<?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-13607901</id><updated>2011-11-27T02:24:18.357-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reality Check!</title><subtitle type='html'>get a dose of me...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>250</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-2786967856287977396</id><published>2011-07-17T03:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-17T03:29:03.469-07:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>Dear God,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Help me withstand this loneliness. I feel tired and lost. I don't know why it feels like it's not fun to live at all. Everyday feels like a chore and I'm aching for time to pass me by quickly. I feel trapped in this materialistic world. I do not like this life. I want to be free. Help me endure this. Make me more patient. Give me hope that things will be better. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-2786967856287977396?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/2786967856287977396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=2786967856287977396' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/2786967856287977396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/2786967856287977396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2011/07/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-2537593962924448185</id><published>2011-05-15T18:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-15T18:06:00.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Come Back</title><content type='html'>I'm finally back.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I'm guilty for not updating this blog. This blog has served like a confidante. We've been together for almost 6 years and it feels like we're in this kind of long distance relationship. Crazy 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;It has been 6 years and I find myself continuously changing - from being a girl who'd bravely write down her thoughts to a woman who'd rather keep things to herself.  It's healthy and unhealthy at the same time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Since I've been away, I find myself less pessimistic about life. I try my best to see the goodness in everything even if it can really be quite challenging at times. I'm less "connected" now than I was years ago. I'm keeping just a few good friends and is staying away from the loud crowd. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Golly. Now I'm really growing old. :) At 25, I'm still aiming for a lot of things- having my own business (make up and a buy/sell), traveling and aiming to buy my own house. It's still going to be a long ride.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;After months of being away, I'm still the workaholic person that I am. Well, it lessened a BIT because I got to a point wherein I'm already just hating it. Think BURNT OUT. But I guess, it's all about doing things in moderation. Work moderately and have fun moderately. Too much fun can also spell BOREDOM. Well at least for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Still young, have lots of experimenting to do. I'm keeping another blog. It's a lot less personal than this. I'm even thinking of starting up a youtube channel because I'm seemingly addicted to it. Crazy. Well, I'll let you know if it ever pushes through. We'll keep it a secret. I don't think I can openly tell everyone that I have a youtube channel. harhar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Til then. Til then. Tomorrow's another day. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-2537593962924448185?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/2537593962924448185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=2537593962924448185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/2537593962924448185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/2537593962924448185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2011/05/come-back.html' title='A Come Back'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-4389730839606595556</id><published>2011-02-18T20:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-18T20:25:00.409-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank You</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; "&gt;I'm dead sick with flu today but I'll never forget these words:&lt;div&gt;"I will take good care of youm love you and make sure you won't hurt and sick, I will protect you with my life." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sent: Feb. 18, 2011  6:01PM&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now every time I get sick, I'll get to remember this. &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/13607901-4389730839606595556?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/4389730839606595556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=4389730839606595556' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4389730839606595556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4389730839606595556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2011/02/thank-you.html' title='Thank You'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-4320477732748960867</id><published>2011-02-02T20:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-02T20:49:00.498-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hot Air Balloon on Valentine's Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TUlMjDHFz3I/AAAAAAAAANM/iL5nSxRmPQU/s1600/hot-air-balloon-ride-7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 418px; height: 334px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TUlMjDHFz3I/AAAAAAAAANM/iL5nSxRmPQU/s320/hot-air-balloon-ride-7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569066579234508658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I will be asked how I want to spend this year's Valentine's Day, I'd say I'll go for a hot air balloon ride. I don't mind if it's in the morning, afternoon or evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I kinda feel bad tonight. Even though it's not yet Valentine's Day, for some reason I feel that I badly want to celebrate it. It's not that I simply want to follow the fad but it feels good when someone does something extra special just to make you happy on that day. I sound like a sucker for romantic things right now but yes... I like romantic things and I enjoy surprises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't have to have a lot of money just to be romantic. It's merely pure effort and creativity --- which leads me to why I am upset tonight. He has got NO plans for Valentine's DAY!! He said he just doesn't celebrate it ever since. I don't believe that. I DON'T. Oh well, even though I don't believe in it I'm planning on shutting up and  getting over this whole Valentine thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it's normal to feel upset because I expected TOO DAMN MUCH again and yes, I am DISAPPOINTED again. Looking at the brighter side of this, at least I've gotten to know him better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call me an idiot but my heart feels like crushing as I type on the keyboard right now. It sounds idealistic but if you value someone so much, you'll at least try to do the things that she's interested in or that she wants to do. Been there, done that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing is, I've decided not to mope at home on Valentine's Day. I'll probably  (1) go out with my friends after work (2)ask someone out (3) go out with someone who asked me out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I am not worth exerting any effort on then I don't care. If you opt not to prepare for Valentine's day, then it's your loss because you just might not be granted another chance to spend another Valentine's day with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't settle for anything/anyone less. Why? Because I know I work to death to please the person I love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Been there. Done that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-4320477732748960867?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/4320477732748960867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=4320477732748960867' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4320477732748960867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4320477732748960867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2011/02/hot-air-balloon-on-valentines-day.html' title='Hot Air Balloon on Valentine&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TUlMjDHFz3I/AAAAAAAAANM/iL5nSxRmPQU/s72-c/hot-air-balloon-ride-7.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-7549160545555735815</id><published>2011-01-27T05:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-27T05:29:18.911-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My birthday tomorrow and a ring</title><content type='html'>I was surprised when he gave the ring. We were casually scanning some books at the store when he pulled out something from his left pocket and gave me the ring. It was a silver ring and it was just the right fit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was surprised. I think I said that already. The ring was silver - a typical wedding ring with something carved inside it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ring was simple.. it was ok.. but the carved name and date made it special. :) "CHOY 09 04 20" That was what it said. Even though I'm a sucker for extravagant gifts, this simple ring makes me want to look forward and focus on the future. It made me scared and hopeful. It made me nervous and excited. It made me smile. :)  Once again, I realized that the best things in life are often not wrapped with glittery papers nor colorful ribbons.  The best things in life comes in simple packages.. sometimes it's not even placed inside a small box. Sometimes it's just out there waiting for everyone to see it's goodness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meeting him made me realize a lot of things about life and about myself. I know I am reflective but to actually see and experience another side of life is just... SOMETHING. :) All the while I thought I am that great but during the time we started this friendship I learned that there's so much I have to learn. I feel like a child when I'm with him. A carefree child who's not mindful of how silly she looks even with a missing front tooth or an undone hair. I am happy with the friendship. I am thankful that we became good friends. Hopefully lifetime partners in the future. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TUFuQAILWgI/AAAAAAAAANA/2dPvkthEQPk/s1600/Wedding-Rings2.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/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TUFuQAILWgI/AAAAAAAAANA/2dPvkthEQPk/s320/Wedding-Rings2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566851835597904386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my ideal ring. I prefer wedding ring and engagement ring in gold. :) For wedding ring, I'd like it to be thick and seemingly masculine.  No designs or whatsoever. Weird I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TUFuQHWzkZI/AAAAAAAAAM4/lqdQcs7vUqA/s1600/10%2Bmost%2Bbizarre%2Bwedding%2Brings.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 354px; height: 248px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TUFuQHWzkZI/AAAAAAAAAM4/lqdQcs7vUqA/s320/10%2Bmost%2Bbizarre%2Bwedding%2Brings.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566851837538308498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Saw this while net surfing. Can you believe it? This is a wedding ring!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TUFuP-JqziI/AAAAAAAAAMw/XeV0a8O_dPg/s1600/Hidden-Message-Wedding-Rings-4.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TUFuP-JqziI/AAAAAAAAAMw/XeV0a8O_dPg/s320/Hidden-Message-Wedding-Rings-4.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566851835067289122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one is cool.. there's a hidden message in between the ring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TUFuPsflG3I/AAAAAAAAAMo/6D7jaDLQhf0/s1600/Hidden-Message-Wedding-Rings-1.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 278px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TUFuPsflG3I/AAAAAAAAAMo/6D7jaDLQhf0/s320/Hidden-Message-Wedding-Rings-1.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566851830327352178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how it looks like when the 2 sides of the ring are together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Tomorrow is my birthday!! YEHeY! :D Sing Sing Sing for me! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-7549160545555735815?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/7549160545555735815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=7549160545555735815' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7549160545555735815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7549160545555735815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2011/01/my-birthday-tomorrow-and-ring.html' title='My birthday tomorrow and a ring'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TUFuQAILWgI/AAAAAAAAANA/2dPvkthEQPk/s72-c/Wedding-Rings2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-4846290808487220397</id><published>2011-01-18T17:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-18T17:35:27.469-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Power of Encouragement</title><content type='html'>Dante Gabriel Rossetti, the famous 19th-century poet and artist, was once approached by an elderly man. The old fellow had some sketches and drawings that he wanted Rossetti to look at and tell him if they were any good, or if they at least showed potential talent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rossetti looked them over carefully. After the first few, he knew that they were worthless, showing not the least sign of artistic talent. But Rossetti was a kind man, and he told the elderly man as gently as possible that the pictures were without much value and showed little talent. He was sorry, but he could not lie to the man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The visitor was disappointed, but seemed to expect Rossetti’s judgment. He then apologized for taking up Rossetti?s time, but would he just look at a few more drawings – these done by a young art student?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rossetti looked over the second batch of sketches and immediately became enthusiastic over the talent they revealed. “These,” he said, “oh, these are good. This young student has great talent. He should be given every help and encouragement in his career as an artist. He has a great future if he will work hard and stick to it.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rossetti could see that the old fellow was deeply moved. “Who is this fine young artist?” he asked. “Your son?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No,” said the old man sadly. “It is me – 40 years ago. If only I had heard your praise then! For you see, I got discouraged and gave up – too soon.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--Unknown&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-4846290808487220397?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4846290808487220397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4846290808487220397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2011/01/power-of-encouragement.html' title='The Power of Encouragement'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-7280006381672838969</id><published>2011-01-13T16:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-13T16:54:20.929-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To: Squish</title><content type='html'>Dear Squish,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if you'll ever get to read this but anyway, here it goes. I'm lucky that we have met and we became good friends. Remember when I told you that I'd rather stay as your friend? It's because I think what we have is already great. I guess I just don't want to lose a good friend like you. I'm happy that even though we've fought millions of times, you still haven't given up our friendship. I think that between the two of us, I think you're nicer. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm happy that you visited me in the hotel the last time. I was able to see a different side of you. You seemed a lot happier and friendlier (heheh!). I know you enjoy teasing me and making me annoyed but yeah.. I'll put up with it this time. hehe..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Squish. mwah! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/7XSqo1S9mY8?fs=1" width="425" frameborder="0" height="344"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-7280006381672838969?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/7280006381672838969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=7280006381672838969' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7280006381672838969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7280006381672838969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2011/01/to-squish.html' title='To: Squish'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/7XSqo1S9mY8/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-8077138113087666569</id><published>2011-01-11T20:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-11T20:53:00.810-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The world is a scary place</title><content type='html'>I was venting out my frustrations to someone and the reply that I got was: The world is scary, just always be prepared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I've gotten frustrated even more. Sometimes no matter how prepared you think you are, you can never really be prepared enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been online the whole day trying to look for diversions. I wanted so much to talk to someone. I want anyone to listen and be with me the whole day and just assure me that it will all be fine. Someone who'll tell me that accidents happen, you'll definitely feel pain but like time, the pain passes as well. I wish someone will tell me that it's ok to be scared because I'm not alone and I'll never be alone.&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-8077138113087666569?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/8077138113087666569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=8077138113087666569' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/8077138113087666569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/8077138113087666569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2011/01/world-is-scary-place.html' title='The world is a scary place'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-6261610746360114792</id><published>2011-01-10T21:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-10T21:23:00.318-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear GOD</title><content type='html'>Dear God,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight's not so ok. My injuries hurt and I can barely eat. I had an argument with my mom and I feel bad for being such a coward. Maybe some people were born with high pain tolerance maybe some (like me) are not. In a few days, I'll be meeting the dentist and I have a good feeling that tomorrow I will have to undergo another xray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm scared and I have no one to share this fear with. I have no one but you tonight. I don't feel like sharing this to my friends because they're all kind of busy right now. Some are in the gym, some are with their families, some don't really care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I appreciate my dad a lot because he understands how hard my situation is. I'm still grateful that I continuously witness his goodness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm worried about a lot of things apart from my health. I worry about work and all the things that needed to be done. To be honest, I'm kind of tired. Please give me the strength and courage to carry on. I am only good in helping others but I am not so good in helping myself. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for giving the means to vent this out even through blogging. Although I don't really get a direct feedback, writing it down eases the piled up anxiety in me. Sometimes I miss talking to a counselor or therapist. Even though I'm paying them to talk to me, at least I know they're there to do their job - to listen to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I just need someone who'll listen without judging me. god. Help me. I'm scared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-6261610746360114792?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/6261610746360114792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=6261610746360114792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6261610746360114792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6261610746360114792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2011/01/dear-god.html' title='Dear GOD'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-8147729581652700970</id><published>2011-01-08T21:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-08T21:48:00.667-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One time big time accident</title><content type='html'>I was part of a vehicular accident a day ago and I wouldn't be able to go back to my normal routine in a few days. My face feels numb tho a part of it is aching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really feel like writing down how I look like because it makes me sad just thinking about it. The thought that I need to undergo some things really scares me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not blaming me or anyone for the accident. I just think it's meant to happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've discovered a lot of things after the accident and I became more grateful of the littlest of good things that are happening to me right now. I've never appreciated people that much but yes, it's a turning point I do appreciate a lot of them now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I found my safest place after losing it 5 years ago. I discovered that someone can actually stop my tears from falling. It's a nice and warm feeling knowing that I found my safest place back. And even though I'm not in my best condition right now, I am thankful that God gave me a chance to live and see the goodness in people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It might seem untimely to say this,  but yes.. I think I may be in love and because of the difficult situation that we're in, I choose not to tell him. He'll know probably later on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really like the line "I have fallen in love with you" because it makes things seem accidental. Well, love for me has always been a choice. For the past months, I've been trying to get that lovey dovey thought out of my head although my actions clearly show it. But now, yes.. I'm going to finally admit it to myself- I choose to Love once again. I don't know where this will take me but I want to take it slowly. I would like to enjoy the friendship that we have. Pure acceptance, respect and friendship. Yeah.. friendship. I'd like to start from there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night was just full of revelation. I learned a lot things from him which were supposed to make me feel surprised but yes... Surprisingly.. I just think it's normal and fun. At least I know he's not boring. hehehe..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it's a different story if he does stuff like that at his current age (hoping that he lessened his adventurous side).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now.. I would say I'm scared but that thought that I can finally rely on someone (other than my family and my college friends) comforts me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, please don't send me any more challenges. Let it rest for a while. I'm trying to fight my fears right now. And.. yes, thank you for the biggest blessing you given me. Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-8147729581652700970?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/8147729581652700970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=8147729581652700970' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/8147729581652700970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/8147729581652700970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2011/01/one-time-big-time-accident.html' title='One time big time accident'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-4064076734009142448</id><published>2011-01-01T18:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-01T18:11:00.068-08:00</updated><title type='text'>1-1-11</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TR76X95s_FI/AAAAAAAAAMg/V7ams-NZleE/s1600/LegoLand.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 468px; height: 468px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TR76X95s_FI/AAAAAAAAAMg/V7ams-NZleE/s320/LegoLand.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557154279882292306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hello 2011! I can't help but feel nostalgic today. I tried to wake up as early as  I can and ended up leaving bed at around 8:30AM. I wanted to start the day right. Well.. I started the day by working. Yes, you read it right.. I brought home some work. Happy 2011!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been 5 years since I started this blog.. turning 6 years actually. I don't know if people are still reading this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your 2011 resolution? I have 2 things in mind. First-- get my butt of and share my talents (whatever those are). I mean, try not to be timid about it. Second -- try not to take work seriously (Work is merely something you need to make a living).  The second one is kinda hard for me especially since office work almost always takes the oxygen out of my system. I swear I'll make a way to stop rambling about it and dabble into what I really want to do in my life - which is anything arts related and not a 9-5pm job related.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You might not want to hear this from me (again!) but I am dreading work on MONDAY! I realized why I don't like working there anymore and it sounds kinda lame but one of the major contributing factors is my "next door neighbor". I wouldn't want to expound on it but yeah.. there. It'll be better I know. I'm sure of it. *trying hard to think positive*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going out tomorrow. Pamper myself and stuff. Will be tyring out a new hair color- a lighter one perhaps.. also a haircut. I'm planning on buying some good stuff for myself-- like prolly a pair of office shoes. We'll see. Definitely I'll be attending mass tomorrow. Yeah, you heard it right! Attend mass! :P &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the past year, I don't think I haven't really attended one. Maybe it's because I'm afraid to get closer to him. Sometimes he tests you. ..But then I do believe in him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels good to write down all these thoughts. Everyone seems to be extremely busy about their families and I couldn't feel the existence of any single friend I have. :( yes.  Oh well.. at least I have this blog anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-4064076734009142448?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/4064076734009142448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=4064076734009142448' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4064076734009142448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4064076734009142448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2011/01/1-1-11.html' title='1-1-11'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TR76X95s_FI/AAAAAAAAAMg/V7ams-NZleE/s72-c/LegoLand.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-1882421291980978213</id><published>2010-12-30T23:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-30T23:37:15.218-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Can you say good bye to YESTERDAY?</title><content type='html'>2010 is about to end in a few hours and I'm excited for the new year to come. I'm officially saying good bye to yesterday. I'll try as much as I can to cherish what's happening today and worry less about tomorrow. I'll try *crosses fingers*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a nice video. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/6erkCjptQes?fs=1" width="425" frameborder="0" height="344"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--Caeyo&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-1882421291980978213?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/1882421291980978213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=1882421291980978213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/1882421291980978213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/1882421291980978213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/12/can-you-say-good-bye-to-yesterday.html' title='Can you say good bye to YESTERDAY?'