all these fuck up emotions that this has caused me. I feel so lost wanting him in my life so bad and wanting to just start all over again.. alone. im kind of confuse. I know it takes time and it cant happen overnight. I just have to stick to my decision and help myself as to what and where i should wanna go.. i just needed to be strong....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-5066704048179005655?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/5066704048179005655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/5066704048179005655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/01/its-very-rainy-start-of-year-and-i.html' title=''/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-4355656486108919639</id><published>2011-01-17T18:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-17T18:51:51.969-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i gotta move on</title><content type='html'>The pain is still raw and im nothing but confuse. I don't know where to start, how to start.. im nothing. I emailed Mike if we can still be together but I know he understood my point clearly when i broke up with him. I am debating with the pros and cons if i continue to have a relationship with him. I don't feel special anymore but I kind of need him because he is my only friend who genuinely listen to me; and my life kinda revolves around him already. I so damn miss him; the times we spend together, how we just chat about everything. I'm so deeply hurt because I feel like Im being selfish at this time; i feel like i left him just like that. fuck this. im so miserable!! pesteh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-4355656486108919639?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4355656486108919639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4355656486108919639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-gotta-move-on.html' title='i gotta move on'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-2561770446608627495</id><published>2011-01-15T11:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-15T11:02:00.343-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i think i just have to write and write until the hurt is gone :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-2561770446608627495?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2561770446608627495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2561770446608627495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-think-i-just-have-to-write-and-write.html' title=''/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-1801799867417876280</id><published>2011-01-14T21:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-15T10:41:34.050-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;dear Mike, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;      this has been the hardest decision of my life. i've been thinking hard about it ever since when i started to feel like our relationship stagnates. i'd love to give everything i have for you and i would even love to give u the understanding that you definitely deserve. but i know deep in my heart how i tried so hard to be strong, i knw that ive been putting aside my frustrations and anxieties because i dont want to jeopardize our relationship and i dont want u to worry about me. i dont want u to know how scared i am because i dont want u to think anything else but ur training and urself. on ur part, i know how precious were the times that you always spend with me. Now that were over, I wanna remember the times  when u were tired but still you go online because you dont want to upset me. Everything we had could've been perfect because I know we love each other so much. But i hope you understand that I happen to arrive at a point where I kept on asking myself, "how bout me?" It hurts me so much because I don't want to leave you because if i have the choice, I'd stay with you all the way; but im thinking about myself too. I can't be depress all the time in my life, i can't be anxious all the time, i can't be scared always in thinking about us. It hurts me when were together because I know im gunna be holding on to something that is unsure but it hurts me more now that i realized you might have to think that just like the others, i left you. I wanna prove to you that I am staying with you but it takes alot of strength and I don't have that anymore... I hope that in time we'll meet again; another time and a little more perfect place. u take care and i love you &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-1801799867417876280?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1801799867417876280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/1801799867417876280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/01/dear-mike-this-has-been-hardest.html' title=''/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-5175293047919110947</id><published>2011-01-05T17:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-05T18:04:32.573-08:00</updated><title type='text'>a real tear jerker</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand  and said, I've got something to tell you. She sat down and ate quietly.  Again I observed the hurt in her eyes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Suddenly I didn't  know how to open my mouth. But I had to let... her know what I was  thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the topic calmly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;She didn't seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I  avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the  chopsticks and shouted at me, you are not a man! That night, we didn't  talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what  had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory  answer; she had lost my heart to Jane. I didn't love her anymore. I  just pitied her!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a  divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car,  and 30% stake of my company.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;She glanced at it and then  tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with  me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources  and energy but I could not take back what I had said for I loved Jane so  dearly. Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had  expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea  of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer  and clearer now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;The next day, I came back home very late  and found her writing something at the table. I didn't have supper but  went straight to sleep and fell asleep very fast because I was tired  after an eventful day with Jane.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did not care so I turned over and was asleep again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;In  the morning she presented her divorce conditions: she didn't want  anything from me, but needed a month's notice before the divorce. She  requested that in that one month we both struggle to live as normal a  life as possible. Her reasons were simple: our son had his exams in a  month's time and she didn't want to disrupt him with our broken  marriage.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;This was agreeable to me. But she had something  more, she asked me to recall how I had carried her into out bridal room  on our wedding day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;She requested that every day for the  month's duration I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door ever  morning. I thought she was going crazy. Just to make our last days  together bearable I accepted her odd request.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I told Jane  about my wife's divorce conditions. . She laughed loudly and thought it  was absurd. No matter what tricks she applies, she has to face the  divorce, she said scornfully.