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/6erkCjptQes/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-8121955720331596577</id><published>2010-12-27T09:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-27T09:00:00.230-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams turned to Goals</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I woke up early today because I have to buy some stuff for the Charity Event tomorrow. It's going to be one hell of a day and I can feel it. My heart is pounding fast and my shoulders feel heavy. Work definitely stresses me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What to do? I've to keep my job and take it one day at a time. Someday I will free myself from the corporate world. Just wait and see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been a habit to visit his blog almost every month because it never fails to inspire the reader. He's one of the lucky few who didn't have to exert effort to get to where he is. He doesn't have to work hard at all but he pushes his self to the limits almost every time. He used to dreamy and all that but his magic doesn't work on me anymore. I still look up to him but I see him now as a person. Like me, I know he's also human. He's one of the few people who taught me to value time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder what will happen to me 6 months from now. I can barely see a good future in the hotel. Maybe because I'm not learning. Apart of me is scared to leave as it will cause me another adjustment. I've also become dependent on a gooood friend there (a reason to stay and not to stay).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Separations of any kind burns me like fire. I just have to aim higher and move forward. Think and believe that there is absolutely no barrier between me and my goals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From this day on Caeyo,  treat your dreams as GOALS. It makes your dreams attainable that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TRfh563fe4I/AAAAAAAAAMU/iTLLvoWQ6tI/s1600/251210_06.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 451px; height: 319px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TRfh563fe4I/AAAAAAAAAMU/iTLLvoWQ6tI/s320/251210_06.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555157050555595650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-8121955720331596577?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/8121955720331596577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=8121955720331596577' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/8121955720331596577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/8121955720331596577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/12/dreams-turned-to-goals.html' title='Dreams turned to Goals'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TRfh563fe4I/AAAAAAAAAMU/iTLLvoWQ6tI/s72-c/251210_06.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-8863164641059460659</id><published>2010-12-26T20:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-26T20:02:00.242-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Best of Both Worlds</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TRa-qr5qmpI/AAAAAAAAAMM/M8FWhwKZrWE/s1600/Sacramento_Davis_Intersections_SanFranciscoPhotos-752320.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 388px; height: 517px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TRa-qr5qmpI/AAAAAAAAAMM/M8FWhwKZrWE/s320/Sacramento_Davis_Intersections_SanFranciscoPhotos-752320.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554836830956460690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TRa-qCfpTUI/AAAAAAAAAME/nRQ9WDVAijs/s1600/cars-under-jacaranda-michele-roohani.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 420px; height: 322px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TRa-qCfpTUI/AAAAAAAAAME/nRQ9WDVAijs/s320/cars-under-jacaranda-michele-roohani.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554836819841469762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I have the best of both worlds?&lt;br /&gt;I can never leave the city but I dream of having a peaceful life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-8863164641059460659?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/8863164641059460659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=8863164641059460659' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/8863164641059460659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/8863164641059460659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/12/best-of-both-worlds.html' title='Best of Both Worlds'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TRa-qr5qmpI/AAAAAAAAAMM/M8FWhwKZrWE/s72-c/Sacramento_Davis_Intersections_SanFranciscoPhotos-752320.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-63308379831255272</id><published>2010-12-25T19:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-25T19:20:40.422-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Holiday 2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Christmas is over and I'm looking forward to New Year. Spent Christmas with my family and I'm pretty much contented with the "solemn" celebration that we had. I think I've matured. It was the first xmas that I felt happy and contented by the fact that my family is with me and that I'm given 4 days off from work (this one is actually a big dealbecause I'm hating WORK! hehehe for the fuckin nth time!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though xmas is over, I still haven't figured out what I wanted-- material wise. I like a lot of things but somehow I know it doesn't really matter if I have them or what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If given a christmas wish, I want to spend xmas in another country -- probably in Japan. hehe I even asked a goooood friend if we can spend xmas there. Crazy I know! hehehe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have this endless feeling that I just want to get away. I've been looking at fashion blogs not just because of the clothes these people are wearing but I envy the FREEDOM that they all seem to have. Even though they're normal people who have normal jobs, they exude an aura of being accepted for who they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking at my life, I've worked hard to fit in and silenced my rebellious self because I have a feeling that it is somehow destructive/dangerous to the people I value. Now that I'm writing this down, it's actually a long time since I've really shared a piece of myself again in cyberspace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking forward to freeing myself a bit more in the coming year. I am a prisoner to my own self. I know I have tons of choices but I decided to stay in my own built prisoner cell. It's going to take some time I guess. I'm taking it 6 months at a time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me-- feeling so grown up and acting so grown up in my inhibited job...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TRaw0thGOQI/AAAAAAAAAL0/ZscIiTYEyUg/s1600/merrybusychristmas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 441px; height: 441px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TRaw0thGOQI/AAAAAAAAAL0/ZscIiTYEyUg/s320/merrybusychristmas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554821610026187010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-63308379831255272?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/63308379831255272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=63308379831255272' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/63308379831255272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/63308379831255272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/12/holiday-2010.html' title='Holiday 2010'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TRaw0thGOQI/AAAAAAAAAL0/ZscIiTYEyUg/s72-c/merrybusychristmas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-5343816074426564165</id><published>2010-12-14T23:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T23:58:00.470-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Money and Friend</title><content type='html'>The richest man in the world is not the one who still has the first dollar he ever earned. It's the man who still has his best friend.&lt;br /&gt;- Martha Mason&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A disappointing thing happened tonight. Money is not a problem-- it's the trust-- the friendship. Wish I could tell you more but I'd rather skip on the details. I find it unfair. I kept mum about it several times since she's a friend but I never thought that keeping my mouth shut would actually encourage the person to treat me this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I'm being fooled. Maybe I am.. Maybe I'm not. I'll keep my mouth shut and give what she wanted but SHE LOST OUR FRIENDSHIP FOREVER. When we were younger, I already saw some patterns of her behavior but I just ignored it. I never expected that she'd treat me this way. I feel like she used my weakness just to make money. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel bad not because of the money but because of the deed. :(  I'll just keep my mouth shut,  and stay away from her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bad Karma will get her.  :/  tsk tsk...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;"An Ye Harm None, Do What Ye Will"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-5343816074426564165?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/5343816074426564165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=5343816074426564165' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/5343816074426564165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/5343816074426564165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/12/money-and-friend.html' title='Money and Friend'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-4546121670430020266</id><published>2010-12-05T21:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-05T21:34:00.426-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick Sunday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TPwu_-VaWbI/AAAAAAAAALo/G_BqGiWgOxk/s1600/72579_448683819422_605684422_5376488_1344249_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 434px; height: 290px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TPwu_-VaWbI/AAAAAAAAALo/G_BqGiWgOxk/s320/72579_448683819422_605684422_5376488_1344249_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547360517613050290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I wonder how it feels to travel the world or visit another country with my family? It has always been a dream. If given enough budget, I would bring my family to Jersey so she can see his brother and the rest of the family. When I was younger I hoped for the his brother to buy us plane tickets so we can visit them. It never happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will I ever get to treat my mom to some fancy place? :) Life was never easy but nobody told me that it can get very very hard. While the others are listing their Christmas wishlist, I'm wishing for a better paying job and a less stress work environment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While sleeping, I woke up twice. The first was when I suddenly remembered a very important matter that I needed to email-- I realized that I was able to email it. I tried to go back to sleep, but I guess the sudden gush of adrenaline really woke me up and I couldn't put myself to sleep anymore. The second time was when I dreamt about my old boss and she was very mean to me. It was sort of like a nightmare where in someone in my dream betrayed me. These happened in one night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As much as I want to calm myself and think beyond work, I just can't. There's so much to do and it's overwhelming. People may say that it's just work. You leave things behind when you leave the office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's December. I wonder what to do next. My head is aching like hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If someone can give me plane tickets to go somewhere else for a vacation, that'll make me happy. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I badly needed a vacation. I don't care if it's a trip to Italy, Thailand or Hawaii for as long as people in my office can't get in touch with me. ..then I'm happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-4546121670430020266?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/4546121670430020266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=4546121670430020266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4546121670430020266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4546121670430020266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/12/sick-sunday.html' title='Sick Sunday'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TPwu_-VaWbI/AAAAAAAAALo/G_BqGiWgOxk/s72-c/72579_448683819422_605684422_5376488_1344249_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-8053801850534450278</id><published>2010-12-03T23:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-03T23:53:00.341-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Spaghetti, Leche Flan Cake, Banana Cake &amp; Coffee</title><content type='html'>It's amazing how much I enjoyed tonight's food. Tsoko.nut at last! :D Even though the place was situated at Eastwood, it had a similar feel of the old branch in Makati.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It rained after we ate. I was so full that I just wanted to sleep in the cab. ..and now I wonder.. will I ever get to go home - alone - this late - again? Sorry for my grammar. I'm really sleepy right now but I'm trying to document my thoughts before I go to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels great to have a friend who'd stay by your side despite of whatever shits you do. At times the friendship upsets me but then most of the time I'm thankful about it. It has kept me sane for some months already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels safe going home and knowing that you're not going to go home alone. For some reason, I don't feel alone tonight and I'm thankful. I know I've mentioned it already but I'm thankful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saw these pictures in google images:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TPkTsiQeWrI/AAAAAAAAALg/5kqfEcI69aY/s1600/218359_126086751742484.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 329px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TPkTsiQeWrI/AAAAAAAAALg/5kqfEcI69aY/s320/218359_126086751742484.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546486071914551986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TPkTscjmx7I/AAAAAAAAALY/ZOh0iswi99I/s1600/218359_126086751788198.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 402px; height: 399px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TPkTscjmx7I/AAAAAAAAALY/ZOh0iswi99I/s320/218359_126086751788198.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546486070384183218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm happy but I'm already dreading the day when I'd have to visit this place by myself once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-8053801850534450278?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/8053801850534450278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=8053801850534450278' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/8053801850534450278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/8053801850534450278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/12/spaghetti-leche-flan-cake-banana-cake.html' title='Spaghetti, Leche Flan Cake, Banana Cake &amp; Coffee'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TPkTsiQeWrI/AAAAAAAAALg/5kqfEcI69aY/s72-c/218359_126086751742484.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-418509729831424034</id><published>2010-11-30T11:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-29T19:22:09.166-08:00</updated><title type='text'>----------- !!</title><content type='html'>DO I LOOK LIKE A BAND-AID? &gt;(&lt;br /&gt;hmf!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-418509729831424034?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/418509729831424034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=418509729831424034' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/418509729831424034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/418509729831424034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/11/blog-post.html' title='----------- !!'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-3997124476872017395</id><published>2010-11-29T23:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-29T23:21:00.129-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hopeless?</title><content type='html'>The belly dance show went well-- I had a few mistakes tho I was able to cope with it. It wasn't really a big deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-sigh-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how to start this entry. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw a picture as I was scanning through some things in my facebook account and it's actually the reason why I'm upset tonight. I'm freakin' and stupidly jealous. :( &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jealousy... this is a natural feeling... tho it's not a rational one. I'm not even in the right position to feel this way so I know I better keep my mouth shut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm just over analyzing things.. but is it my fault if my course and my job trained me to be analytical?? I hate reading body gestures in pictures because I know that my assessment is almost always accurate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stop being jealous my poor self. Stop it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At times like this, I'd rather just focus on career and other interests. Whenever I give importance to a certain friendship or relationship of any kind.. it just leaves me disappointed. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stop it. :( You've always known you're susceptible to bullshits so stir clear from whoever promises you whatever. It's easy to promise stuff. It's a lot easier to break that promise. It's a different story when they lie or even to keep certain stories on the low.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a lot easier if some things won't be mentioned.. so don't expect anything even if you hear the greatest of all things. Wait for the action. Concrete Action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No action, then it's all crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People come and GO cleo. Remember that. No one is worth over your value as a person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just breathe. Disappear tomorrow. Be silent. Just breathe because the day after tomorrow or even years and years after...  you'll realize you're all by yourself.. but you're still doing fine.. ..or maybe even great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Calm down now. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-3997124476872017395?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3997124476872017395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3997124476872017395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/11/hopeless.html' title='Hopeless?'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-5620961116075352198</id><published>2010-11-26T00:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-26T08:31:54.318-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Find me if you can :P</title><content type='html'>Nothing is certain. I'm trying to take it one day at a time. I'd like to think that things are happening because it's meant to be. Maybe it's much easier this way.  So far, I've managed to hold back. Until when? I don't know. Nothing is certain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I figured I want so much to focus and set my career on track. Travel. Be free. I've a few years more to do that before I finally say.. it's time to "settle".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will I ever get to settle down? I love the world and I'm curious about everything (well, ALMOST). I get bored easily.. can I really settle down?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm too young to think about this. Let me talk to myself and take it one day at  time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like being spontaneous. I love NO routines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will I feel this way a few years from now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will definitely change. Will it be good or will it break someone else's heart? Or.. will it break once again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..Oh well. Too much lovey dovey stuff are making me sick tonight. Let's talk about work...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....arts...........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...................................freedom...........................................................................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....let's talk about the childhood I never had.............................................................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;......let's talk about my secrets..................................... why my defenses are up.............&lt;br /&gt;..............................................................&lt;br /&gt;..............................&lt;br /&gt;...........&lt;br /&gt;let's talk about the things I'll never talk about.......from there I'll know if you can really find ME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not me physically... find my heart..... it slips away easily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fear the fact that absence makes the heart grow fonder.... BUt After some time... I know................................................................my heart........................................................................................................... in the long run.............................................. after a few years............................. after a few months................................................................after a few weeks................................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my heart is programmed to easily forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case it forgets.................................................................... can you make it remember once again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-5620961116075352198?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/5620961116075352198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=5620961116075352198' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/5620961116075352198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/5620961116075352198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/11/find-me-if-you-can-p.html' title='Find me if you can :P'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-4539863101910455541</id><published>2010-11-19T23:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-19T23:08:00.160-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Every..</title><content type='html'>girl's dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saw this in someone else's blog. I just want to re-post this. Some applies to me. Some don't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Get kissed in the rain&lt;br /&gt;2. Have that one hot kiss where your pressed against the wall&lt;br /&gt;3. Have a guy that thinks you’re the world&lt;br /&gt;4.. Have a guy that holds on as long as possible when giving hugs&lt;br /&gt;5. A boy that whispers he loves you in your ear&lt;br /&gt;6. Have that moment where you just gaze into each others eyes&lt;br /&gt;7. When you cry, he kisses your tears away.&lt;br /&gt;8. When you’re not with your guy he’s all that you can think about&lt;br /&gt;9. Wearing his jacket and every time you breath in, his scent surrounds you&lt;br /&gt;10. A guy who will watch any movie with you, no matter how teary eyed you may get.&lt;br /&gt;11. A guy who squeezes your hand&lt;br /&gt;12. A boy that says he loves you and means it&lt;br /&gt;13. A guy that will play her favorite song outside her window&lt;br /&gt;14. A guy who is loyal&lt;br /&gt;15. A guy that will sing to you no matter how bad he is at it.&lt;br /&gt;16. A guy that will kiss you on the forehead.&lt;br /&gt;17. A guy that will call you beautiful or adorable…not hot, fine, or sexy&lt;br /&gt;18. A guy that will never judge you for how you look.&lt;br /&gt;19. A boy that says cheezy stuff to you just to make u smile&lt;br /&gt;20. A boy that is the same when he is with you and when with friends&lt;br /&gt;21. A boy that tells you everything honestly&lt;br /&gt;22. A boy that is good with your family and introduces you to his family&lt;br /&gt;23. A guy that will always let you win&lt;br /&gt;24. A guy who stands up for you no matter who it is against&lt;br /&gt;25. A guy who calls you at night just to say ‘hi’ and see how your day has been&lt;br /&gt;26. A boy who tells you that your smile makes his day and makes everything better&lt;br /&gt;27. A boy who will sit on the phone with you when you’re sad, even if you’re quiet&lt;br /&gt;28. A boy who you can hangout and have fun with&lt;br /&gt;29. A boy that will just randomly call you for no reason at all, just because he missed you&lt;br /&gt;30. A guy who will hold your hand through the roughest parts of life.&lt;br /&gt;31. A guy who would love you forever no matter the circumstance.&lt;br /&gt;32.  A guy who wouldn’t mind you wanting to get all dressed up and do your  make up for him. Even if he says he likes you better without make up.&lt;br /&gt;33. A guy who you can be yourself with and he will never give a care and would still tell you that you are amazing to him.&lt;br /&gt;34. A guy who runs his fingers through your hair, like he’s washing your worries/troubles away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question is Is there such guy??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-4539863101910455541?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/4539863101910455541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=4539863101910455541' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4539863101910455541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4539863101910455541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/11/every.html' title='Every..'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-2407931397637627594</id><published>2010-11-15T22:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-15T22:05:00.705-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Day-- still</title><content type='html'>Happiness lies in the joy of achievement and the thrill of creative effort. It's a mental attitude. It comes from appreciating what we have, instead of being miserable abot what we don't have. It's so simple - yet so hard for the human mind to comprehend - Franklin Roosevelt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---this I should always remember :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Dear beat from work but managed to use a "happy" disposition until I left the office. Gosh. I wonder why my world revolves around my work and extra curricular actvities (read: belly dance and styling). I guess I like it better this way. I'm not so focused with the corporate world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gosh, I miss shopping. I want to buy a lot of stuff but I have to keep in mind my priorities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well... tomorrow's another day.. another chance to make my life better....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Btw, what's the most effective way to help someone cheer up?? I dunno why but it seems like I ran out of ways today. ??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-2407931397637627594?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/2407931397637627594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=2407931397637627594' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/2407931397637627594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/2407931397637627594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/11/another-day-still.html' title='Another Day-- still'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-520893457676107991</id><published>2010-11-13T15:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-13T23:01:58.279-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Roses are BLUE</title><content type='html'>I wonder what the future will bring. 9 years and 10 months from now, where will I be at that time? What will I be doing? Who am I with?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Change is constant. Our experiences gradually change us. I wonder what will happen next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try my best not to get attached to things. There are days when I manage to build a wall around me there are days when I fail to do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll just take it one day at a time. I don't want to run so fast only to stumble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, here are some things that made me smile on different days. They've wilted and I had to throw them away. I'm not one who keeps such things but I never forget the feeling that I had when I received them.. and for that I'll always be grateful.. not for the flowers but for the intention of the giver to make me smile. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TN-FwKUmgqI/AAAAAAAAALI/RcKNIRB1Fwc/s1600/Photo0714.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TN-FwKUmgqI/AAAAAAAAALI/RcKNIRB1Fwc/s320/Photo0714.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539293129139978914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TN-FvyHpA7I/AAAAAAAAALA/8Ll5Ryj_Lh8/s1600/Photo0566.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/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TN-FvyHpA7I/AAAAAAAAALA/8Ll5Ryj_Lh8/s320/Photo0566.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539293122643166130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TN-Fve3LPPI/AAAAAAAAAK4/1Q28u3H4VjM/s1600/Photo0485.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/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TN-Fve3LPPI/AAAAAAAAAK4/1Q28u3H4VjM/s320/Photo0485.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539293117473832178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-520893457676107991?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/520893457676107991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=520893457676107991' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/520893457676107991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/520893457676107991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/11/roses-are-blue.html' title='Roses are BLUE'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TN-FwKUmgqI/AAAAAAAAALI/RcKNIRB1Fwc/s72-c/Photo0714.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-7122993622594387487</id><published>2010-10-25T18:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-25T18:50:00.307-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Makati Morning</title><content type='html'>I think I've posted this before-- Is it me or is the economy is simply low right now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I've had almost 3-4 hours of belly dance session today. Tiring but fun. Had to learn the dances because the recital is coming up. That means no more rice for me plus I need to tighten up my belt because I've got bills, bills and a lot more bills to pay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm missing my previous job now that I'm in need of extra cash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I wanted to buy this book. Authors were Trinny and Sussanah. I'm not quite sure if the book is good. I actually haven't seen it in Powerbooks. Oh gosh, I really want to read up on a lot of Fashion books right now. I've already posted it in my Fashion Blog - the must reads. I'm not quite contented with styling class. I haven't really learned that much. We haven't even tried pulling out clothes from stores and designers yet. As much as possible I want to be able to use the course that I took up. I don't want it to go to waste. I mean.. come on. It's a given fact that I studied course because I'm really into it but I have to get something out of it. How am I going to be a fashion stylist if I don't even know how to contact and set the rate for photographers/models/MUA and others. I'm praying that I'll get to learn those along the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm planning on studying again but will see. I need to take things slowly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, here are some pictures I took while walking in Makati-- reminds me a lot of the fun days in AC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TMVelYAQ76I/AAAAAAAAAKw/IzmahnWMXvg/s1600/Photo0646.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 419px; height: 314px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TMVelYAQ76I/AAAAAAAAAKw/IzmahnWMXvg/s320/Photo0646.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531931713486253986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The usual scene. Traffic going to San Lo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TMVelKbOvjI/AAAAAAAAAKo/fOfci4n88t0/s1600/Photo0645.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 433px; height: 325px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TMVelKbOvjI/AAAAAAAAAKo/fOfci4n88t0/s320/Photo0645.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531931709841260082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This used to be Park Square. There used to be a terminal of buses and jeepneys there.  Memories of waiting in vain at the long line of Pateros Terminal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TMVek5qLjHI/AAAAAAAAAKg/N5ALIEsd5bY/s1600/Photo0647.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 328px; height: 437px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TMVek5qLjHI/AAAAAAAAAKg/N5ALIEsd5bY/s320/Photo0647.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531931705340562546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;HA!! I remember the earliest class I had was 7:45AM and I'd rush through this way early in the morning. On exam days, I remember studying while walking (yes!! I study while I walk. It was a habit) through this passage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss being in college. :)  The happiest and most tragic parts of life happened in college.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-7122993622594387487?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/7122993622594387487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=7122993622594387487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7122993622594387487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7122993622594387487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/10/makati-morning.html' title='Makati Morning'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TMVelYAQ76I/AAAAAAAAAKw/IzmahnWMXvg/s72-c/Photo0646.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-7416957265444978794</id><published>2010-10-23T20:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-23T20:34:00.711-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I want to FLY.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TMLUaLeIBtI/AAAAAAAAAKY/PElsN9UBzz0/s1600/plane.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 247px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TMLUaLeIBtI/AAAAAAAAAKY/PElsN9UBzz0/s320/plane.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531216838585222866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I missed traveling. I figured I have to be able to travel next year if not, then I will have to enroll myself in school and take another interesting course. :)  What can I say.. studying keeps me young.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week was A-ok. I kept my emotions (at work) on check every now and then. Try not to get pissed with the littlest of details. It can be tiring though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally finished doing the bulletin boards. Thank God for sending me great friends who helped me out. We finished at around 11PM. I was disappointed about going home alone-- it felt "empty" that night. After a busy day, though I have friends around me.. it's a given fact that I am alone. I can't expect people to drive me home or whatever. Anyway, all's done and I guess I'm back to my "independent" self.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh gosh, I want to travel. It doesn't matter if it's in Asia or some far away continent. I wonder how it feels traveling with someone that you like/love? It's a shame if you break up after that. :P &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm blabbing. It's a relaxing Saturday night. I'm happy even if I'm broke (yeah.. the effin' photoshoot's making me broke).  No work on Monday!! YEY!! Belly dance class starts on early this coming Monday. I think around 10AM. Yey!! --- I wonder if I'll still be dancing til next year?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to travel..... yes, I think I've said that too many times tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-7416957265444978794?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/7416957265444978794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=7416957265444978794' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7416957265444978794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7416957265444978794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-want-to-fly.html' title='I want to FLY.'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TMLUaLeIBtI/AAAAAAAAAKY/PElsN9UBzz0/s72-c/plane.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-979497405939839929</id><published>2010-10-11T15:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T15:28:00.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Defenses</title><content type='html'>He was like a kid who had his defenses up. I felt it. It was a mix of crumpled emotions which he chose to hide behind his jokes and witty remarks but were evident in his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't read minds. I bluffed when I told him that. I only know how to decode behavior and its patterns. This afternoon it was his coping mechanisms at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel bad for you my friend. I pray that God will give you strength to face each challenges. I pray that God will guide you to make the right decisions when I'm already away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel bad because I can't do anything. I am only a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-979497405939839929?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/979497405939839929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=979497405939839929' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/979497405939839929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/979497405939839929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/10/defenses.html' title='Defenses'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-3075278639319284398</id><published>2010-10-10T22:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-10T22:31:00.270-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Army of Greatness my BUTT</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="GBThreadMessageRow_Info"&gt;       &lt;span class="GBThreadMessageRow_AuthorLink_Wrapper"&gt;         &lt;a class="GBThreadMessageRow_AuthorLink" href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=617497639"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ME: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="GBThreadMessageRow_Date"&gt;October 10 at 10:01pm       &lt;/span&gt;       &lt;span class="GBThreadMessageRow_BranchLink"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;       &lt;span class="GBThreadMessageRow_ReportLink"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;     &lt;/div&gt;            &lt;div class="GBThreadMessageRow_Body_Content"&gt;         Sir, how about.. Army of Greatness.&lt;br /&gt;hahahahahahaha!&lt;br /&gt;now I wanna hide. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="GBThreadMessageRow_Info"&gt;       &lt;span class="GBThreadMessageRow_AuthorLink_Wrapper"&gt;         &lt;a class="GBThreadMessageRow_AuthorLink" href="http://www.facebook.com/HopeTrain"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="GBThreadMessageRow_Date"&gt;MENTOR: October 10 at 10:04pm       &lt;/span&gt;       &lt;span class="GBThreadMessageRow_BranchLink"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="GBThreadMessageRow_ReportLink"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;     &lt;/div&gt;            &lt;div class="GBThreadMessageRow_Body_Content"&gt;         oh my goodness&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="GBThreadMessageRow_Info"&gt;       &lt;span class="GBThreadMessageRow_AuthorLink_Wrapper"&gt;         &lt;a class="GBThreadMessageRow_AuthorLink" href="http://www.facebook.com/HopeTrain"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="GBThreadMessageRow_Date"&gt;MENTOR: October 10 at 10:12pm       &lt;/span&gt;       &lt;span class="GBThreadMessageRow_BranchLink"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="GBThreadMessageRow_ReportLink"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;     &lt;/div&gt;            &lt;div class="GBThreadMessageRow_Body_Content"&gt; Circle of Champions, Champion's League or League of Champions, Team Synergy, People Builders, Team Fusion, People Engagement and Progress PEP Team&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="GBThreadMessageRow_Info"&gt;       &lt;span class="GBThreadMessageRow_AuthorLink_Wrapper"&gt;         &lt;a class="GBThreadMessageRow_AuthorLink" href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=617497639"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="GBThreadMessageRow_Date"&gt;ME: October 10 at 10:20pm       &lt;/span&gt;       &lt;span class="GBThreadMessageRow_BranchLink"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;       &lt;span class="GBThreadMessageRow_ReportLink"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;     &lt;/div&gt;            &lt;div class="GBThreadMessageRow_Body_Content"&gt;         hahahahaha! my oh my.&lt;br /&gt;Now I kinda get it. :D       &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Oh my!!! Can I really do this? I can't even think of a decent name. Come on- Mamon! &lt;/span&gt;:D &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Super I want to hide my face. BooohooO for the hideous names. wahahahah! Ugly sh!t.  Ok.. I got to think some more...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-3075278639319284398?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/3075278639319284398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=3075278639319284398' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3075278639319284398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3075278639319284398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/10/army-of-greatness-my-butt.html' title='Army of Greatness my BUTT'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-6173456444370185141</id><published>2010-10-09T21:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T21:42:00.209-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reality AS USUAL</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="text_exposed_show"&gt;DID I MARRY THE RIGHT PERSON?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During one of our seminars, a woman asked a common question. She said, "How do I know if I married the right person?"&lt;br /&gt;I noticed that there was a large man sitting next to her so I said, "It depends. Is that your husband?"&lt;br /&gt;In all seriousness, she answered "How do you know?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me answer this question because the chances are good that it's weighing on your mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the answer.&lt;br /&gt;EVERY relationship has a cycle. In the beginning, you fell in love with your spouse/partner. You anticipated their call, wanted their touch, and liked their idiosyncrasies (unconventional behavior/habit) .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Falling in love with your spouse wasn't hard. In fact, it was a completely natural and spontaneous experience.&lt;br /&gt;You didn't have to DO anything. That's why it's called "falling" in love... Because it's happening TO YOU.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People in love sometimes say, "I was swept of my feet." Think about the imagery of that __expression. It implies that you were just standing there; doing nothing, and then something came along and happened TO YOU.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Falling in love is easy. It's a passive and spontaneous experience. But after a few years of marriage, the euphoria (excitement) of love fades. It's the natural cycle of EVERY relationship. Slowly but surely, phone calls become a bother (if they come at all), touch is not always welcome (when it happens), and your spouse's idiosyncrasies, instead of being cute, drive you nuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The symptoms of this stage vary with every relationship, but if you think about your marriage, you will notice a dramatic difference between the initial stage when you were in love and a much duller or even angry subsequent stage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, you and/or your spouse might start asking, "Did I marry the right person?"&lt;br /&gt;And as you and your spouse reflect on the euphoria of the love you once had, you may begin to desire that experience with someone else.&lt;br /&gt;This is when marriages or relationship breakdown. People blame their spouse/partner for their unhappiness and look outside their marriage/relationsh ip for fulfillment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Extramarital fulfillment comes in all shapes and sizes. Infidelity is the most obvious.&lt;br /&gt;But sometimes people turn to work, a hobby, excessive TV, or abusive substances.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the answer to this dilemma does NOT lie outside your marriage. It lies within it.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not saying that you couldn't fall in love with someone else.&lt;br /&gt;You could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And TEMPORARILY you'd feel better. But you'd be in the same situation a few years later. Because (listen carefully to this):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE KEY TO SUCCEEDING IN MARRIAGE/RELATIONSH IP IS NOT FINDING THE RIGHT PERSON; IT'S LEARNING TO LOVE THE PERSON YOU FOUND.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SUSTAINING love is not a passive or spontaneous experience. It'll NEVER just happen to you. You can't "find" LASTING love. You have to "make" it day in and day out. That's why we have the __expression "the labor of love." Because it takes time, effort, and energy. And most importantly, it takes WISDOM. You have to know WHAT TO DO to make your marriage/relationsh ip work. Sure true love can only happen after you've fallen out of love. When you begin choosing to love, even if you don't feel like doing it ---- that's true love. And that's the foundation of a lasting and strong marriage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Make no mistake about it. Love is NOT a mystery. There are specific things you can do (with or without your spouse) to succeed with your marriage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as there are physical laws of the universe (such as gravity), there are also laws for relationships.&lt;br /&gt;Just as the right diet and exercise program makes you physically stronger, certain habits in your relationship WILL make your marriage stronger.&lt;br /&gt;It's a direct cause and effect. If you know and apply the laws, the results are predictable. .. you can "make"love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is indeed a "decision".. . Not just a feeling. You'll not just go away with your relationship just because the feeling is gone. In the Bible, love is a command. You make it happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember this always:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"God determines who walks into your life. It is up to you to decide who you let walk away, who you let stay, and who you refuse to let go."&lt;br /&gt;FW: Ruth Beltran&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Marriage is more than saying I Do. Marriage, like a precious plant, needs constant tending for it to grow, flourish, and bear fruti to last a lifetime, and beyond."&lt;br /&gt;-David and Evelyn Feliciano&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="text_exposed_hide"&gt;&lt;span class="text_exposed_link"&gt;&lt;a&gt;See More&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="mts uiAttachmentDesc"&gt;TAKE TIME TO READ... TO THOSE WHO ARE NOT MARRIED YET, YOU MIGHT LEARN FROM IT... AND TO THOSE WHO ARE ALREADY MARRIED, YOU STILL MIGHT LEARN FROM IT.. :D&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="uiTextSubtitle"&gt;By: &lt;span class="uiAttachmentDetails"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001628672140"&gt;Gumdrop Shoppe&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Now this left me thinking.  Love is a decision -- just like what Scott Peck said. &lt;br /&gt;Love sucks and it leaves me frustrated every time.  Every single effin' time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-6173456444370185141?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/6173456444370185141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=6173456444370185141' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6173456444370185141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6173456444370185141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/10/reality-as-usual.html' title='Reality AS USUAL'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-7173660337344115277</id><published>2010-10-09T10:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T19:57:52.922-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday Laziness</title><content type='html'>AigooooO!  Me and my sister are obliged to go to my cousin's house. AigooooooO! Yes, we are lazy. This is what we call the Sunday Laziness. hahaha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caeyo: What's your ideal Sunday like?&lt;br /&gt;Cham: Staying at home, doing nothing. SS501-ing.&lt;br /&gt;Caeyo: Same here. I'm gonna fix myself another cup of coffee.. maybe that'll kick me out of these pjamas. harhar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously. I wonder why I hate attending birthdays, baptisms, weddings and any other events. It doesn't show but barely like attending those stuffs. Lazy ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caeyo, stop blogging and start fixing yourself. This is NETWORKING. Make it work for you. Business people will be there. GO. Get up. GO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-7173660337344115277?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/7173660337344115277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=7173660337344115277' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7173660337344115277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7173660337344115277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/10/sunday-laziness.html' title='Sunday Laziness'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-1840091744849784112</id><published>2010-10-09T07:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T07:15:29.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything</title><content type='html'>&lt;object style="background-image: url(http://i3.ytimg.com/vi/fjDojEOiMcE/hqdefault.jpg);" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fjDojEOiMcE?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/fjDojEOiMcE?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, will it be crazy if I tell you that I'm scared? Scared of tomorrow. Scared of what might happen next. Maybe I lack faith. Maybe I'm naturally pessimistic. Maybe I worry too much. Maybe I'm sick in the head or maybe it really is just plain scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lost my safest place years ago. It felt like I lost everything. I've tried to find that safe place over and over only to discover that the way I perceive it .. it's plain distorted already. At times I don't know what to believe in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God...if that safest place still does exist, lead me towards it because I don't want to feel scared anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-1840091744849784112?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/1840091744849784112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=1840091744849784112' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/1840091744849784112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/1840091744849784112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/10/everything.html' title='Everything'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-3584387012073185856</id><published>2010-10-08T13:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-08T13:27:00.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Once Again</title><content type='html'>I'm really trying my best not whine and gripe about the things happening at work but I'm just so full of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pardon my negativity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's becoming a struggle day by day. I feel like my ability is being tested every now and then. I want to do something but I'm not the one to make a decision. What should I do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe in the future I'll encounter challenges bigger than this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just when I needed someone to be there......................................................... no one's there.&lt;br /&gt;Do I need to cry for help?&lt;br /&gt;Hell No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gotta call my mentor.......................................................................................................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm messed up--- ONCE AGAIN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-3584387012073185856?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/3584387012073185856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=3584387012073185856' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3584387012073185856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3584387012073185856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/10/once-again.html' title='Once Again'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-406055305884132690</id><published>2010-10-07T05:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T05:27:58.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cafeteria Mayhem</title><content type='html'>I feel BAD.&lt;br /&gt;So bad that I don't want to type anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny how I can't stop crying just because of some stupid food costing and a bunch of tralalas from other departments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even my mom knows that I'm tooooooooo upset tonight. Can you believe it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm dead tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-406055305884132690?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/406055305884132690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=406055305884132690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/406055305884132690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/406055305884132690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/10/cafeteria-mayhem.html' title='Cafeteria Mayhem'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-5691507416700787164</id><published>2010-10-04T08:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-04T08:29:13.061-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I want to GO.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKnyGXMmEaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/OYj5Tb3NrBg/s1600/stay-or-go.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 309px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKnyGXMmEaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/OYj5Tb3NrBg/s320/stay-or-go.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524212609066602914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"I'm standing over the edge of this industry... wondering if it's all that important to me. ..Should I go? Should I stay? I'm in control either way." - Should I go, BRANDY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Few more months and I'm off to Freedom ville.  I'm loathing because there's work tomorrow. VL's over by 12 midnight. BoooHoooO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder I feel so underpaid and overly "used" these days. hehehe..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hold on Caeyo. Hold your impatient self.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-5691507416700787164?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/5691507416700787164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=5691507416700787164' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/5691507416700787164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/5691507416700787164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-want-to-go.html' title='I want to GO.'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKnyGXMmEaI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/OYj5Tb3NrBg/s72-c/stay-or-go.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-1080964294089488010</id><published>2010-10-03T05:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-03T06:01:15.