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;My wife and I hadn't had any  body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So  when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our  son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mommy in his arms. His words  brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then  to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed  her eyes and said softly; don't tell our son about the divorce. I  nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;the door. She went to wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;On  the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my  chest. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I  hadn't looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she  was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair  was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute I  wondered what I had done to her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;On the fourth day, when I  lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman  who had given ten years of her life to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;On the fifth  and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I  didn't tell Jane about this. It became easier to carry her as the month  slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;She  was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses  but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have  grown bigger. I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin, that was  the reason why I could carry her more easily.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Suddenly it  hit me... she had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart.  Subconsciously I reached out and touched her head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Our son  came in at the moment and said, Dad, it's time to carry mom out. To  him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential  part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged  him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change  my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from  the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand  surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was  just like our wedding day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;But her much lighter weight  made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly  move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, I  hadn't noticed that our life lacked intimacy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I drove to  office.... jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was  afraid any delay would make me change my mind...I walked upstairs. Jane  opened the door and I said to her, Sorry, Jane, I do not want the  divorce anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;She looked at me, astonished, and then  touched my forehead. Do you have a fever? She said. I moved her hand off  my head. Sorry, Jane, I said, I won't divorce. My marriage life was  boring probably because she and I didn't value the details of our lives,  not because we didn't love each other anymore. Now I realize that since  I carried her into my home on our wedding day I am supposed to hold her  until death do us apart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Jane seemed to suddenly wake up.  She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears.  I walked downstairs and drove away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;At the floral shop on  the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The salesgirl  asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, I'll carry you  out every morning until death do us apart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands, a smile on my face, I run up stairs, only to find my wife in the bed - dead.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;My  wife had been fighting CANCER for months and I was so busy with Jane to  even notice. She knew that she would die soon and she wanted to save me  from the whatever negative reaction from our son, in case we push thru  with the divorce.-- At least, in the eyes of our son--- I'm a loving  husband....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;The small details of your lives are what  really matter in a relationship. It is not the mansion, the car,  property, the money in the bank. These create an environment conducive  for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves. So find time to  be your spouse's friend and do those little things for each other that  build intimacy. Do have a real happy marriage!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;If you don't share this, nothing will happen to you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;If you do, you just might save a marriage.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Many of life's failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;A CHRIST-CENTERED MARRIAGE IS A MARRIAGE THAT IS SURE TO LAST A LIFETIME.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;b&gt;So then, they are no longer two but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let not man separate. Matthew 19:6&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;b&gt;                                                                                                   -Anonymous&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-5175293047919110947?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/5175293047919110947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/5175293047919110947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/01/real-tear-jerker.html' title='a real tear jerker'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-4691632256444640293</id><published>2011-01-04T05:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-04T06:40:43.198-08:00</updated><title type='text'>deep within</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;My thoughts have been constantly floating in my mind for a long time now and i just couldn't figure out what should i write to save them from overflowing. There are alot of things that i keep thinking about. One is about my family-- which could consist of alot of things like how bless i am to have them, one would be about my thoughts at work and lastly about how i just wanted to cope with my longing for Mike by writing my feelings down.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;One of the things I've been meaning to write about are the things that I learn from loving Mike. My situation is not normal to whatever is the general perception of the public about "romantic relationship". I've been talking to someone who is a complete stranger to me, to someone I haven't met in real person and I've been giving him enormous amount of my time, my ideals and dreams and most of all, my heart and mind to the extent that i'm willing to give him my soul. I'm so much ready for him to be my real life partner as I've been alone for quite sometime now. And I just know; though he's not the perfect man I'm willing to take the risk. I love him and there's no doubt about that but from what I heard from last week's mass, every one has his own suffering. All of us have our own piece of suffering but I don't think its given to us for the purpose of suffering itself but perhaps for the purpose of being wiser, stronger and to give us a clue that a meaningful life is all about having faith  and how far that faith will take you plus the action you take to materialize your aspirations in life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;I haven't had enough experiences when it comes to relationships because we physically don't have contact to one another. We can't (unfortunately) do things together, I can't recall any memorable experiences since what we do is just talk online. But what we do is rely into each others words, trust our instincts and spend time almost every day. Though its not the conventional way of dating, i felt it all real.  