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rings</title><content type='html'>I just discovered that my dad never gave my mom an engagement ring. I wonder how my dad proposed to my mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what's happening to me lately. I've been thinking about marriage and having a family. BoooO! I don't even have a boyfriend. BooooOOO! BooooO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. Since I'm blabbing about engagement rings tonight.. ..I'll just blab some more. hehehe..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was surprised to see Paris Hilton's super big engagement ring. Receiving a big diamond is an amazing thing but I don't think I would want to receive a big diamond that's gonna take up a whole lotta space on my finger (but I don't like an itsy bitsy diamond either).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKh5SRF8JXI/AAAAAAAAAKI/r67uPlY4ODI/s1600/Photo0589.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKh5SRF8JXI/AAAAAAAAAKI/r67uPlY4ODI/s320/Photo0589.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523798297702835570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, that's my hand in the picture. I'm wearing a diamond ring and wedding band that my mom gave me. That size is but OK. Plain Ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKh5RbktnTI/AAAAAAAAAKA/HGZwvx74EHE/s1600/dragonflyring.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 358px; height: 226px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKh5RbktnTI/AAAAAAAAAKA/HGZwvx74EHE/s320/dragonflyring.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523798283336391986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKh5QtF5x1I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/jfwSiWYSmuo/s1600/Halo_cushion_1_carat_lg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 259px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKh5QtF5x1I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/jfwSiWYSmuo/s320/Halo_cushion_1_carat_lg.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523798270859134802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will this pass as an engagement ring? De Beers ring (Dragonfly). Saw this in their website. It's not really an engagement ring but that'll be nice. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love the band of diamonds but not the ring itself. hehehe.. too common. :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, whatever. I'm bored and scattered brain-- as usual. I know these rings doesn't guarantee a love that will stand the test of time but it would be perfect if a girl will receive one. Maybe my dad couldn't afford to buy my mom a ring at that time, I understand (a bit) but he could've tried. If I'm not gonna get the ring that I deserve (i wouldn't settle for anything mediocre)... then I'm gonna buy one for myself. hehehe..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...yes. i'm dead serious. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-1080964294089488010?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/1080964294089488010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=1080964294089488010' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/1080964294089488010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/1080964294089488010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/10/rings.html' title='Rings'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKh5SRF8JXI/AAAAAAAAAKI/r67uPlY4ODI/s72-c/Photo0589.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-7928936927614057945</id><published>2010-10-02T22:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T22:07:32.206-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I want!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKgOqDUbuZI/AAAAAAAAAJw/F0QKc4a7-zM/s1600/teenvogue+iwant.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 509px; height: 286px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKgOqDUbuZI/AAAAAAAAAJw/F0QKc4a7-zM/s320/teenvogue+iwant.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523681058578217362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Is it the economic crisis or is it just me? :P&lt;br /&gt;Oh God, send me an angel who'd buy this book for me. Please please please. I badly want to read it. :)&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/13607901-7928936927614057945?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/7928936927614057945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=7928936927614057945' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7928936927614057945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7928936927614057945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-want.html' title='I want!'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKgOqDUbuZI/AAAAAAAAAJw/F0QKc4a7-zM/s72-c/teenvogue+iwant.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-8417987002254717427</id><published>2010-09-28T22:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-28T22:33:00.452-07:00</updated><title type='text'>3hoursmile</title><content type='html'>Tonight I realized that I can fake a smile for almost 3 hours. It's a record-breaking-fake-smiling night. It was a triumphant night. I was able to pass on my smile to someone who needed to receive one. I stepped into my cab and as the door closed, I gave a sigh. I can finally frown and contemplate on what I feel inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love myself and I treasure every bit of me but sometimes I wish I can be someone else.  Maybe I can make someone happier if I am someone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I can only be... this much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am reality. She is the past. The past weighs more than the reality. I should know. I studied psychology.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid girl. Wake up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-8417987002254717427?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/8417987002254717427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=8417987002254717427' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/8417987002254717427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/8417987002254717427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/09/3hoursmile.html' title='3hoursmile'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-472512766802599142</id><published>2010-09-28T07:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-28T07:35:38.402-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm still Breathing -crosses fingers-</title><content type='html'>------------------------------------sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object style="background-image: url(http://i3.ytimg.com/vi/V1DQs_aPcTU/hqdefault.jpg);" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/V1DQs_aPcTU?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/V1DQs_aPcTU?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-472512766802599142?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/472512766802599142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=472512766802599142' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/472512766802599142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/472512766802599142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/09/im-still-breathing-crosses-fingers.html' title='I&apos;m still Breathing -crosses fingers-'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-2662797354744043733</id><published>2010-09-27T06:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T06:59:58.942-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Doggie Dog :D</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKCiw8aCLqI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Uu_IfkpvnQc/s1600/Photo0498.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 271px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKCiw8aCLqI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Uu_IfkpvnQc/s320/Photo0498.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521592104888970914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A dog has no use for fancy cars or big homes or designer clothes. Status symbol means nothing to him. A waterlogged stick will do just fine. A dog judges others not by their color or creed or class but by who they are inside. A dog doesn't care if you are rich or poor, educated or illiterate, clever or dull. Give him your heart and he will give you his. It was really quite simple, and yet we humans, so much wiser and more sophisticated, have always had trouble figuring out what really counts and what does not. As I wrote that farewell column to Marley, I realized it was all right there in front of us, if only we opened our eyes. Sometimes it took a dog with bad breath, worse manners, and pure intentions to help us see."- john grogan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's not the cutest dog in the world. In fact he looks untidy most of the time. He growls in the morning and is tad too sweet at night. After 5 years of love-hate relationship, I still love my babe. Love Love LOVE. Pettie is Love. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-2662797354744043733?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/2662797354744043733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=2662797354744043733' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/2662797354744043733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/2662797354744043733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/09/doggie-dog-d.html' title='Doggie Dog :D'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKCiw8aCLqI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Uu_IfkpvnQc/s72-c/Photo0498.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-6678585480128799747</id><published>2010-09-26T22:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T07:33:18.436-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday School</title><content type='html'>Visited AC with my sister. Gosh, I miss going to that school. Who would've thought that I preferred wearing flats than high heels/platforms 3 years ago. Yes, I was a geek. I studied my ass off in college. I had the best memories in college.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKCohX7GzHI/AAAAAAAAAJo/mzPW0AOMzfo/s1600/Photo425.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 354px; height: 471px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKCohX7GzHI/AAAAAAAAAJo/mzPW0AOMzfo/s320/Photo425.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521598434467302514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I was never a cheerleader in school. Well.. I danced a few dances. hehehe..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKCog9eFf0I/AAAAAAAAAJg/lxFYX-Y3lfI/s1600/Photo424.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 347px; height: 458px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKCog9eFf0I/AAAAAAAAAJg/lxFYX-Y3lfI/s320/Photo424.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521598427366260546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;One of the things I like about studying in AC is that we are so near Glorietta and Greenbelt. "ISANG KEMBOT LANG". Missed food choices and strolling around the mall between 10am to 2pm. Long break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKCoghmsSRI/AAAAAAAAAJY/sXhKK2E5Cqo/s1600/Photo423.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 333px; height: 444px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKCoghmsSRI/AAAAAAAAAJY/sXhKK2E5Cqo/s320/Photo423.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521598419886164242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me being a geek. What's new? Even until now, my sister would tag me as a social outcast. Most of the time I find it... FUN. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-6678585480128799747?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/6678585480128799747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=6678585480128799747' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6678585480128799747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6678585480128799747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/09/sunday-school.html' title='Sunday School'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TKCohX7GzHI/AAAAAAAAAJo/mzPW0AOMzfo/s72-c/Photo425.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-7163083056263592805</id><published>2010-09-25T05:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-25T05:20:34.032-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Having a BAD DAY???</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-n0vi_ZbhN4?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/-n0vi_ZbhN4?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to deal with another Gina Moment a few days ago. The few minutes were just plain awful. It made me feel INCOMPETENT. It made me feel USED. It made me feel like I'm a mere walking piece grabbed to fill in an empty spot. I was sad, angered, shattered, disillusioned. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week ago, he was saying things like he'd see me after 10 years. Then after a few days he suddenly blurted out that if Gina would show up right at that moment and Gina wants him back, he'd forget about all his issues and would choose to be with her. He said he even wrote it in his book. FUCK. Was surprised to hear it from him especially since a few minutes before he mentioned that, he was so concerned about the "restraining order". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I am selfish, I would've asked him to f*ck the R.O. and just move on. Relationships are supposed to make you happy and secured. If you think you've done everything to save a relationship, then honey.. you gotta love yourself more and find someone who can give you the kind of love that you deserve. Break it off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's easy for me to say these crap because I'm out of the picture BUT I swore to myself that I'll never sacrifice my happiness for someone who doesn't truly love me. I believe in GOOD friendship as it is the foundation of a strong married life. And right now, I feel like this friendship is on the rocks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He exerts effort to make up for the shit. I appreciate it. Thank God I studied Psychology because now I understand what's happening. In the few days that I've been hurting, I've learned to freeze this confusing emotion and just be a FRIEND.. like what I've always been. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't help but feel that I am a friend who probably has some similarities with Gina. I am a friend whom he can count on because he and J are not in good terms. I am a friend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if you ask me, am I having a Bad Day??? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, not anymore. I've already known, accepted and defined my role in his life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-7163083056263592805?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/7163083056263592805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=7163083056263592805' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7163083056263592805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7163083056263592805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/09/having-bad-day.html' title='Having a BAD DAY???'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-6602085220185062100</id><published>2010-09-20T06:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T07:19:41.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"You are wiser than you think"</title><content type='html'>"You are wiser than you think"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;These words are stuck like glue in my head. I finally opened up to my best friend. It was good that I was able to draw a conclusion before sharing my thoughts to someone. At least I know that I chose that option because it was based on what I feel and not because of how others think/feel about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 years ago, my bestfriend was one of the kind girls that pulled me out of depression. They are one of the many good reasons why I try to think a thousand times before diving into trouble. Sayang kasi their effort if I'll go crazy again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 years ago, I can hardly walk in Glorietta alone or even look at the stores because every memory of my ex was just there. They weren't just walking with me. They were guiding as I walk through the mall. Why? Because I had my head bowed down. It was that bad and I didn't mind looking like an idiot as long as I don't feel the pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was that bad but I learned to value myself. I learned it from my friends. I learned it from my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, I told her about the situation that I am into. How I feel about it. As I'm telling her what has been happening, I came to understand my feelings more. Telling her the story felt like a risk. Not because she can't be trusted but because I know that she can read me like a book. She can analyze through my words and I am scared to be judged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like him. I like that I can be myself when I'm with him. I like what we have now -- I like our friendship. I value his presence and I appreciate the fact that he values our friendship too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it's good that we have 10 years ahead of us. It's a long time to think. I'm young and I know I'm going to meet plenty of interesting people. He's old and he has his priorities too. I think he needs to fix them first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I'm going to read him-- psychologically.. I think there's something wrong. He is kind but I know that he is stubborn. He is empty which is why he brags a lot. He tends to dwell on the past. There is something wrong and I can't point it out and I hope he fixes it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would make me very happy he gets to fix his life. Sana after 10 years, he'll be the best person that he can ever be. Tonight I can only wish him a good life. I pray that God will lead him to the right direction. That he may  not hurt his loved ones with the decisions that he's going to make and that his loved ones will not be hurting him as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I sound like I'm such a good friend. Siguro minsan ka lang talaga makakita ng super good friend. SObrang good friend pwede mo nang maging soulmate.  Kaso sabi ng classmate ko from highschool, ang soulmates hindi nagkakatuluyan. Siguro nga. We'll see after 10 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 10 years, I might be married. I might be dead. This blog site might not be working. I don't like looking back and reminiscing about the past. I'm not so keen on that. My memory is not retentive enough (that's why I like writing). I hope I'd still be able to remember him. I want to remember this-- This night when I chose to do the right thing. This night when I chose to love and value myself more. This night when I would want to be a top priority.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess, I have grown. I never thought growing up can be so sorrowful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emo. :/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-6602085220185062100?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/6602085220185062100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=6602085220185062100' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6602085220185062100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6602085220185062100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/09/you-are-wiser-than-you-think.html' title='&quot;You are wiser than you think&quot;'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-4549830576889389736</id><published>2010-09-18T20:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-18T20:12:49.904-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Youtube is therapy!</title><content type='html'>I guess this is what I'm going to do the whole day-- watch a lot of make up videos at youtube. I'm not feeling good today - physically. Emotionally sick as well. No appetite for going out or buying stuff or even talking to anyone. Youtube is the new therapy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my favorites: Nic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object style="background-image: url(http://i2.ytimg.com/vi/5zkpMQM_dAQ/hqdefault.jpg);" width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/5zkpMQM_dAQ?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/5zkpMQM_dAQ?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="480" height="295"&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/13607901-4549830576889389736?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/4549830576889389736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=4549830576889389736' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4549830576889389736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4549830576889389736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/09/youtube-is-therapy.html' title='Youtube is therapy!'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-1214363290546719958</id><published>2010-09-18T07:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-18T07:27:00.389-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid Lovelife</title><content type='html'>Been reading my previous entries and I saw a pattern. I've been complaining about my sick sad love life and my daily struggles at work. GOSH. Who would've thought I'm this negative. BAH. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, MOVE FORWARD. DON'T DIP YOURSELF INTO SOMETHING THAT DOESN'T MAKE YOU HAPPY NOR FULFILLED.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-1214363290546719958?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/1214363290546719958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=1214363290546719958' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/1214363290546719958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/1214363290546719958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/09/stupid-lovelife.html' title='Stupid Lovelife'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-3956004435933291449</id><published>2010-09-18T06:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-18T06:42:46.118-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Programmed.</title><content type='html'>noby: i've been thinking. if after 10 years, this is still the situation.. then you will have to make a good proposal and marry noby otherwise don't come looking for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cheeks: of course i will. you'll love me 4x if i do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;noby: by the way, she can't cook. she can't do the laundry - she can clean the house tho you have to make sure that her nebules are around. she doesn't like waiting and can be very demanding and inconsiderate when it comes to attention and time. She's a jealous bitch but opts not to show it. she loves surprises and doesn't like stinginess. She can't wake up early. She tends to be too friendly at times. She likes being alone except when she's sick. She likes kimchi with rice. She doesn't like broken promises. She spends big time when she's down. Once she starts crying, no one can make her stop. She's a handful who doesn't know much about the world. If you want to be a slave someday, you can have her. If not, then just go. It's as easy as that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cheeks: Noted, accepted, understood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you know if he is the one? I asked GOD for a sign. A year ago I told him that whoever asks me to be his wife (not his girlfriend) is THE one. To be honest, I never really want to undergo the famous "boyfriend-girlfriend" stage. I want things to be direct and simple. FIANCE and FIANCEE. I never needed a boyfriend but I've always wanted to have a husband -- or simply someone whom I can spend the rest of my life with. I know it's weird to hear this especially from someone who loves her freedom so much but I guess when you're already infront of that person, you wouldn't even think about the possible challenges that the two of you will face. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe love is programmed. Maybe it can be compared to a canned good which has an expiration date. We get married- we try to work it out - we get tired - we hurt each other - we look for other people to love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not asking GOD for a romantic marriage but I want one that is based in the best friendship possible. Marriage will always be a tough job. It is a tiring process where one has to be selfless and open-minded. It also consists of loyalty-- something that right now.. I don't know if anyone has it. Not even me. I think marriage is a tiring aspect of one's life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marriage. Is it for me? I hope so.I believe so even if majority thinks that I loathe it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-3956004435933291449?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/3956004435933291449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=3956004435933291449' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3956004435933291449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3956004435933291449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/09/programmed.html' title='Programmed.'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-4620053522803609251</id><published>2010-09-17T07:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-17T07:18:42.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quit Quit Quit today.</title><content type='html'>&lt;object style="background-image: url(http://i1.ytimg.com/vi/ttOgLhXlNHw/hqdefault.jpg);" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ttOgLhXlNHw?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/ttOgLhXlNHw?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every story told, every jokes I laughed at, every cans of coke that was opened is equivalent to a sad memory that I will be lugging around a few months from now. ..These memories that I'm not so sure if I'll still be here to recall a good 10 years from tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you think I'd still be the same after 10 years? No. Do you think the situation is going to be the same after 10 years? Maybe. Maybe not. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, I want things to be better.. not after tomorrow nor after 10 years. I want it to be better tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-4620053522803609251?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/4620053522803609251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=4620053522803609251' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4620053522803609251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4620053522803609251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/09/quit-quit-quit-today.html' title='Quit Quit Quit today.'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-8989325387851054834</id><published>2010-09-10T02:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-10T11:42:40.712-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Arriving at a Dead End</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt; 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I guess it’s the same feeling as driving for hours without knowing your destination. In those instances, what do you opt to do? Drive until you get tired of it? Do you go home or do you choose a new destination?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Sometimes I can’t help but feel that there are no choices. It is what makes it difficult. It is a feeling of entrapment and a wave of stupid defenses. I find it ironic because I’ve been toying with freedom for quite some time. However, I can’t get a good feel of it lately.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I feel like I’m driving towards nothing and no matter how much I remind myself that I am heading a dead end I am still moving in the same direction. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am writing this now because I am angry. I need to wake up and snap out of it before I hit the end of the road. I am driving so fast I am in deep fear but I am enjoying the ride – enjoying it too much to the point of almost being bumped off the road. Swift and dangerous but I would consider this as one of the best rides I’ve ever. It is fast with a lot of twists and turns that never fail to amuse me. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;I love it. It is a rush of different things and hard as it is to decide but I just have to stop myself from driving. I feel that there are no choices but I guess my head perfectly knows that there are plenty of them – some just don’t seem appealing to me. Hello REALITY.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;I wish I can stay this way for quite a long time. If only I can keep driving to a dead end for the rest of my life but a dead end is plain death of a journey. I can only drive so much. I am a mere driver, constructing roads or putting up a destination is already out of my hands. I can only do so much. I can only react so much. I can only stay silent at a certain time. I guess what I’m trying to say is I am about to head the opposite direction and settle for a path that would take me to endless bliss (if that ever exists). &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Funny how strong willed I sound in this musing when I know I’ll be loathing every hour that I will be off the road. Maybe this is how it should be. This fate is not solely grounded by the driver but also the one constructing the path. I can only drive for a certain time. 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&lt;/script&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-8989325387851054834?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/8989325387851054834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=8989325387851054834' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/8989325387851054834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/8989325387851054834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/09/arriving-at-dead-end.html' title='Arriving at a Dead End'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-652501638913488172</id><published>2010-08-01T00:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T01:11:47.215-07:00</updated><title type='text'>UNSister commented</title><content type='html'>Cham: Ate, may problema ka ba? Seryoso tong tanong na to ha. Para kasing may inner struggle ka.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Bakit?&lt;br /&gt;Cham: Kasi sunod sunod ang pag gastos mo. Every night may binibili ka.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lech! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, well. I have my issues-- endless issues. It's already piling up but I choose to keep it to myself unlike before when I'd share stuff to my trusted loved ones. Maybe it's because I know that it will all pass. I know after 6 months, it'll be all over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like before, I'm still striving to strike a balance. I'm already enrolled in my Bellydance class and this is already my 2nd month in the class. It's a good way to start the week. I was never a dancer and I look hella funny when I do the moves. Thankfully, my teacher (who happens to be my bestfriend) is really patient and specific when teaching the moves. My classmates are also very nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's August. My target is by September I should be enrolled in a short course in Fashion Styling. By hook or by crook.. I have to be enrolled. I already spoke to my boss regarding the classes (Mondays) and she's very supportive about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work is still work and it gets busier and busier each time. At most times, I feel alone at work. A one man team. I have the Training Manager with me but of course she's already a manager and I can't ask her to do stuff for me. Both of us handle different things. After finishing my short course in Fashion Styling, I'm hoping to resign and transfer to another company. BUT I'll try to get a promotion first and a raise in my salary.  If they can't give me what I want, I'll definitely leave.  I'm already getting sick because of the environment and too much work load.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't exactly know what will happen in the next days. Time is flying so fast. Things are changing fast. Somethings started-- like my fashion blog. Somethings ended -- like my longing to be taken cared of by someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I am still sad. I guess this is already a part of me. A natural part of me that is. What's crazy is I'm still hopeful that I'll be ok and things would turn out fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-652501638913488172?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/652501638913488172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=652501638913488172' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/652501638913488172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/652501638913488172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/08/unsister-commented.html' title='UNSister commented'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-6897648737860707105</id><published>2010-07-01T20:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-01T20:48:09.389-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Boooohoooo!</title><content type='html'>Today I realized that I don't have that much friends.&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-6897648737860707105?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/6897648737860707105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=6897648737860707105' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6897648737860707105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6897648737860707105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/07/boooohoooo.html' title='Boooohoooo!'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-4891058622706271685</id><published>2010-06-27T01:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-27T01:53:00.911-07:00</updated><title type='text'>View from the 23rd</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TCcPLjev59I/AAAAAAAAAIg/s0QI9G6fHA0/s1600/Photo0354.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TCcPLjev59I/AAAAAAAAAIg/s0QI9G6fHA0/s320/Photo0354.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487371362151426002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="caption" style="margin-top: 0px;"&gt;                                         &lt;p&gt;A view from my office of which I am about to lose. It has been a crazy tiring week. Done fixing the lockers for the employees. During the first day, I was able to leave the hotel at past 10PM. Second day, I left at around 8PM. Saturday (yes, even Saturday) work was done til 2PM. One word: TIRESOME.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I’ve been whining in my head. Thinking how under compensated I am as compared to my last job. I wanted to teach them people to say 2 easy words: THANK YOU. I’m bitching inside.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Today is my off and I’m spending the rest of my ME time in bed watching videos and reading articles. Then I stumbled upon this quote:&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;“For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone.”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;-Audrey Hepburn &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Something to shut me up as I endure this 8-5PM job til I reach my chosen path.&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;                                    &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-4891058622706271685?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/4891058622706271685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=4891058622706271685' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4891058622706271685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4891058622706271685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/06/view-from-23rd.html' title='View from the 23rd'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TCcPLjev59I/AAAAAAAAAIg/s0QI9G6fHA0/s72-c/Photo0354.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-7957425281233204820</id><published>2010-05-30T12:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T12:49:00.318-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Endless Dream</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TAHs2jUu2BI/AAAAAAAAAIY/_td_Fru8LGU/s1600/A_dream_is_a_wish_your_heart_makes-Cinderella-480x360-20091225.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TAHs2jUu2BI/AAAAAAAAAIY/_td_Fru8LGU/s320/A_dream_is_a_wish_your_heart_makes-Cinderella-480x360-20091225.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476919043798521874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The hotel is taking forever before it opens. Problems with the construction and others. I can hardly wait to transfer there, settle and fix some things and then finally enroll myself in a beauty school. I am getting more and more impatient day by day. Been reading articles, watching videos related to the craft every night after work. I've inquired in tons of school only to find out (everytime) that my work schedule is a big hindrance to this much awaited first step. God, grant me patience please. It's already June next week. 6 months to go before I turn 25 and I'm still not there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-7957425281233204820?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/7957425281233204820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=7957425281233204820' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7957425281233204820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7957425281233204820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/05/endless-dream.html' title='Endless Dream'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/TAHs2jUu2BI/AAAAAAAAAIY/_td_Fru8LGU/s72-c/A_dream_is_a_wish_your_heart_makes-Cinderella-480x360-20091225.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-883356896995354158</id><published>2010-05-22T21:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T21:01:01.063-07:00</updated><title type='text'>(:</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S_fVaJ-o9nI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/m_fuiyn_8wg/s1600/1z1r2ip.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 438px; height: 440px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S_fVaJ-o9nI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/m_fuiyn_8wg/s320/1z1r2ip.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474078517424092786" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-883356896995354158?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/883356896995354158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=883356896995354158' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/883356896995354158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/883356896995354158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/05/blog-post.html' title='(:'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S_fVaJ-o9nI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/m_fuiyn_8wg/s72-c/1z1r2ip.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-5493082189453872190</id><published>2010-05-18T10:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-18T10:34:00.230-07:00</updated><title type='text'>May 18 at 10:10pm</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="GBThreadMessageRow_Body_Content"&gt;        &lt;br /&gt;Hi Ma'am! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure kapag nanjan ako, may barrage na naman ng kwentos about you and the new cutie. Haha. Good luck with him.. and with your love life in general. :))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, malapit nang mag-start ang classes. And yes, I'm a nagger pero I nag you because I know deep in you that you had always wanted it; it's just that you need someone to remind you (constantly). I'm glad I was able to somehow fill that role. It's always nice to help, let alone help a friend like you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I'm always saying, go for what you love. In the end, you'll be happy and that is all that matters. We both want to make other people happy, but we should accept that we cannot truly make others happy without being happy ourselves. Remember that. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will. Maybe someday, I'll become Chief Justice or something. And you know what, when that happens, when I finally succeed in my chosen journey, you can be proud to say to the whole world that you played a big part of that journey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good luck to the both of us! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. I want Rai Rai Ken! Haha. Let's have dinner sometime. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PPS. You should be studying this June. No excuses. It would make me very happy, if anything and at the very least. :)       &lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-5493082189453872190?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/5493082189453872190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=5493082189453872190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/5493082189453872190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/5493082189453872190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/05/may-18-at-1010pm.html' title='May 18 at 10:10pm'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-3762115544126441440</id><published>2010-05-12T07:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-12T07:50:32.657-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's time..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S-rAF3NGFVI/AAAAAAAAAII/qFZVxGQK3EU/s1600/tumblr_l2bado6U4b1qc098po1_500.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S-rAF3NGFVI/AAAAAAAAAII/qFZVxGQK3EU/s320/tumblr_l2bado6U4b1qc098po1_500.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470395904345642322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to make a change!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-3762115544126441440?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/3762115544126441440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=3762115544126441440' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3762115544126441440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3762115544126441440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/05/its-time.html' title='It&apos;s time..'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S-rAF3NGFVI/AAAAAAAAAII/qFZVxGQK3EU/s72-c/tumblr_l2bado6U4b1qc098po1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-4350899065017762332</id><published>2010-05-04T05:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T06:42:25.842-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost Wallet</title><content type='html'>I lost my wallet today. Someone stole it - I guess. I'm trying to refrain from moping around about it. Can't help it. My money is in there. My IDs are in there. My cards are in there. What to do but to find another wallet and get new IDs. As for the money.. I can't wait for the next pay day. tee hee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to recall some nice things that happened recently..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S-AdWBBKdxI/AAAAAAAAAHw/3AWBJfeBFG8/s1600/Photo0306.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S-AdWBBKdxI/AAAAAAAAAHw/3AWBJfeBFG8/s320/Photo0306.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467402211695425298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                                        &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Yummy! :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S-AaDrZWHsI/AAAAAAAAAHo/K_k36UWaq_4/s1600/Photo0305.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S-AaDrZWHsI/AAAAAAAAAHo/K_k36UWaq_4/s320/Photo0305.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467398598118743746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                          &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;                       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;As promised by Chef Francis. Yay!! 3 slices of cakes made by Chef Jonathan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                         &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;                       I love love love the one with the strawberry on top.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;            &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S-AfITRD2EI/AAAAAAAAAH4/VzptOHlfLFI/s1600/31330_419238219922_688399922_5398687_3871718_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S-AfITRD2EI/AAAAAAAAAH4/VzptOHlfLFI/s320/31330_419238219922_688399922_5398687_3871718_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467404175099025474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hanging out with my friends at Friday's. I was happy to see my Renz (friend in the pic). I haven't seen her since last year. Busy sched with med school. Yes, in a few years she'll be a certified doctor.  (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S-AfIolUx9I/AAAAAAAAAIA/zlLop8B3atg/s1600/28200_415491342639_617497639_5083761_2461455_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S-AfIolUx9I/AAAAAAAAAIA/zlLop8B3atg/s320/28200_415491342639_617497639_5083761_2461455_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467404180821166034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Had dinner with the Chef Francis, Carvine, Priness and Kat at a place in Shang. We were supposed to try the food at Sta. Cruz, Manila but since it was raining, we opted to stay at Shang. Not bad.  The food was good. Love the Indian Rice and definitely love the company. It was a night of light discussion and laughter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will it be weird if I tell you right now that I feel better? A LOT better than I did before blogging and uploading these pictures. It's really unlucky to lose a wallet. For some it's more than unlucky. Right now I choose to look at the better side of life. It's not everyday that negative things will happen. Let's just look forward to the good ones. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-4350899065017762332?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/4350899065017762332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=4350899065017762332' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4350899065017762332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4350899065017762332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/05/lost-wallet.html' title='Lost Wallet'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S-AdWBBKdxI/AAAAAAAAAHw/3AWBJfeBFG8/s72-c/Photo0306.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-3639347206385563358</id><published>2010-04-25T20:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-25T20:28:00.268-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Answered Prayer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="GBThreadMessageRow_Info"&gt;For the past months, I have been thinking that working in the hotel was such a waste of time. I wasn't pursuing what I loved doing all because of paperworks, interviews and endless ironic dicussions with some department heads. I hated it. I hated every moment I'd look at my computer and check on the hiring status of the new hotel. It sucks having to sit in front of pc or having to ask both intellectual and behavioral questions to strangers I am not even a wee bit interested in. I would often ask myself why the heck am I staying there and it all boils down to this answer: I just want to help. I want to have a positive effect on people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being in HR sucks. There's almost no room for mistake but it feels good whenever I get to add value to the people I work with. I know I can still be an instrument of God even if I switch careers but something keeps holding me back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'll be leaving these good people soon. I'm already taking concrete actions to pursue my passion.  I've deprived myself of it and now I want to make up for the years I've tried to bury what truly defines me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway.. sharing a message from a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span class="GBThreadMessageRow_Date"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friend April 25 at 7:11pm       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="GBThreadMessageRow_BranchLink" bindpoint="branchLinkWrapper"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="GBThreadMessageRow_ReportLink" bindpoint="reportLinkWrapper"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;                   &lt;/div&gt;            &lt;div class="GBThreadMessageRow_Body_Content"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; .......today i know what gratefull feels, went to church not to hear mass but to talk to Him again after a very long time as if He was just right beside me, asked Him if He can forgive for all that i have done wrong lately, then its kinda spontaneous i thanked Him, the thought just suddenly came off my mind, this is probablly the doing of the person i was talkin about last night these person might have been prayin also to open my mind and my heart, i instantlly thanked Him for letting me cross paths with this person then i asked Him one more thing before i left, can i have this person as my friend forever, He probablly tapped my back and whispered something which sounded " you will".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;as i walked out of church this old lady approached me and offered me to buy some roses, i was surprised coz she was only selling white roses, then it occured to me that i gave this person white roses as a peace offering, was that a sign, did He answered my prayers immediately, maybe he did, turned my head towards the church and smilled, and in my mind i said what a way to show your answer, then in my mind i thanked this person and said "wow you do really have something that makes me laugh or smile"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;now to face these challenges ahead made me ready for it.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;maybe a whole chapter just for you, thank you!       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-3639347206385563358?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/3639347206385563358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=3639347206385563358' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3639347206385563358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3639347206385563358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/04/answered-prayer.html' title='Answered Prayer'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-3728550909635070779</id><published>2010-04-25T10:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-25T10:58:00.576-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Leave</title><content type='html'>God.. please help ease my friend's mind.  As much as I want to comfort him, I know I can't be there for him all the time. Guide and prepare him to face his sad world. Let your presence be felt by him. I hope he'll be able to understand and accept all the disappointing things that are happening to him. Let him see these as mere challenges.  Give him another chance to trust you again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, thank you for not leaving me when I was down in the dumps. I was once like him. I once hated you and blamed you for everything. I know I can't be considered as one of your best daughters but I'm grateful that you've guided and is still guiding me through this journey. I still have no idea as to where I am heading but I know that I am destined to be somewhere far better than where I am now. I trust your judgement and I have faith in your plans. I will continue to be of service to your other sons and daughters even until I have reached my ultimate destination. I am scared and I know that you are aware of that. Just be by my side. Don't let me down. Not right now. Despite of the 5 years that you've added to my life, I am still mending. Don't leave me God. Not now. Not tomorrow nor the days to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-3728550909635070779?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/3728550909635070779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=3728550909635070779' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3728550909635070779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3728550909635070779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/04/dont-leave.html' title='Don&apos;t Leave'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-5145659961171724038</id><published>2010-04-24T19:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-24T20:03:07.201-07:00</updated><title type='text'>From a Friend</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;From a friend..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FRIEND   April 25 at 2:20am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;sorry bout the cat thing, just being honest thats all and besides just like what i've said your the only person who understands me these days. well you know your right, that God must have a really good reason why i'm here and why you are too, your deppresed somewhat and i'm disgusted somewhat so maybe God led me to you to let me understand something which untill now i still cant see, maybe if i open up a little bit? coz you said i have already closed my mind, right? but you seem to see right through me which sometimes scares me, you got something whcih i dont know what, but you seem find a way through my thick skull and my stoned out heart to be melow or understand whats happening, you have a way to make me laugh or smile sometimes regardless on how i feel, maybe because i'm depprived of a good conversation with someone who is &lt;leo_highlight style="border-bottom: 2px solid rgb(255, 255, 150); background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; cursor: pointer; display: inline; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" id="leoHighlights_Underline_0" onclick="leoHighlightsHandleClick('leoHighlights_Underline_0')" onmouseover="leoHighlightsHandleMouseOver('leoHighlights_Underline_0')" onmouseout="leoHighlightsHandleMouseOut('leoHighlights_Underline_0')" leohighlights_keywords="smart" leohighlights_url_top="http%3A//shortcuts.thebrowserhighlighter.com/leonardo/plugin/highlights/3_1/tbh_highlightsTop.jsp?keywords%3Dsmart%26domain%3Dwww.blogger.com" leohighlights_url_bottom="http%3A//shortcuts.thebrowserhighlighter.com/leonardo/plugin/highlights/3_1/tbh_highlightsBottom.jsp?keywords%3Dsmart%26domain%3Dwww.blogger.com" leohighlights_underline="true"&gt;smart&lt;/leo_highlight&gt; and intellectual, you really are a good friend to have, to tell you honestly sometimes i'm pissed of when some people say things bout you coz they tend to judge you before they learn the facts or they just dont know who you are, i tend to protect the people who understands me, really you do, i know the day will come that we have to go our seperate ways but hey where ever i may be, i wont forget that one time in my life, i met a person like you, just like what i've promised, if ever my writtings is published, you will be there for sure, but if not, i'll make sure your one of the few who will read it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;.."its 3 am and i'm still wide awake, its evil time and thats probablly why, my mind is so full of ideas, plans, dreams and thoughts, but when morning comes it all disappears, God really works mysteriously, maybe someday i get to undertstand Him again, looking forward to it though, wtih a little bit of help with people who knows me, but for now thay are rare breed, coz probablly they just dont like to know why, but then again there are some who tends to listen patiently, maybe i found that person, i do hope that person will be patient with me this time coz i hate loosing them, the only person i know who knew me well enough to understand me had to go to another place which made me really sad, but then again as the saying goes " if God closes a door He opens a window" a small window, a small person with a big heart, have i found this person or has this person found me. a little bit of crayziness and once also conffused, but it dosent matter as long as this person can understand me and see right through me, has a way in making me laugh or smile despite what ever maddness is in my mind, makes me reallize that The Lord is just testing me and my faith, scarry at times but really just loves to laugh. if i ever met you i promise there will be a place in my heart for you. but then again, its just wishfull thinking"......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;o ayan na isulat na kita sa book ko or anong tawag dyan writtings. save mo para pag tumanda ka e maalala mo pa ako, almost sunlight, balik na ako sa lunga ko hehehehee thank God for you mam, may blessings pa din 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&lt;/script&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-5145659961171724038?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/5145659961171724038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=5145659961171724038' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/5145659961171724038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/5145659961171724038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/04/from-friend.html' title='From a Friend'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-1423225465032532546</id><published>2010-04-04T01:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-04T01:22:14.947-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First Step</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The first step to Sanity is always the hardest.  