It's like the concept of God in my life. I can't see him but he is a big part of who I am and i love Him. I know Mike is there too and time will tell if God would plan us to meet one day. This whole thing taught me to WAIT and to trust God. But sometimes, when I am in the deepest of my miseries, I can't help but rationalize if this is still BELIEVABLE. 6 years and still nothing has changed. 6 years, and now he is serving in the military for another 4 years. I don't have anything for me to cover all the pain and miseries wondering if everything will work out because I badly wanted him but all i have are prayers. I know He answers our prayers its just that sometimes it might be a NO and I'm trying to get ready for it too. It helped me for all this time. God sees the bigger picture and i trust Him. It is just rightful to Trust Him in things like this. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;For the mean time while im waiting, I make better of myself by doing what is best for me. I learned to stand by my own, entered the corporate world and though sometimes i'm depressed with our situation, i could still carry on by finding humour about everything. My sunny disposition helped me put up with my sadness whenever I feel like my chances are low in getting the man that I want. For the record, i have never wanted anyone badly as this. It's a magical feeling that deep down inside you, you are sure that he is the man you wanted to grow with and grow old with despite of their past, your differences, and the attitude. I know Mike and I complimented well and Im nothing but excited to meet him one day if God and opportunity permits. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;I trust you Lord to give me more strength to carry on. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-4691632256444640293?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4691632256444640293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4691632256444640293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2011/01/deep-within.html' title='deep within'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-3363886725393542617</id><published>2010-12-28T14:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-28T14:38:24.399-08:00</updated><title type='text'>letting go...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I've been meaning to let go of him. Most of my thoughts is about letting him go and living without my dream of meeting him someday. I love him so much more than life but I feel like its definitely time for me to let go of him. I've been miserable, i've been begging for his mercy to trust me, to treat me right, to make me feel special, i've been expecting that my ait won't be too long from now. 6 years, and i know  i have to loosen up even though it means living without a dream no more, living without my love and moving on and praying hard that I can get through all of this alone. They say, if you love someone you gotta set them free. He needed to be free from someone so uptight like me, he needed to be free and have more time for himself, he needed to be free from responsibility of saving up and meeting me one day. and as much as he needed to be free from me, I know I needed to let go and free myself from the miseries. im not comfortable with our situation anymore, I can't have a day without talking to him and i know there will come a day that this will have to stop and i would need to live my life alone. There's no room for positivity in me anymore, i used it all up and i can't get any support from him with all this. I'm tired and i wanna let go. It hurts so much its killing me and i know i have to die to let him go because he's been my love and my life... and he shouldn't be. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-3363886725393542617?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/3363886725393542617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/3363886725393542617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/12/letting-go.html' title='letting go...'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-8530817540814933242</id><published>2010-12-27T13:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-27T13:26:11.397-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I wish...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;I've been alone for many years and I wish someone would treat me special. Whenever they ask me if I have a boyfriend, I say NO because Mike is not with me, he doesn't give me stuff which I can show to my friends. I don't have anything to let them see that he exists. We don't have memories together, we dont have anything. But why would i even waste effort in proving to them all these. why does it even hurt. Maybe im convincing myself and not them... I have alot of things in mind that I wish I can say to Mike but I know i cant dictate a person on how they would like to treat me. I just wish that one day in time, even just for a day, I would feel special to someone. I want to be recognized by him with my efforts, I want him to comfort me because I want to let him know that its not easy falling in love with someone who can never be mine. Its easy to say to just leave him alone and start  all over again but its so damn hard. I would die in heart ache. I know he cant make me feel special I just pray to God that HE would give me more strength to endure this and the gift of understanding that love is not about receiving but its all about giving...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-8530817540814933242?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8530817540814933242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8530817540814933242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-wish.html' title='I wish...'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-9025190821072189938</id><published>2010-12-27T13:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-27T13:16:44.156-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Mike,</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Merry Christmas Baby. I am glad that we are still holding on despite of the hardships of being apart and not having enough time for each other. Thank you for the time you spent with me. For the kindness you've shown and by listening to me and for letting me feel that I got you on my back. Thank you for being a friend, for not letting go of me even when you feel like you already  have to. I also would like to say sorry if i caused you stress, im sorry if  I demand alot from you. I never intended to bring any troubles to you and I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. I know you don't like drama. I wish I can set aside my feelings and not think about the future so that I wont feel anxious with all of these. i'll try to not bring it up again and I'll try to be strong for us and I hope that you will be strong for yourself as you will leave again anytime soon. I wish you all the best even if it doesn't include me on it. After all i think that's what matters the most when you love someone so much. I pray hard that we could together endure the hardships in this relationship and someday find each others' arms. iloveyou and you know that...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-9025190821072189938?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/9025190821072189938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/9025190821072189938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/12/dear-mike.html' title='Dear Mike,'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-3259231197660536783</id><published>2010-12-27T12:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-27T12:33:12.221-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AusRcivpPQ8/TRj39FYUqfI/AAAAAAAAAVo/txPacf8mFYg/s1600/collage1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AusRcivpPQ8/TRj39FYUqfI/AAAAAAAAAVo/txPacf8mFYg/s400/collage1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555462769149782514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;b&gt;I'm not feeling any younger every Christmas and the more I get to realize it, the more I understand that the usual excitement I always feel when I was a kid about Christmas won't come again but all they were are memories that I could keep forever. The crisp joy of having to open gifts on Christmas eve, the long vacation from school, the vacation itself, and the food. This Christmas, I felt a little different because the Mirafuentes clan decided to go away with gift-giving but decided to spend Christmas with the less fortunate kids and toddlers. We also came up with the same shirt designed by my cousin. I so love the Christmas '10!