The 4 days vacation is almost over. Tomorrow's another chance to deal with reality. I finally had the courage to tell my bestfriend about my situation. It took me days before I finally decided to open up and seek for help. Yes, it seems weird but I tend to veer away from people when I'm messed up. But then I'm glad that I sought help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;One of the most helpful messages that my sis sent me..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hi Sis!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I would love to dance with you. :) I am opening a class in June and venue na lang ang hinahanap ko. I'll let you know once its open. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hehe, alam mo college palang tayo, you were already too hard on yourself. Ako nga, naniniwala ako sa kakayahan mo eh. Lalo na yung pag dedesign mo. Nakikita na nga ang talent mo with the way you dress eh. Kaya pinagdarasal ko palagi na ituloy mo din yun. Nag enroll ka na ba for courses dun?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Naku, totoo yang sinabi mo. You are someone who is really fond of reflecting. I think naman na its a healthy exercise, as long as wag kang padadala sa malulungkot na thoughts pag yun na ang naiisip mo. Basta sis, wag ka mag doubt sa kaya mong gawin at sa gusto mong gawin. You are destined to succeed. :) Andito lang kami lagi to support you. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;In my experience, belly dancing helped me to feel free and in control of myself. Chaka it is really such a stress reliever for me. Thats why I have grown to be passionate about this. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I honestly believe that this could help you also with your stress or whatever things you are thinking of right now. :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Excited na ko dance with you. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The following months will be full of activities (hopefully). I'm aiming for activities that will help me free myself from everyone's expectations.  No.. It doesn't involve drinking and partying. It's more of challenging myself - do things that I have always wanted to do when I was younger.  I just need to explore another side of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-1423225465032532546?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/1423225465032532546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=1423225465032532546' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/1423225465032532546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/1423225465032532546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/04/first-step.html' title='First Step'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-9006957110112139415</id><published>2010-04-02T05:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-02T05:57:01.203-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The path to my heart..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S7Xn27U7zUI/AAAAAAAAAHg/nAt_PaiHSvA/s1600/blindfolded.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S7Xn27U7zUI/AAAAAAAAAHg/nAt_PaiHSvA/s320/blindfolded.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455521454453673282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;is nowhere to be found. It's blocked with big thorn-like defenses and I'm already exhausted of trying to find my way to get in touch with what I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are days when the path seems to lighten up but most days are just the same.  Every day is a battle with myself. Mr. Melancholy is eating me up alive.  What should I do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;God, lead me to where my heart is. I only have two feet - I can only do so much. I know I lack effort on my end. I procrastinate and I fear a lot. I get lost almost every time. But I want to be there badly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-9006957110112139415?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/9006957110112139415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=9006957110112139415' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/9006957110112139415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/9006957110112139415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/04/path-to-my-heart.html' title='The path to my heart..'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S7Xn27U7zUI/AAAAAAAAAHg/nAt_PaiHSvA/s72-c/blindfolded.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-7969962316636405889</id><published>2010-03-29T08:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-29T09:07:27.678-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Split Splat Thoughts</title><content type='html'>I wouldn't be blogging tonight if not for my friend - R.  Yes, he accidentally discovered this freaking blog. I haven't blogged for a while. It seems like I only open this site whenever I'm negatively negative and "groping for every inch of positivity".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's up with me lately? My nose was buried in a lot of work - tons! That I decided to slow down and take it easy. I'm trying to catch up on my youth. I'm feeling lonely and old lately. Maybe I'm a natural melancholic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I Crazy? Maybe. Maybe Not. Maybe about to be..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I still have more time for myself. Wish I have more chances to do the things I love. Wish I have more patience to wait for that...............................................someone. Whoever he is. Where the hell is he?? Tell me, is he dead?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if I'm not meant to be here? What if I'm meant to work in another place? What if I'm meant to leave behind everyone? What if... all I can ask is What if? What if I'll never find the courage to.......??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then.. maybe I'm the only one stopping myself? Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's not my family. Maybe it's not the society.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I feel like I'm locked up in a cage? Why do I feel like I can do so much more? Why do I feel like I'm running out of time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Move fast, lil me. Move faster. Too much planning might ruin everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-7969962316636405889?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/7969962316636405889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=7969962316636405889' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7969962316636405889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7969962316636405889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/03/split-splat-thoughts.html' title='Split Splat Thoughts'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-5724405795246115378</id><published>2010-02-17T23:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-17T23:15:00.217-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Positivity</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S3wHi-mMCmI/AAAAAAAAAG4/Z9jYABQMBi4/s1600-h/5811_1203990979092_1208149697_30591551_545817_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 249px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439230747456834146" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S3wHi-mMCmI/AAAAAAAAAG4/Z9jYABQMBi4/s320/5811_1203990979092_1208149697_30591551_545817_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter won't mind."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Another dose of positivity. It's nice to see someone trying her best to cheer up and try to inspire a lot of people despite of her own personal concerns. Kudos to Kandee!  :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-5724405795246115378?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/5724405795246115378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=5724405795246115378' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/5724405795246115378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/5724405795246115378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/02/positivity.html' title='Positivity'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S3wHi-mMCmI/AAAAAAAAAG4/Z9jYABQMBi4/s72-c/5811_1203990979092_1208149697_30591551_545817_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-6857071394497701301</id><published>2010-01-31T04:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T05:01:34.387-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Feb. 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S2V9lVcp7VI/AAAAAAAAAGw/0YI9BmJYZFA/s1600-h/125DB2134A50CDDA2D61FB.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432886605858336082" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S2V9lVcp7VI/AAAAAAAAAGw/0YI9BmJYZFA/s320/125DB2134A50CDDA2D61FB.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Tomorrow's another day! Let's gooooooo ouuuuuuut!!!!!! WOoooooopeeeedoooOO! :0 Yes yes... I'm conditioning myself tonight. Tomorrow's another fun day at work. YEY! ..BAH! ..Lately, work's not fun at all. "UMAY" is the word. After surpassing the office rumors, I'm still faced with the challenge of recruiting employees for the new hotel. Work's not fun but THANK GOD it's not too much of a hell either. I guess it's safe to say that things are flat except for my booboos here and there. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Gosh, do I sound demotivated tonight? :P Anyway highway.. Tomorrow's another day and tonight, I'm not making sense at all. :&amp;amp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-6857071394497701301?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/6857071394497701301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=6857071394497701301' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6857071394497701301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6857071394497701301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/01/feb-1.html' title='Feb. 1'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/S2V9lVcp7VI/AAAAAAAAAGw/0YI9BmJYZFA/s72-c/125DB2134A50CDDA2D61FB.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-2610968091038162941</id><published>2010-01-01T10:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T10:54:00.430-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy 2010!</title><content type='html'>Celebrating the coming of new year was a bit different this time. It was a solemn one for me. No booze, No loud music, No shouting and laughing out loud. It was more of contemplating about what happened the previous year, relaxing my mind (yes, trying not think about work because the workaholic in me wants to go to work ASAP), and just zoning in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;January 1, 2010. I woke up late today. It feels like just an ordinary one except that we are all a year older. My dad asked me to read an article that he found over the net. It says: "How to make your wish come true" by Ramon Tulfo.  Gosh, it's already 2010 and I doubt that my wishes would be granted. But then I ended up reading the article because he was so persistent about it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The article was quite similar to the idea of visualization and thanking the universe. More of like Rhonda Byrne's The Secret. Deary, I've had enough of these things. I visualize every night. I update my dreamboard every quarter. What's good is, I often get the material stuff that I asked. I guess it's much harder if you try to ask for a person right? :P  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm glad that I read the article. It somehow flipped my mood this morning. From blah and bored to hopeful and  floaty. Maybe the reason why I'm not that excited with 2010 is because I don't believe that I need a "new" year to start a new beginning. I continuously reinvent myself. Actually there's too much reinvention going on sometimes. I'm perked up by unusual situations and not by new calendars and fireworks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Anyhoooo... My 1st blabbbbbb of 2010. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-2610968091038162941?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/2610968091038162941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=2610968091038162941' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/2610968091038162941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/2610968091038162941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2010/01/happy-2010.html' title='Happy 2010!'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-4736308994661062518</id><published>2009-12-26T08:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-26T08:06:30.842-08:00</updated><title type='text'>HELP HELP HELP!</title><content type='html'>HELP!&lt;br /&gt;How do you tire yourself from missing someone?&lt;br /&gt;HATE IT.&lt;br /&gt;I am sooo not tired of missing him that I am sooo not tired of doing my work at home.&lt;br /&gt;THIS IS SICK.&lt;br /&gt;It's just infatuation right? Bleh. &gt;P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-4736308994661062518?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/4736308994661062518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=4736308994661062518' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4736308994661062518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4736308994661062518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/12/help-help-help.html' title='HELP HELP HELP!'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-7643009972849877380</id><published>2009-12-26T04:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-26T04:55:16.691-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Santa Claus</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SzYENtgq1gI/AAAAAAAAAGo/XnGyts8Gq3E/s1600-h/santa_reading_letters%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419523835188401666" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SzYENtgq1gI/AAAAAAAAAGo/XnGyts8Gq3E/s320/santa_reading_letters%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dear Santa Claus,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It might already be too late as Christmas day is already gone but I want to write this short message. First of, I'm so blessed to be surrounded by a few good people. I may have been disappointed because of particular ol' friends but because of such experience, I was able to discover the other set of good friends that I have always had. They might also disappoint me in the future but I'm glad that I am able to know their good side. Second, you know that I have failed in attaining my objectives for this year but I want you to know that I'm very blessed to be able to work with patient and gentle directors right now. I know I am part of a top organization but hopefully after a year or two, I'll be managing one. Third, many thanks for letting me be a part of a very lenient family who in their own ways tried to comfort me in my periods of anxiety and silence. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I just want to thank you right now. I'm trying not to ask for anything. You must be tired of trying to grant everyone's Christmas wishes. Even the jolliest person gets tired too, right? Things are not ok for me right now and I'm guessing that you know why. But I will be fine. It will be fine. Soon but not now. Bleh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Anyway dear Santa, I will have to stop this. Just like you, I also have tons of work to do. Need to work to keep me sane and sober. Need to extend my hours of work to keep me from thinking about certain matters until the wee hours of the morning. Stuff. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Til Christmas 2010,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Caeyo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-7643009972849877380?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/7643009972849877380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=7643009972849877380' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7643009972849877380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7643009972849877380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/12/santa-claus.html' title='Santa Claus'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SzYENtgq1gI/AAAAAAAAAGo/XnGyts8Gq3E/s72-c/santa_reading_letters%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-988347405649675811</id><published>2009-12-25T01:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T02:30:32.970-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Can you? Can you not?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SzSPSJDtYUI/AAAAAAAAAGg/Fts3fGj7GBU/s1600-h/cliff.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 259px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419113793465442626" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SzSPSJDtYUI/AAAAAAAAAGg/Fts3fGj7GBU/s320/cliff.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SzSOKhx8nmI/AAAAAAAAAGY/aEh_tcN-_14/s1600-h/spaceball.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 1px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 1px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419112563151248994" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SzSOKhx8nmI/AAAAAAAAAGY/aEh_tcN-_14/s320/spaceball.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It was a big disappointment when I saw him excused his self and left the table after I finished a phone call. It was stupid because me and my friend pretended that the call came from a special person. Duh. It came from a special person - it was my dad who called. We playfully giggled with each other while we waited for his reaction. And... there... after less than 5 minutes of non stop giggling, he excused his self and decided to leave early.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I've been ignoring him for the past days. Successfully ignoring him for 1 week already. Congratulate me please. It's tough not to look at him. It's even hard not to smell him. Yes yes yes... I can even smell his perfume in our elevators. Sucks big time. It leaves me missing him. But then again, I have no choice left but to stand for myself since he can't really stand up for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I have fully confirmed that I really have AN effect on him. Maybe he just lied that night. Maybe. Maybe not. I don't get the part where he chooses to reject me whenever I approach him and yet he tries his best to grab my attention everytime I diss him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;To be on the safe side, I'll just leave it to this: He likes the attention that he gets from me but he doesn't like me. And since this is the case, I'd rather be nothing to him. No smiles from me. No eye contact. No hi's and goodbye's. No nothing. It's all or nothing and with the way things are... I think he has long chosen NOTHING. So be it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It's a tough decision since I'm a softy. I value relationships but I can't hold on to crap like this. I need to be valued once and for all. I might be down once in a while.. might be missing him whenever.. but laying my heart on the line all over again will never change the situation. I've done my part and now it's his turn. It's his turn to jump and take a risk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Question is, is he man enough to take that risk?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&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/13607901-988347405649675811?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/988347405649675811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=988347405649675811' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/988347405649675811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/988347405649675811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/12/can-you-can-you-not.html' title='Can you? Can you not?'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SzSPSJDtYUI/AAAAAAAAAGg/Fts3fGj7GBU/s72-c/cliff.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-3039831458276033739</id><published>2009-12-20T07:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-20T07:34:37.361-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Withdrawal Night</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Girl: I don't actually believe that love exists.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Boy: Love does exist.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Girl: Really now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Boy: Hahaha, let me the one to show you that love does exist.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Boy..Oh Boy. Where is the love that you talked about?  You talked about it and now I'm addicted to it. It's a hell of a withdrawal night. It's already 11:23PM and I have to be up by 4AM. I keep on re-reading old messages from last month's rendezvous as if it's going to make things real. Caeyo.. wake up! These messages are made because of the influence of alcohol. The care is not there. The warmth is not there. The connection is not there. Nothing's there except one drunken night followed by non sober days. Caeyo.. stop it! Stop thinking about him -he might even be sleeping and dreaming about someone else at this hour.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Caeyo, you poor girl. Why do you have to do this to yourself? You are worth more than a toddler. Don't waste it. Don't waste your energy on someone like him. Don't. Just STOP thinking about him. Think about the better days to come. Think about your work. Think about all the things you wanted to do. The world is yours remember? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Caeyo. Caeyo. Caeyo. I know you'll get through it. You'll be ok soon. Just hold on. Don't feel bad about yourself. Don't let this situation deflate your self-esteem. Don't let this break you. You have experienced the worst. This is not the worst. Remember when you used to cry yourself to sleep because of an old heartbreak? You got through it right? You have your friends. You have your family. You have God. You have yourself. Do take care of yourself. Don't mind him. Focus your attention on the goodness of tomorrow. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I don't know if I should tell you to hold on or just let him go. I am confused too. But one thing is for sure, you have to hold your ground and realign with your old positive self. It's not yet the end of the world caeyo. It's just one those withdrawal nights.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&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/13607901-3039831458276033739?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/3039831458276033739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=3039831458276033739' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3039831458276033739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3039831458276033739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/12/withdrawal-night.html' title='Withdrawal Night'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-6847444008805166983</id><published>2009-12-19T20:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T20:49:51.547-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Already Gone</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Sy2swygFSQI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/NbyDM6NfluE/s1600-h/14533_223259632639_617497639_4026131_6209530_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 180px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417175880986609922" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Sy2swygFSQI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/NbyDM6NfluE/s320/14533_223259632639_617497639_4026131_6209530_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;                                      &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_hHjeirH0g"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_hHjeirH0g&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;                                           Finally about to fill your cup of egocentricity.&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/13607901-6847444008805166983?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/6847444008805166983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=6847444008805166983' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6847444008805166983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6847444008805166983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/12/already-gone.html' title='Already Gone'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Sy2swygFSQI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/NbyDM6NfluE/s72-c/14533_223259632639_617497639_4026131_6209530_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-6790500819531770877</id><published>2009-12-18T21:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T22:09:43.616-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Flyering Rejections</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Syxo7_OhFHI/AAAAAAAAAGI/3_DAAWoXko0/s1600-h/flyers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416819831613756530" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Syxo7_OhFHI/AAAAAAAAAGI/3_DAAWoXko0/s320/flyers.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Spent my Friday at Eastwood handling out flyers for our job vacancies. Got to admit it didn't feel good doing the job.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It was an experience. I'll never forget of being continuously rejected by these strangers. I was walking around with a bunch of flyers in my hands when I suddenly thought that "Hey .. this is what has been happening to me lately." Handing out flyers is like handing out a piece of yourself to someone. Some were interested while others were not. It even came to a point when the fliers were rejected 5 consecutive times. What to say.. mm.. It really takes courage to handout a piece of yourself to a person. Not everyone will take the risk of stepping forward to show another what she can offer. A colleague openly told me that she doesn't want to do the flyering because she hates being rejected. Well, who likes being rejected anyway? :) The important thing is you've tried.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I tried. I tried my best to finish the flyers. I tried my best to offer the best of me to someone who wouldn't even dare to extend his arms to check out the other side of me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What's good about being continuously rejected is that you get used to it. The first rejction was more of a shock. The second rejection makes one realize the strategy being used to the subject. The third rejection can make one feel bad about his self. The fourth can make one feel desperate - can make one leave and give up. The fifth is the crucial one - it's when one already feels NUMB from the rejections.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I guess when a person gets numb from a series of rejections, it makes one to stay still and hybernate. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I am hybernating from the rest of the world today. I just don't understand why everytime I choose to hybernate, the heavens would send me a message that I've to hold on and nurture these feeling (a mix of sadness, love, confusion and disappointment). You see, I attended the 4AM mass. The homily was about miracles and faith. Weird. I planned on moving forward after this hybernation and now I'm getting a message about having a strong belief that nothing is impossible.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Am I just being impatient because of the series of rejections I got from him for the past days? Or is there really hope for the flowers? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Hay. Cheers to hybernation. Bleh! &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/13607901-6790500819531770877?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/6790500819531770877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=6790500819531770877' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6790500819531770877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6790500819531770877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/12/flyering-rejections.html' title='Flyering Rejections'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Syxo7_OhFHI/AAAAAAAAAGI/3_DAAWoXko0/s72-c/flyers.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-2189155222520156525</id><published>2009-12-17T05:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T06:13:04.073-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mannequin</title><content type='html'>Hard to deal with a mannequin. I'm 80% sick and tired of it.&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Syo5ARd0JvI/AAAAAAAAAF4/OV6nRsNJWK8/s1600-h/ist2_4965780-boy-mannequin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 213px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416204178717681394" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Syo5ARd0JvI/AAAAAAAAAF4/OV6nRsNJWK8/s320/ist2_4965780-boy-mannequin.