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AusRcivpPQ8/TRj00tCwJdI/AAAAAAAAAVg/fMKuVs8OsiY/s1600/untitled.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AusRcivpPQ8/TRj00tCwJdI/AAAAAAAAAVg/fMKuVs8OsiY/s400/untitled.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555459326643021266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-3259231197660536783?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/3259231197660536783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/3259231197660536783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/12/christmas.html' title='Christmas'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AusRcivpPQ8/TRj39FYUqfI/AAAAAAAAAVo/txPacf8mFYg/s72-c/collage1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-8746149996127629709</id><published>2010-12-11T21:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T21:29:15.247-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>when is the right time to let go? :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-8746149996127629709?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8746149996127629709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8746149996127629709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/12/when-is-right-time-to-let-go.html' title=''/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-8073388151739899364</id><published>2010-12-05T18:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-05T19:00:33.766-08:00</updated><title type='text'>crying</title><content type='html'>Im so tired of crying my heart out. I wish i can just hit my head just for once so that I would realize that not all things last forever. Im hurting because I still love him so much. I feel like he doesnt have the time anymore and I can't comfort myself that everything will be fine because I dont feel like its gunna be fine. I hope i could just forgive and forget. I pray that i wont be too hard with myself and to him. I wish I knew how to handle this well. I miss spending time with him and talking with him. I feel so alone and Im wishing there could be someone who would like to spend time with me and listen to me and be there for me. I thought it would be Mike but i know he is busy with his new life right now whom i thought I would still be part of, but all along i was so wrong. God Help me through this. I need you in times like this T_T&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-8073388151739899364?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8073388151739899364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8073388151739899364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/12/crying.html' title='crying'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-567959549272792033</id><published>2010-12-05T17:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-05T18:37:02.789-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tandy's Wedding</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AusRcivpPQ8/TPxHV7nJG7I/AAAAAAAAAU8/lLSocmOo_NU/s400/tandy%2B0381.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547387283118300082" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 304px; " /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; "&gt;It was good seeing friends again last night in Siao’s wedding. After college, we’ve been busy with our individual lives that we can’t even gather ourselves for a simple dinner or night out without conflict of schedules. We were those college students but now I can’t believe that we’re all gathered again (unfortunately without Nikko’s presence) not for some school party or night out but for Siao’s wedding; the girl we expect to get married first among all of us! I realized that we are indeed growing up and some might be going on the same route for marriage life. I am truly happy to see my friends again and of course, to see Siao with a new and loving family. She will be giving birth in 4 months! We may be attending a baptism any time real soon! Mean while, here are some of our pics. Enjoy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AusRcivpPQ8/TPxL7FjuA0I/AAAAAAAAAVU/YQ9XWnoPm9I/s400/tandy%2B120.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547392319489966914" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   &gt;with the Groom Kent and lovely Bride Tandy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AusRcivpPQ8/TPxK9jEKcGI/AAAAAAAAAVM/di92-QGtroY/s400/tandy%2B044.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547391262258786402" /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Cris being funny&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AusRcivpPQ8/TPxJLRXnjfI/AAAAAAAAAVE/8BOF-0dJ0dg/s400/tandy%2B078.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547389299003461106" /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;EVENT ORGANIZERS: just posing at the entrance: while waiting for the guest to come&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-567959549272792033?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/567959549272792033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/567959549272792033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/12/tandys-wedding.html' title='Tandy&apos;s Wedding'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AusRcivpPQ8/TPxHV7nJG7I/AAAAAAAAAU8/lLSocmOo_NU/s72-c/tandy%2B0381.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-7719455811580349052</id><published>2010-11-28T20:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-05T18:35:35.529-08:00</updated><title type='text'>alone</title><content type='html'>mike and i have been lately fighting. it hurts me so much bec i feel like whatever i do; i can't bring him to be gentle on me. i feel like he didnt care what ive been through when he joined the military. ive been crying and ive been confuse, been botttling this all up by myself. i never showed that each day of waiting and hoping; that my heart brittles. i wanna hold on and be strong for our relationship but i end up feeling nothing but self pity. sometimes i just needed him to remind me to hold on just like before. he wants me to be strong but now when i cant take it anymore, he pushes me away&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-7719455811580349052?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/7719455811580349052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/7719455811580349052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/11/alone.html' title='alone'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-2799401060828931743</id><published>2010-11-20T12:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-20T13:50:15.769-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Help me God</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;There will always be something that is missing in this life. I've been trying to rationalize this sad truth; and it comforted me to know that it is part of being human. We are never complete; as we live in this world, we seek... We are in a journey that only time can tell and only us can decide on how to go over about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;I take my case as an example; I wish to have a happy family. We are happy despite of the imperfections, we are together despite of our differences and I guess for now that's all that matters. Even when I have my family with me, I still seek for my mother to change whatever bad attitude she has that I don't really like. There will always be times when I just cant stand her but it doesnt mean that I dont love her. I do, its me and her (human)-- being imperfect that makes me seek  more from her. And i know even when I am certain that i cant change her; in the back of my head i still hope or even sigh for it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;I have a job that everybody thinks that I am lucky enough because I get paid big. Truth is, its not big compared to what they think. But I am happy because I feel like I was hired in this "company" they think that only smart people can get in. I feel proud of myself and of course thankful. I dont know if I'm ungrateful enough but I keep on complaining about my traveling situation to and from work. I also can't rent a room because it will be more costly for me. But I always get a grip of myself and remind myself that I am lucky to have a good job. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;I'm supposedly perfect but then again, im not. Nobody is. I wish despite of the imperfections, i find myself to be happy and much more thankful. Contented and carefree; to have a peace of mind. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;I lastly wish that God will give me someone that could take care of my heart. I've been alone and been wishing secretly that someone would take away my sadness and makes me feel special. I wish it would be Mike but i know he can't give me that. Not because he is busy but because he just cant. I greatly understand our situation; that it will take alot of time for us to be together but for the past months, I never felt wanted anymore by him. I didn't feel important anymore and I need it to sustain myself and to get away from the hurt of not being with him. At least, i am praying that he would remind me i am missed, I am special. What hurts me most is not the physical distance between us but I hate the fact that he seemed to be distant anymore. Whatever I do to be gentle on the situation; he still kept on pulling away and what's worst even when it friggin hurts me, I still persist. Lord God, I never loved this way in my entire life, please let me know if i have to go away... Please give me more strength to hold on and to extend my patience and understanding. Please guard my heart from more pain. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-2799401060828931743?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2799401060828931743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2799401060828931743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/11/help-me-god.html' title='Help me God'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-8236373532619496097</id><published>2010-11-18T18:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-18T19:20:06.414-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear ....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;There are times when I hate myself because I just dont know what to do. I wish whenever I ran into something new someone can tell me what's the right thing to do. We've been cold with each other lately. I knew I had expressed myself that I am tired of this already.  I mean it, but it's the last thing I wanna say. I'm tired of missing you. Above all, Im tired of being scared. I know what you've been undergoing for months is overwhelming and drastic. I know I should extend my patience more when  you can't be with me like you used to. I've been trying my best to set aside my feelings  but still there are times when I find myself asking, "What about me?".  You dont remember our anniversary, you forgot my birthday.  Im thinking you are just tired and stressed from training but then again my mind would let it pass but my heart can't. You don't like me asking you questions, you leave me whenever you dont like it anymore, you pull away when I feel upset when all I want is for you to comfort me even just for a while. I just needed to be assured that everything will be fine. That you don't mean to hurt me  whenever we have an argument but I know i'd be foolish to expect that. I know our limitations, i just don't know how to handle this heavy hearted feeling of mine. I want to pull away but it hurts but when i try to understand you and forget about my feelings, it still hurts me. I'm pulling away to see if you'll pull me back but i now see you drifting away...&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/7813109281959009869-8236373532619496097?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8236373532619496097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/8236373532619496097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/11/dear.html' title='Dear ....'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-773291534552188046</id><published>2010-11-14T12:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-14T13:07:57.658-08:00</updated><title type='text'>mumbles heard from a bored person</title><content type='html'>im scAred of being alone. its funny coz i like being alone but it hurts me being that way. im a masochist maybe... its just that when im alone i would have the time to examine myself and i will start asking lotsa questions. questions that im avoiding and answers that are fAr from being possible.  just like now, ive been asking myself if whose goin to take care of me when everyone i knew has someone to take care  already. im asking  if i would have the love that i deserve. im asking how much longer is the need to wait or will i be love in return? will it still come? being the libra girl that i am,  i always give justice to both sides of the story, mayybe that's why im patient like this. sometimes, i just would like to be the right person instead of waiting for whoever iis mr. right... but half of the time, i would wish someone will make me feel im special too... i just need that one little act.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-773291534552188046?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/773291534552188046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/773291534552188046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/11/mumbles-heard-from-bored-person.html' title='mumbles heard from a bored person'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-4835149235100707320</id><published>2010-11-07T12:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-07T12:07:09.443-08:00</updated><title type='text'>waiting is a mystery</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 21px; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;Author: Napoleon Gonzales III&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;Waiting is a mystery - a natural sacrament of life - there is a meaning hidden in all the times we have to wait. It must be an important mystery because there is so much waiting in our lives. Everyday is filled with those little moments of waiting (testing our patience and our nerves, schooling us in self-control.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;We wait for meals to be served, for a letter to arrive, for a friend to call or show up for a date. We wait in line at cinemas and theaters. Our airline terminals, railway stations and bus depots are great temples of waiting filled with men and women who wait in joy for the arrival of a loved one - or wait in sadness to say goodbye. And we wait for ourselves to grow from childhood to maturity. We wait for those inner voices that tell us when we are ready for the next stop. We wait for graduation, for our first job, our first promotion. We wait for success and recognition. We wait to grow up - to reach the stage where we make our own decisions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;We cannot remove this waiting from our lives. It is a part of the tapestry of living - the fabric in which the threads are woven to tell the story of our lives.Yet current philosophies would have us forget the need to wait - Instant pleasure, instant transcendence. Do not wait for anything. Life is short - eat, drink and be merry because tomorrow you will die.