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Happy birthday mannequin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mannequin - Katy Perry&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How do I get closer to you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When you keep it all on mute&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How will I know&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The right way to love you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Usually the queen at figuring out&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Breaking down a man is no work out&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I have no clue to get through to you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wanna hit you just to see if you cry&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I keep knocking on wood&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hoping there's a real boy inside.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cause you're not a man&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You're just a mannequin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wish you could feel&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That my love is real&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But you're not a man&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wish I could just turn you on&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Put a battery in and make you talk&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even pull a string to say anything&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But with you there is no guarantee&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Only expired warranty&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A bunch of broken parts&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and I can't seem to find you're heart&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm such a fool&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm such a fool&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm such a fool&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This one's out of my hands&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't put you back together again&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cause you're not a man&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You're just a mannequin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wish you could feel&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That my love is real&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But you're not a man&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You're just a .. toy&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Could you ever be a real, real boy&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and understand&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But you're not a man&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh understand&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That you're not a man..&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/13607901-2189155222520156525?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/2189155222520156525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=2189155222520156525' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/2189155222520156525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/2189155222520156525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/12/mannequin.html' title='Mannequin'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Syo5ARd0JvI/AAAAAAAAAF4/OV6nRsNJWK8/s72-c/ist2_4965780-boy-mannequin.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-8368135948909117511</id><published>2009-12-14T09:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T06:20:57.212-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Takemoto Says.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SyeZZREpLtI/AAAAAAAAAFw/lKw27SzZaic/s1600-h/Photo0146.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415465736294969042" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SyeZZREpLtI/AAAAAAAAAFw/lKw27SzZaic/s320/Photo0146.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;" A day when everything is perfect, when everything will turn into memories, will eventually come. But I'll probably remember over and over again - you were there and everyone else was there. The day we all searched for just one thing." - Takemoto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A month in the making. I hope it will go away. He may be searching for one thing. But that one thing is not caeyo. NO.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Guess who is sad tonight? Tomorrow might be worse. The 17th might even be the worst. I can't see any progress - not even 1% of it. But then something tells me to grab on to dear HOPE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I am hoping not to get what I LOVE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I am hoping for something simpler.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I am hoping that time will fly fast.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I am hoping to wake up one day - free from my new addiction.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I hope to be healed from him - soon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-8368135948909117511?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/8368135948909117511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=8368135948909117511' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/8368135948909117511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/8368135948909117511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/12/takemoto-says.html' title='Takemoto Says.'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SyeZZREpLtI/AAAAAAAAAFw/lKw27SzZaic/s72-c/Photo0146.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-3382383941269188958</id><published>2009-12-05T21:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-06T05:13:20.705-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bite the Bullet</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SxusKe-G5jI/AAAAAAAAAFg/sS_vaPH753k/s1600-h/2z5kb5z-gvuento2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 248px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412108673328014898" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SxusKe-G5jI/AAAAAAAAAFg/sS_vaPH753k/s320/2z5kb5z-gvuento2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Sometimes the things we want are only a means to an end - the end being an emotion. It takes courage to free one's self from such strong means. However, it takes greater valor to bite the bullet in the expense of one's pride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...Poor tiger.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-3382383941269188958?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/3382383941269188958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=3382383941269188958' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3382383941269188958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3382383941269188958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/12/bite-bullet.html' title='Bite the Bullet'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SxusKe-G5jI/AAAAAAAAAFg/sS_vaPH753k/s72-c/2z5kb5z-gvuento2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-6285637159177187650</id><published>2009-12-05T08:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T08:15:52.667-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid BOX.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SxqE2hNOyLI/AAAAAAAAAFY/htv-ZkzikXw/s1600-h/Photo0070.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 230px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 163px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411783974400739506" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SxqE2hNOyLI/AAAAAAAAAFY/htv-ZkzikXw/s320/Photo0070.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It's amazing how a simple box can make you realize a thousand crappy things. Wish I didn't ask him to fix this crazy box of resumes weeksss ago. It only made me realize that I needed someone to do things for me - I needed support and all the stupid things that went along with it. All this time I thought that I'll always be THE supergirl. Just when you think you've had your guards up, that's when it'll absolutely hit you HARD. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SxqE2AkFP3I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/HLLsAMgZZAI/s1600-h/Photo0068.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 229px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 166px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411783965638213490" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SxqE2AkFP3I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/HLLsAMgZZAI/s320/Photo0068.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Congratulate me. I am a STRAIGHT woman. However, I am not liking the effects of it. Wish I could donate my heart to Mr. TinMan. I'll gladly take his place. It's an eternal bliss - being a robot and merely focusing on the daily tasks. It's hard being human. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-6285637159177187650?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/6285637159177187650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=6285637159177187650' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6285637159177187650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6285637159177187650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/12/stupid-box.html' title='Stupid BOX.'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SxqE2hNOyLI/AAAAAAAAAFY/htv-ZkzikXw/s72-c/Photo0070.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-87987148224953218</id><published>2009-12-03T07:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T07:36:03.262-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Curse/Gift?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Sxfafn8m1eI/AAAAAAAAAFI/HeCgqI_03ng/s1600-h/Picture+8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411033714142926306" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Sxfafn8m1eI/AAAAAAAAAFI/HeCgqI_03ng/s320/Picture+8.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                      &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;            (photo by: Ian Ruhter)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It's easy to assess someone by the way they look, talk, move, or even work. But what's being missed out in most cases is the fact that every person has a well kept story, reason and emotion -- desolately dying to be seen. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It's a curse and a gift to bleakly perceive the goodness of what's concealed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&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/13607901-87987148224953218?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/87987148224953218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=87987148224953218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/87987148224953218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/87987148224953218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/12/cursegift.html' title='Curse/Gift?'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Sxfafn8m1eI/AAAAAAAAAFI/HeCgqI_03ng/s72-c/Picture+8.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-2567436473379840788</id><published>2009-08-16T14:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T23:49:26.391-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Practical vs. Stingy</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Practical: concerned with actual facts and experience, not theory; plain, functional, and suitable for everyday use.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Stingy:  not generous in giving or spending money; ungenerously small or inadequate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;I have been bothered by the issue of Practicality vs. Stinginess.  It used to be something that never troubled me until the concern was shoved to my face in a gentle manner days ago. The way that it was relayed to me was not brutal at all but it was a harsh thrust to my ego.  At first I felt uncomfortable and didn’t understand the ill feeling that I had when I heard the word KURIPOT. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Am I really stingy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;After days of keeping quiet, I realized that I am not stingy but practical. I have learned the value of hard earned money since I was young. When I was in grade school, my parents would give me just enough allowance and I needed to save up for the things that I wanted to buy. When I was in high school, I learned to sell cookies and chocolates to my classmates so I can join my friends to the mall or to night outs. I pride myself for not asking money from my parents at such a young age. I vowed to myself that once I stepped out from school, I will always be independent.&lt;br /&gt;When it comes to buying things, I learned to scout for items that are of good quality yet don’t burn holes in my pocket. I consider that a talent I have mastered since college.  During that time, my uncle would give me a certain amount for my monthly allowance and I had to budget it – this includes my daily allowance, extra curricular payments for school activities/needs, and other necessities (hygiene, clothes, medicine, etc.). It was hard to plan for allocating resources but the experience made me a more mature individual. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have seen people purchase expensive stuffs. I watched them intently and promised myself that once things are fine, I’d be able to do the same.  You see, there are things in my life that are far more important than a new pair of shoes or a bag that costs a semester’s tuition fee. I can fly to another country, dine in a good restaurant, or even shop until I drop. I can do all these things now.But some PEOPLE RELY ON ME so I need to think first - think hard before spending for myself. It’s not like I starve myself to death or scour a rack of sale items (not that there’s something wrong about doing that). It's what you call BEING SELFLESS,KNOWING YOUR PRIORITIES and HAVING SELF DISCIPLINE (something that not all girls my age have). I just find it unfair that someone can easily judge me because she doesn’t understand where I am coming from or perhaps has forgotten where I am coming from.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel sad because it had to come from you – the person that I thought would not make me feel this way because (heck!) we share the same concerns.  I’m sorry I expected too much from you.  I don’t think there’s a need for me to state the brand of my wallet or my new make-up or things that I bought recently just so you’d pick up that I am not what you think I am. It’s too insignificant. Don’t see me by our differences. See me by how I treat you as a person - as a friend. See me by the things that I did when you needed help. See me when I had to cut ties with someone just to protect you. I hope you’d see that I value our friendship too much that’s why I’ll choose to forget about this and just let it pass.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I really am KURIPOT but when it comes to our friendship, I give way too much.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disappointing. =/&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-2567436473379840788?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/2567436473379840788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=2567436473379840788' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/2567436473379840788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/2567436473379840788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/08/practical-vs-stingy.html' title='Practical vs. Stingy'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-507774148779778574</id><published>2009-07-03T18:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T18:01:00.409-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Akkaranundha</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Sk3WZzsvAEI/AAAAAAAAAFA/AB6anyh2FzE/s1600-h/1x1_trans.gif"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;I just got back from a stressful interview. I think I didn't qualify for the job (yes, I kinda lost my optimistic sense this afternoon). Kind of disappointing because I like the ambiance of the whole office - I also like the employees. Disappointing really. BUT BUT BUT.. life has to go on. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;Maybe the job is not meant for me. I'm just disappointed (I think I use this word too much today) by the fact that I have to search for a good company again. It sort of feels like I have to find myself again (and again.. and again.. and again). Sometimes I feel like only an artsy type of person would understand what I'm going through.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;Today isn't really a loss. I met this guy at the lobby of the company that I applied at. He's Thai. He approached me and got my name and number (as well as my email). Told me that he'll be starting a company similar to the company that I applied at. But it's not going to be in the Philippines - it's in Thailand. Anyway, to make the story short.. he sent me a message inviting me to his business presentation --- which led me to check out the site. It's a cool site. It has tons of logos and graphics. I don't know how young he is but I was stunned when I found out in the website that he is actually the managing director of the company. He has garnered awards and stuff yet when you look at him, he looks so... down to earth and simple. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;Anyway, that's just it. I'm still thinking if I'll be coming to the presentation because it might just be networking. I'm really not the person to hire when it comes to that kind of biz. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;I got THE call!! They just called me to say that I'm shortlisted but I've to wait til July 17. Goshness. Hopefully they get to job offer me first. hehe  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&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/13607901-507774148779778574?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/507774148779778574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=507774148779778574' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/507774148779778574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/507774148779778574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/07/akkaranundha.html' title='Akkaranundha'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-4258145995546203114</id><published>2009-06-29T02:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T02:10:38.137-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Optimism</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SkiEWtaAAYI/AAAAAAAAAE4/akKmVDa7ndo/s1600-h/hope.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 281px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352673682810470786" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SkiEWtaAAYI/AAAAAAAAAE4/akKmVDa7ndo/s320/hope.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                        &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;           I'd like to think that there's still hope..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;                                                .. that hardwork pays off..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;                             ..and a clear conscience will get you to your destination.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-4258145995546203114?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/4258145995546203114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=4258145995546203114' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4258145995546203114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4258145995546203114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/06/optimism.html' title='Optimism'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SkiEWtaAAYI/AAAAAAAAAE4/akKmVDa7ndo/s72-c/hope.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-5659656608081252996</id><published>2009-06-25T03:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T04:01:42.861-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i'm NOT so ANGELIC afterall</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;Spent several hours netsurfing until I came upon my old highschool friend's page. The old bitter feeling that I had years ago came back to me. It was as if all mean things that she did to me when we were younger happened just yesterday. I wonder why she's the only person that I can't seem to forgive. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;Mmm... it's probably because I learned the real definition of friendship when she casted me out. I had to leave my bold set of friends because they were bullying her. I made her my best friend instead. After a few months, we formed our own group and they left me out. Worse,they bullied me. That's when my Loser state in highschool started. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;Bitter me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"&gt;It's a part of the past,I know. BUT then.. I'm not so angelic afterall.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-5659656608081252996?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/5659656608081252996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=5659656608081252996' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/5659656608081252996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/5659656608081252996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/06/im-not-so-angelic-afterall.html' title='i&apos;m NOT so ANGELIC afterall'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-6003932134276989164</id><published>2009-06-21T16:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T16:00:16.251-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hope</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Sj4AkxzZM3I/AAAAAAAAAEw/YIqdKWZC2Ek/s1600-h/vladstudio_starfieldsmall.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349714039206916978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Sj4AkxzZM3I/AAAAAAAAAEw/YIqdKWZC2Ek/s320/vladstudio_starfieldsmall.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;                                         &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;          A comic way of portraying hope..&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/13607901-6003932134276989164?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/6003932134276989164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=6003932134276989164' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6003932134276989164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6003932134276989164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/06/hope.html' title='Hope'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Sj4AkxzZM3I/AAAAAAAAAEw/YIqdKWZC2Ek/s72-c/vladstudio_starfieldsmall.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-3619545759916034737</id><published>2009-06-14T03:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T03:34:49.698-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Forgotten</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SjYjdUWo_SI/AAAAAAAAAEo/FY19pfkdxx0/s1600-h/music09.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347500594135891234" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 210px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SjYjdUWo_SI/AAAAAAAAAEo/FY19pfkdxx0/s320/music09.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;It's still weird how I have forgotten all that I have loved in past. I was so caught up in this fast paced work-world that I became deaf to what my soul was telling me. It felt like I was stuck in "Equilibrium" (yes, the movie) that hearing simple cluster of pitches from the piano can make my heart move and my tears fall. How can I be so melancholic?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I miss making music: singing, playing the piano, playing the guitar (though it sort of doesn't sound nice), play the flute (yes, i used to but now my feisty but lovable dog has played with it). I miss all these forgotten stuff. It's hard to bring them back and put them all together. All the while I thought I could bury it with my youth. But ... it was just a part of me. Once a musician - always a musician.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Gosh, I'm Emo-Boho.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&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/13607901-3619545759916034737?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/3619545759916034737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=3619545759916034737' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3619545759916034737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3619545759916034737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/06/forgotten.html' title='Forgotten'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SjYjdUWo_SI/AAAAAAAAAEo/FY19pfkdxx0/s72-c/music09.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-3720299319504893452</id><published>2009-05-23T00:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T01:22:19.591-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Affected by Show!</title><content type='html'>I can't believe I can't get over SHOW LUO's cyber misfortune.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;What happened to him was an eye opener. Shit happens to everyone. We get all get a piece of bad luck once in a while. It occured to me that it might've been lonely to be in his position. It's a given fact that he's successful and serious about his craft BUT having no privacy and having a hard time meeting sincere people  are things that money and fame can't buy. It's a pity that FANNY or TIFFANY (whatever her name is..) percieved matters in a negative angle. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Oh well, it'll pass. We always have another day  - another chance to make things right. Just look and move forward.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-3720299319504893452?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/3720299319504893452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=3720299319504893452' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3720299319504893452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3720299319504893452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/05/affected-by-show.html' title='Affected by Show!'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-6825851526213174837</id><published>2009-05-20T03:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-20T03:32:48.203-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The path of art...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/ShPcEb4bauI/AAAAAAAAAEg/1aYBwp94XGo/s1600-h/423875472_7413b362af_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 180px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337851952126192354" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/ShPcEb4bauI/AAAAAAAAAEg/1aYBwp94XGo/s320/423875472_7413b362af_m.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;...can suck you in. Scares me but is fulfilling.&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/13607901-6825851526213174837?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/6825851526213174837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=6825851526213174837' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6825851526213174837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6825851526213174837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/05/path-of-art.html' title='The path of art...'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/ShPcEb4bauI/AAAAAAAAAEg/1aYBwp94XGo/s72-c/423875472_7413b362af_m.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-8044705701037793711</id><published>2009-05-18T18:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T18:56:00.650-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who's next??</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/ShE-UheOVKI/AAAAAAAAAEY/8QazX5UsGtE/s1600-h/1_773475056l.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337115555714192546" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/ShE-UheOVKI/AAAAAAAAAEY/8QazX5UsGtE/s320/1_773475056l.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&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/13607901-8044705701037793711?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/8044705701037793711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=8044705701037793711' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/8044705701037793711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/8044705701037793711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/05/whos-next.html' title='Who&apos;s next??'