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;And so they rationalize us into accepting unlicensed and irresponsible freedom- they warn against attachments and commitments - against expecting anything of anybody, or allowing them to expect anything of us - against dropping any anchors in the currents of our life that will cause us to hold and wait. This may be the correct prescription for pleasure - but even that is fleeting and doubtful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;If we wish to be real human beings, spirit as well as flesh, soul as well as heart, we have to learn to wait. For if we never learn to wait, we will never learn to love someone other than ourselves. But most of all, waiting means waiting for someone else. It is a mystery, brushing by our face everyday like a stray leaf falling from a tree.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;Anyone who has loved knows how much waiting goes into it - how much waiting is important for love to grow, to flourish through a lifetime.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;Why is this? Why can't we have it right now, what we so desperately want and need? Why must we wait - two years, three years - and seemingly waste so much time? You might as well ask why a tree should take so long to bear fruits - the seed to flower - carbon to change to diamond.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;There is no simple answer - no more than there is to life's other demands - having to say goodbye to someone you love because either you or they have made other commitments or because they have to grow and find the meaning of their own lives - you having to leave home and loved ones to find your own path. Good-byes, like waiting, are also sacraments of our lives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;All we know is that growth - the budding, the flowering of love needs patient waiting. We have to give each other a time to grow. There is no way we can make someone else truly love us or we them, except through time. So we give each other that mysterious gift of waiting - of being present without asking demands and rewards. There is nothing harder to do than this. It truly tests the depth and sincerity of our love. But there is life in the gift we give.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;So lovers wait for each other - until they can see things the same way - or let each other freely see things in quite different ways. There are times when lovers hurt each other and cannot regain the balance of intimacy of the way they were. They have to wait - in silence - but still present to each other - until the pain subsides to an ache and then only a memory and the threads of the tapestry can be woven together again in a single love story.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;What do we lose when we refuse to wait, when we try to find shortcuts through life - when we try to incubate love and rush blindly and foolishly into a commitment we are neither mature nor responsible enough to assume? We lose the hope of truly loving or of being loved. Think of all the great love stories of history and literature - isn't it of their very essence that they are filled with this strange but common mystery - that waiting is part of the substance - the basic fabric against which the story of that true love is written.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;How can we ever find either life or true love if we are too impatient to wait for it? Waiting is a good thing only if something is worth waiting for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;How will you know if it's worth it? Gut feel. What if you don't trust your gut? Pray. You will be enlightened. Trust me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;Is it wrong to expect while waiting? It's not wrong, but it will increase your chances of heartbreak and disappointment if things don't work out in the end.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;Is it good to expect while waiting? It is better to HOPE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;What's the difference between hoping and expecting? HOPING means you're open to either side of the coin landing though you're more inclined to believe that things will turn out well. EXPECTING means you're thinking single-track, which won't do you much good at all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;What's the difference between waiting and expecting? EXPECTING is waiting for something TO DEFINITELY HAPPEN. WAITING is staying where you are, but not necessarily expecting something to happen definitely.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;Do you need assurance from someone you're waiting for while you're waiting? Ideally, yes. But realistically, do you really want assurance from this person? It's so easy to just point at something and make that the reason why you're waiting ("Because she said..." "Because he told me that...").&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;With WAITING, all you really can rely on are 3 things: your gut feel, your heart and your mind. Just YOURSELF, not anyone else.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; "&gt;So should you wait? What does your gut say? How does your heart feel? What does your mind think? If they're saying different things, keep asking yourself these 3 questions (and pray!) until you get a solid answer. THEN you'll know if he or she is worth waiting for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-4835149235100707320?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4835149235100707320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4835149235100707320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/11/waiting-is-mystery.html' title='waiting is a mystery'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-2267079624237025169</id><published>2010-10-30T14:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-30T14:21:48.189-07:00</updated><title type='text'>work :)</title><content type='html'>Im kind of depress at work coz im not hitting my QA scores. My manager thinks this is because of my jolly character that he thinks is hindering myself from getting the right score he wanted for me. Well, not really for me but for his self too! I don't like how he handles agents, sometimes when were on a meeting, his words are kinda like scripted and too fake. I did not join the team breakfast because of him too. Nah, I wanna keep it civil with him and im trying my fuckin best to hit QA not for him but for myself! -- sometimes, it just doesnt work! Its soo damn frustrating!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-2267079624237025169?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2267079624237025169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/2267079624237025169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/10/work.html' title='work :)'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-4858947225849165714</id><published>2010-10-17T21:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-17T21:37:16.090-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the heart or the mind</title><content type='html'>im stubborn. sometimes it causes me hard feelings, it makes me forget how to care for myself. i dont know what to do. i dont know what lies ahead. i dont know how long i could stay strong and how firm i could stand on my words. nobody could give me exact answers. i just go whatever my heart tells me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my heart says to be patient, my mind says its enough. my heart says its by God's time but my mind tells me that God's answer is already a no. my heart would like to give way and is willing to forget its own sorrows but my mind says its about time to wake up and see reality as it is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-4858947225849165714?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4858947225849165714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4858947225849165714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/10/heart-or-mind.html' title='the heart or the mind'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-4642217344090708068</id><published>2010-10-17T20:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-17T20:59:17.808-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hey its My Birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://api.ning.com/files/PHcPlvaDYMGaNAOFPSECRTcEGBWzmu89rngf9oW4U-0_/HappyBirthdayCake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 360px; height: 480px;" src="http://api.ning.com/files/PHcPlvaDYMGaNAOFPSECRTcEGBWzmu89rngf9oW4U-0_/HappyBirthdayCake.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;hehe.. I wish someone could give me a birthday cake. But its okay. Many had greeted me in facebook just because they see thats it my birthday today but still im happy because of that. 22 years of existence and I feel good about it. Im treating my friends out later at Redbox and hope to have a good time with them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thank you Lord for all the blessings. There are things that frustrates me bec of expectations that hasn't meet.  I wish Mike had prepared a love letter perhaps or emailed me colorful happy birthday text in the email but he completely forgot about my birthday. hehe&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But still,  I thank God for the gift of life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-4642217344090708068?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4642217344090708068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/4642217344090708068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/10/hey-its-my-birthday.html' title='Hey its My Birthday'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-7295305037477612725</id><published>2010-10-10T13:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-10T14:06:24.529-07:00</updated><title type='text'>of my random thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I've looked into myself and I admit that I've been ungrateful for the things and people that I have in my life. I tried to wipe away my miseries by thinking that despite of everything, I still have a beautiful world ahead of me. I knew Im lucky enough to have my family. We're not perfect but its real and I know that I would always have them no matter what. I got my Papa, who simply knows how to fill in what is needed and missing in my life. He would drive me to work or ask me things that I needed so that he would know and have peace in mind that Im alright. How could I ever think of him as bias as I would always think he loves my sister more than he loves me. I think its time to shove that kind of thinking... What I am grateful more is that fact that I have my sister with me. She never judge me and knowing this, I know I will always got her on my back. And the rest is the same with my siblings and mama. I know they will be around and it makes me feel complete having them in my life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I also would like to thank God for the blessings he showered upon me. No, I can't have everything but what He has given me is more than enough. I wish there will come a time when I could give back the blessings God has given me. Im so much thankful that I have to get up every night to work and much more thankful because God always protects me where ever I go even when Im alone. I remembered my customer over the phone, she taught me a prayer; I forgot the words verbatim but its something like, God bless me today and I pray that there's nothing that You and me can't handle. It was a brief yet beautiful prayer. Among all the angry customers I get, I thank God that He routed that single call to me and I get to speak with that lady. Its such a blessing... In addition to that, Im so grateful that I passed QA for the month of September. Truly indeed that God answers prayers . I've been praying for it and working hard on it. I pray God will be with me on this...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I wish I could repay the goodness that the Lord has shown to me. I guess my own share on this would be to try my best to be better everyday. To be courageous to do a little change everyday and to make a good habit out of it. God is good, and thats all i know...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-7295305037477612725?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/7295305037477612725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/7295305037477612725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/10/of-my-random-thoughts.html' title='of my random thoughts'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-3607528966199025122</id><published>2010-10-02T11:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T12:26:51.850-07:00</updated><title type='text'>talking about my Faith</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;We could never be strong enough. There will always be time that regardless of our effort to keep it cool we are affected by things around us. There will always be times that no matter how we put things in the right perspective, we get hurt and we still question them. There will always be that time when after all the brave person that you are, you cry in the middle of the night when everybody is in deep slumber. We try to hide our weaknesses, our fears, our shortcomings pretending to be strong, but are we? Maybe at some point we are on that thought but I realized we could never be strong enough. There will always be a part of us that seeks shelter; where we just lay all of ourselves in confidence and in this imperfect world that we have, I realized that our faith and prayers helps alot. It is knowing that we are nothing if we do not have faith. Faith comes in a different form, whether faith in yourself or in your own beliefs. But the biggest and powerful faith one could ever have is the faith in the Lord. I admit I never  really have it. I was so wrong to not pause, reflect and pray. I was so wrong to not ask HELP from Him thinking I could manage it. I was so wrong to not appreciate the things and the people that I have and the things that I never even have. I  realized that I've been astray and Im so lost without Him. I thought Im strong enough but I never was. Maybe this is one of the pivotal moments in my life, I need God in my life to get through all of these. I need to thank Him for the gift of being alive, for the blessing of having such a great and loving family, for the job that I have right now, for His guidance every time I go to work at night, for the friends whom I love and have, for the beauty in this world. Most especially, I thank Him for giving me Mike, for the pain of holding on and waiting, for always letting me know that tomorrow is full of uncertainties because all of these reminds me that I need God in my life. And with Him, I know it will be alright. I'll rest my future to God... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-3607528966199025122?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/3607528966199025122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/3607528966199025122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/10/talking-about-my-faith.html' title='talking about my Faith'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-9035675688928141040</id><published>2010-09-25T12:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-25T12:50:55.721-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LET</title><content type='html'>I cant sleep and I am a bit nervous. In 3 hours, im goin to take my board exams. I am so not prepared. I have not studied extensively,  im cramming, im not in the right mindset, im tired. Or i dont know, maybe im making up good excuses to comfort myself. im so not prepared. but i do hope that everything will be fine and still, am praying that i would pass. aja!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-9035675688928141040?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/9035675688928141040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/9035675688928141040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/09/let.html' title='LET'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-5299205546031552280</id><published>2010-09-05T10:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-05T10:53:59.786-07:00</updated><title type='text'>weekends and worlds apart</title><content type='html'>i hope that the next time that  i post something here, i would be a completely different person. With a different perspective in life; stronger...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-5299205546031552280?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/5299205546031552280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/5299205546031552280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/09/weekends-and-worlds-apart.html' title='weekends and worlds apart'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-9004069564977431089</id><published>2010-09-05T09:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-05T09:37:42.028-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Message in a Bottle, A Letter to Catherine</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;July 22, 1997&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Dearest Catherine,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you my darling as I always do, but today is especially hard because the ocean has been singing to me, and the song is that of our life together. I cam almost feel you beside me as I write this letter, and I can smell the scent of wildflowers that always reminds me of you. But at this moment, these things give me no pleasure. Your visits have been coming less often, and I feel sometimes as if the greatest part of who I am is slowly slipping away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am trying, though. At night when I am alone, I call for you, and whenever my ache seems to be the greatest, you still seem to find a may to return to me. Last night, in my dreams, I saw you on the pier near Wrightsville Beach. The wind was blowing through your hair, and your eyes held the fading sun light. I am struck as I see you leaning against the rail. You are beautiful, I think I see you, a vision that I can never find in anyone else. I slowly begin to walk toward you, and when you finally turn to me, I notice that others have been watching you as well. "Do you know her?" they ask me in jealous whispers, and as you smile at me, I simply answer back with the truth. "Better than my own heart."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stop when I reach you and take you in my arms. I long for this moment more than any other. It is what I live for, and when you return my embrace, I give myself over to this moment, at peace once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I raise my head and gently touch your cheek and you tilt your head and close your eyes. My hands are hard and your skin is soft, and I wonder for a moment if you'll pull back, but of course you don't. You never have, and it is at times like this that I know what my purpose is in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am here to love you, to hold you in my arms, to protect you. I am here to learn from you and to receive your love in return. I am here because there is no other place to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, as always, the mist starts to form as we stand close to one another. It is a distant fog that rises from the horizon, and I find that I grow fearful as it approaches. It slowly creeps in, enveloping the world around us, fencing us in as if to prevent escape. Like a rolling cloud, it blankets everything, closing, until there is nothing left but the two of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel my throat begin to close and my eyes well-up with tears because I know it is time for you to go. The look you give me at that moment haunts me. I feel your sadness and my own loneliness, and the ache in my heart that had been silent for only a short time grows stronger as you release me. And then you spread your arms and step back into the fog because it is your place and not mine. I long to go with you, but your only response is to shake your head because we both know that is impossible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I watch with breaking heart as you slowly fade away. I find myself straining to remember everything about this moment, everything about you. But soon, always too soon, your image vanishes and the fog rolls back to its faraway place and I am alone on the pier and I do not care what others think as I bow my head and cry and cry and cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Garrett&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:85%;"&gt;Excerpted from MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE © Copyright 1998 by Nicholas Sparks. Reprinted with permission by Warner Vision. All rights reserved.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-9004069564977431089?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/9004069564977431089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/9004069564977431089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/09/message-in-bottle-letter-to-catherine.html' title='Message in a Bottle, A Letter to Catherine'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-9117752733403181771</id><published>2010-08-22T11:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-22T11:55:13.207-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my piece of one sweet love ♥</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash2/hs198.ash2/46118_1467081831718_1073708639_31225588_7820139_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 477px; height: 640px;" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash2/hs198.ash2/46118_1467081831718_1073708639_31225588_7820139_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This song reminds me so much of Mike. I love him so much...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;object style="background-image:url(http://i3.ytimg.com/vi/rAq2VGnMX6Q/hqdefault.jpg)" width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rAq2VGnMX6Q?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rAq2VGnMX6Q?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" width="480" height="295" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-9117752733403181771?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/9117752733403181771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/9117752733403181771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/08/one-sweet-love-sara-bareilles-lyrics.html' title='my piece of one sweet love ♥'/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7813109281959009869.post-900301317032921148</id><published>2010-08-22T11:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-22T11:50:24.271-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AusRcivpPQ8/THFxUpmz8RI/AAAAAAAAAUA/zo5SlkXfHfo/s1600/fgf.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 142px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AusRcivpPQ8/THFxUpmz8RI/AAAAAAAAAUA/zo5SlkXfHfo/s200/fgf.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508308418830790930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7813109281959009869-900301317032921148?l=pentaxine.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/900301317032921148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7813109281959009869/posts/default/900301317032921148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pentaxine.blogspot.com/2010/08/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>the last bipolar lioness</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00589569722643124435</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lMFOI6jhtok/Tv9dZgjoLNI/AAAAAAAAAdY/EbWW6HCUgEY/s220/378089_315566298476383_100000690457154_1033332_1406597342_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AusRcivpPQ8/THFxUpmz8RI/AAAAAAAAAUA/zo5SlkXfHfo/s72-c/fgf.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry></feed>