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/ShE-UheOVKI/AAAAAAAAAEY/8QazX5UsGtE/s72-c/1_773475056l.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-4299445251079751685</id><published>2009-05-02T18:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-02T18:20:00.905-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Re: Decision Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Sfwdsuu1GtI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/jFlPXQOtWmY/s1600-h/a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331168713195723474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Sfwdsuu1GtI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/jFlPXQOtWmY/s320/a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                  &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;   Celebrating Vian's bridal shower (my official freedom day!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We make decisions everyday. It's something inevitable. Like what you've said " Life is UNPREDICTABLE". Everything seems to be a risk. Whether to blurt out words or choose to zip it. It's a mere matter of moving forward or not.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I am officially UNEMPLOYED. ...and I'm loving it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Loving it in a way that I get to spend more time with my family. It was hard to hand in my resignation letter. However, money can't buy principles most especially matters concerning pride and integrity.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Where would be my next destination? That I haven't figured out. I just knw that I'm heading somewhere exciting (gotta have an air of optimism). It's that firs time that I didn't prepare any plan A,B or C. I never realized that letting go and just enjoying my every "unplanned" moment would be like this. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;GKC,I agree with the quote that you shared:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Life is short&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Break the rules&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Forgive quickly&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Love truly&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Laugh constantly&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And never stop smiling&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;No matter how life turns out to be&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Life is not always the party that we expected&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;But as long as we are here, we should try to smile and be grateful&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Cherish life and be your best!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-4299445251079751685?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/4299445251079751685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=4299445251079751685' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4299445251079751685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4299445251079751685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/05/re-decision-time.html' title='Re: Decision Time'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Sfwdsuu1GtI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/jFlPXQOtWmY/s72-c/a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-7141822112881455387</id><published>2009-04-27T20:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T20:04:00.199-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Bye BULLDOG! Hello FREEDOM!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SfWdaniSVpI/AAAAAAAAAEI/v8Klrv9MGPY/s1600-h/Litrato0883.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329338814677800594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SfWdaniSVpI/AAAAAAAAAEI/v8Klrv9MGPY/s320/Litrato0883.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SfWdaXUV0KI/AAAAAAAAAEA/6EMNY9rpXB0/s1600-h/Litrato0881.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329338810324340898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SfWdaXUV0KI/AAAAAAAAAEA/6EMNY9rpXB0/s320/Litrato0881.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SfWdaBI4YsI/AAAAAAAAAD4/Kvvy8dKYyWc/s1600-h/Litrato0880.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329338804370694850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SfWdaBI4YsI/AAAAAAAAAD4/Kvvy8dKYyWc/s320/Litrato0880.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Been missing for a year. Just a simple glimpse of what happened from April 2008 - April 2009.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&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/13607901-7141822112881455387?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/7141822112881455387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=7141822112881455387' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7141822112881455387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/7141822112881455387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2009/04/good-bye-bulldog-hello-freedom.html' title='Good Bye BULLDOG! Hello FREEDOM!'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SfWdaniSVpI/AAAAAAAAAEI/v8Klrv9MGPY/s72-c/Litrato0883.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-5461301041608985302</id><published>2008-11-23T14:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T14:52:01.257-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reset</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SSj9gtB9L2I/AAAAAAAAACg/eeepSAveJ-4/s1600-h/Litrato0744.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271742102122606434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SSj9gtB9L2I/AAAAAAAAACg/eeepSAveJ-4/s320/Litrato0744.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                                     &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;     A blurry vision of myself &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Most days I feel so old (what an odd way to start an entry after many months of being M-I-A).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm on a reset. Being 22 and turning 23 in just a couple of months, I kind of lost myself in the fast world of hotels. I've gotten a good job, got stressed out, and was able to cope with it. But somehow between those busy moments I stop and just ... get lost.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I am not where I want to be. But I am where they want me to be. I guess I've been doing a great job in being a dummy. A puppet which everyone loves. I have an ideas as to what I want to do and seeing that I have already planted my career somewhere, I just can't seem to leave it. Although I have been "single" for some time, I am still chained by ME.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;If there's one thing that I want to do right now, it's flying to another country and get a fresh start from everything. Don't get me wrong, it's not an escape because things are going well so far. I may feel this way because I think I can do so much more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-5461301041608985302?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/5461301041608985302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=5461301041608985302' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/5461301041608985302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/5461301041608985302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2008/11/reset.html' title='Reset'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SSj9gtB9L2I/AAAAAAAAACg/eeepSAveJ-4/s72-c/Litrato0744.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-835067964297145360</id><published>2008-07-06T11:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T11:22:01.111-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Of contemplations and nothings</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SHAyXP_ceGI/AAAAAAAAACQ/-_BtUp-ew1s/s1600-h/123ug7xg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219727343133423714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SHAyXP_ceGI/AAAAAAAAACQ/-_BtUp-ew1s/s320/123ug7xg.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Cham and I were watching this korean movie and we suddenly realized that the lead actor looks a lot like my ex. great!! hehe.. Coincidentally, my ex's friend sent a text message (which was weird). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. 5 months to go and a new year will come. I haven't really done the things that I have always wanted to do. Here are some of it:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;take Mandarin classes&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;attend an Assertiveness Training Seminar&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Travel with Kureekoo and Abitoots&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Open 2 new bank accounts&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;voice lessons/dance lessons&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;start my business&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219731553060380994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SHA2MTMP4UI/AAAAAAAAACY/HncBi0elgqI/s320/Litrato0608.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;3. I've gotten really close with Kuree and Abitoots. We don't really consider each other as best of friends but it feels good to know that we consider our ties are REAL ones. We weren't this close when we were in college. There's probably a reason as to why we were able to establish such closeness. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;4. Do you know what it's like to be really really really happy? I have been undergoing this 10 day program so to know what makes me happy. Weird e? Well, when you work 12-14 hours a day -- 5 days a week (you can make it 6 if you count the time I work at home),  you'll tend to forget about yourself.  Tend to forget what makes you happy, what you've always wanted to do, what your purpose is.  Sometimes I feel like I'm being hard on myself. I feel like I'm giving too much and yet others see me as a selfish person. Hard. Should I keep on doing things so to make the important people in my life happy? Or should I listen to my heart and do the things that would make me happy?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;5. Zero lovelife for me. No exs. No beautiful stranger. No cow. No harky. Just K1. Don't ask me who K1 is. You'll laugh your ass off. :P &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-835067964297145360?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/835067964297145360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=835067964297145360' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/835067964297145360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/835067964297145360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2008/07/of-contemplations-and-nothings.html' title='Of contemplations and nothings'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SHAyXP_ceGI/AAAAAAAAACQ/-_BtUp-ew1s/s72-c/123ug7xg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-5846457336939935848</id><published>2008-04-16T14:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T21:16:26.309-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Straight TALK</title><content type='html'>I finally came up with the decision that I would like to be straight – a certified hetero. I haven’t been in a relationship for almost 3 years now and I barely went out on a date (of any kind). The time that I have spent solely for myself gave me a clearer view on what I really wanted to do with life. I don’t want to grow old alone; I want stability in my relationships. I want to be accepted by the society.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s a given fact that sexuality does not choose heart aches. We meet interesting people everyday. If lucky, we hop into a relationship with them. We experience the feeling of being in paradise and then one day we open our eyes and just realize that we can no longer work things out with them because of reasons – certain reasons. Even though I have perceived relationships in this way, I have noticed that hetero relationships have bigger chances of surviving (please correct me if I am wrong).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know being “straight” will not make things easier.   I think looking for a partner in the "straight world" is a lot difficult than the usual hooking up in my well experienced gay world. But if this is one of the few ways of being in a stable and well accepted relationship, then I will do it. I am actually doing it - being straight and all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got different reactions when I announced this. Some were happy and others were disappointed. I'm happy though. Quite happy with myself and yeah, sometimes frustrated. -- Frustrated by the fact that the male species don't think I am attractive. hehe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to make it clear that I'm not turning my back from the gay world. I'd like to keep all the friendships that I've established. I learned a lot in Queers' land and I hope to take these learnings with me as I step into this new territory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I'm going to stay like this my entire life. I'm only 22 and for sure there are a lot more experiences waiting for me.You're all welcome to test my being un-gay --- be the "record breaker" (as what my sister calls it)--- I'm up for the challenge. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-5846457336939935848?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/5846457336939935848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=5846457336939935848' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/5846457336939935848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/5846457336939935848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2008/04/straight-talk.html' title='Straight TALK'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-2419864514439712251</id><published>2008-04-08T21:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T21:14:46.135-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Socially Real</title><content type='html'>Watching RP made me feel sad bout where I am now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clearly, in this society there is a big gap between the elite and the mass. Inevitable situations arise when the elite percieves the poor as opportunists while the poor finds the elite snooty and hard to reach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel sad and somehow desperate that one day I might like someone who is of a higher class. I've witnessed friends and relatives (yes, sadly.. my relatives) having a mind built with barriers of riches and social status.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm starting to worry whether someday I'll be able to cross that barrier and triumphantly see the genuine selves of these privileged minority. I'm sure at least one of them has a chaste character.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-2419864514439712251?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/2419864514439712251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=2419864514439712251' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/2419864514439712251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/2419864514439712251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2008/04/socially-real.html' title='Socially Real'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-314965106130415353</id><published>2008-03-31T20:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T21:37:23.963-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good bye EnfraUSA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I left the company with a hug from the highest person in the company. It was a long and straightforward talk with him. I can't believe that he knows me too well (I'm really transparent, yes I know). During our conversation, he mentioned that I have a "free spirit" and I simply need to improve my "foresight". Although our conversation left me with a lot of questions, I guess I'd like to leave it this way. I will believe what I choose to believe in. And yes, I guess I'll have to work on my foresight. I'm pretty gullible and I have to learn to see what's behind situations and things. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I've established good relationships especially with the people I didn't expect to be in good terms with. Although at the beginning my relationship with the HR team was aloof and rocky, I'm happy because I left the company knowing that the team and I are (almost) inseparable. Things change and I'm glad that everything among us changed for the better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, this is a poem dedicated to the quiet and hardworking Sir Jim :) I've read this in The Spellbinder's Gift by Og Mandino and for some reason (I don't know why..) it reminded me of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE FACE IN THE GLASS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you get what you want in you struggle for self&lt;br /&gt;And the world makes you king for a day,&lt;br /&gt;Just go to a mirror and look at yourself&lt;br /&gt;And see what THAT face has to say.&lt;br /&gt;For it isn't your father or mother of spouse&lt;br /&gt;Whose judgment upon you must pass&lt;br /&gt;The person whose verdict counts most in your life&lt;br /&gt;Is the one staring back from the glass.&lt;br /&gt;Some people might think you're a straight - shooting chum&lt;br /&gt;And call you a great gal or guy&lt;br /&gt;But the face in the glass says you're only a bum&lt;br /&gt;If you can't look it straight in the eye.&lt;br /&gt;That's the one you must please, never mind all the rest&lt;br /&gt;That's the one with you clear to the end.&lt;br /&gt;And you know you have passed your most dangerous test&lt;br /&gt;if the face in the glass is your friend.&lt;br /&gt;You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years&lt;br /&gt;And get pats on your back as you pass,&lt;br /&gt;But your final reward will be heartache and tears&lt;br /&gt;if you've cheated the face in the glass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;*To my mom, Abby and Squish -- thank you for listening to me whine, laugh and cry about some interesting things that happened to me for the past year. :)&lt;/em&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/13607901-314965106130415353?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/314965106130415353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=314965106130415353' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/314965106130415353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/314965106130415353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2008/04/good-bye-enfrausa.html' title='Good bye EnfraUSA'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-9098702205343328998</id><published>2008-01-27T16:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-27T00:33:09.398-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Boredom. Boredom.</title><content type='html'>I feel weird. Ever since i started working, I don't really feel like interacting much with people (except if it's business related). I think it's bad. Lately, I've been buying stuff to compensate on some things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's my birthday tom. and it feels like it's just any other normal day. I sort of missed dating but I'm in a "no commitment" mode. Maybe I should get laid or something. hehe I just feel so lazy to do things. My plan of putting up a business is still a plan. My plan of changing my whole wardrobe is still a plan. My plan of applying for a better job is still a plan. What the hell happened to me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mmm.. I have to fix myself right away. I'm already 22 tom. -sigh- boredom. boredom. boredom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-9098702205343328998?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/9098702205343328998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=9098702205343328998' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/9098702205343328998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/9098702205343328998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2008/01/boredom-boredom.html' title='Boredom. Boredom.'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-3206565904891028051</id><published>2008-01-26T15:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T23:28:28.263-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm here in SPCP. A silly attempt to celebrate my birthday (which is a few days from today..).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- sigh -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss Squish. -bow- A part of me wants to spend my birthday with her.. while the other half.. I don't know.. wants to be alone. It's prolly because I used to spend my birthday with HP (who is now milessssss away from me..) and it's sort of our tradition to eat at tsoko.nut and have a good laugh about all that happened for the past year. I think I'll sort of feel guilty if I spend my day with someone else. But I don't know. mmm..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...bottomline is... I miss HP and Squish.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-3206565904891028051?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/3206565904891028051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=3206565904891028051' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3206565904891028051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3206565904891028051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2008/01/im-here-in-spcp.html' title=''/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-2997731460577971363</id><published>2008-01-13T23:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-13T07:31:22.174-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Do not Protect</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Have you ever felt like you’re supposed to be flattered but you actually feel the exact opposite?  Well, not really the exact opposite but you know… just not having a positive feeling about a certain thing that should be flattering (senseless!!).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s probably just a conversation with a friend. She was telling me about some things and I shared my opinion. And I guess in the end of our choppy conversation, I sort of got irritated because she kept on defending Ms. Patriot (the object of my abhorrence!). Well, what can I do? My friend really likes the girl. I guess this is just a bit new. I mean, I know she likes other people but I’ve never seen her defend someone like that. I’m just being cautious because I care for her. I’m just trying to protect her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Segue—I suddenly remember back in college when my bestfriend, HP, protected me against a certain someone that I liked. She had always thought that the person is bad news and I so stubbornly defended that person. It turned out that that person is not really good enough for me and I’m just blinded by the fact that I like her.  I know my story is so much different from my friend’s but… whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Going back – I guess I’m just taken aback by the way my friend defended Ms. Patriot. I don’t know what to feel; it’s not the nicest feeling. It’s a mixture of disbelief, jealousy, and annoyance. --- Especially when she told me that she thinks she should screen the things that she’s going to share with me. Ok. Then maybe she should just share everything with smarty ass Ms. Patriot. They’ve known each other for the LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONGEST time. It’ll do her just about all the good things in the world!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;(I can’t believe that while I’m doing this, I feel a lot worse. I’m getting so annoyed just by thinking about these things)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I absolutely don’t like the idea that Ms. Patriot and I have some similarities. Maybe I’m too judgmental. She might be a nice person but ever since I kind of disliked it when people tell me that I remind them of someone (attitude wise) or an unknown person and I have some similarities. I don’t mind being branded as weird, odd, or unusual--- I’ll take it as a compliment as long as I get to preserve my mark (Damn, I’m bad trip nga. Ang yabang ko na e.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;…ok…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;…calm down…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;My head is throbbing. Mmm… Be  rational, caeyo. Be rational.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I think I can’t do anything. If my friend really wants to hang out or be closer to Ms. Patriot then I’ll just let her be. It’s her choice. I can only say/do so much. Even if I piss myself off the whole night, in the end it’s still going to be her choice. And as a friend, I just have to respect it.  I just hope that Ms. Patriot (and Ms. Beleibt – another friend) will pay the same respect to her. I’m now drawing the line here __________________________________________________________.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I’m trying to think straight but I can’t deny the fact that I got hurt when my friend told me that she thinks she should screen the things that she’s going to share with me. I’m insulted. She sort of let me feel that I’m not such a good friend to her. I may be mia and  masungit but at least I’m trustworthy (proud to say that I am!). I’m bitchy and blunt but I don’t push for informations that don’t concern our FRIENDSHIP. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I’m so hurt that I feel like crying and I don’t fucken want to talk about it.&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/13607901-2997731460577971363?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/2997731460577971363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=2997731460577971363' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/2997731460577971363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/2997731460577971363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2008/01/do-not-protect.html' title='Do not Protect'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-5649768864156272348</id><published>2007-12-07T11:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-07T19:15:57.838-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Band Aid Tendencies</title><content type='html'>I love helping people. Once, I told my cousin that probably my purpose in life is to help and enlighten anyone. But there are just some instances when I wish that they'd stop treating me as a Band Aid - a mere cure for their heartaches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can always take them home but I wish they can also drive me to my destination. Sort of a give and take thing. I am probably just blabbing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss my HP. She's one strong person and I wish for her to be happy.  Someone who'd fight for me. I'd really fight to death for her too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss my friends in AC. I miss the PEEPZ. I miss the hugs, the stories, the food trips, crying and laughing time, and even our academics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss being myself - the perky girl in our circle. All the workload in our office is wearing me out.&lt;br /&gt;They're being very strict to the extent that we're losing the people. Well, they're going to lose me soon... and this time, it's going to be for good. I also feel like a Band Aid in my office... well, more of a Gauze Bandage. Absorber of the bloody whinings of some self absorb - know all person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's just it for today. +Bow+&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-5649768864156272348?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/5649768864156272348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=5649768864156272348' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/5649768864156272348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/5649768864156272348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2007/12/band-aid-tendencies.html' title='Band Aid Tendencies'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-6601935571378757700</id><published>2007-11-25T09:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T17:45:39.871-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mr. TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE</title><content type='html'>Dear Mr. Too-GOOD-To-Be-TRUE,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am writing to you right now because you are making me frustrated. You are simply too good to be true. You know a lot about life and you undoubtedly share my opinion about almost all that comes with it. Our conversations have already made a mark on me. You are one gentle and innocent man and I have never met one who thinks and acts the way you do. You think ahead of everyone else and at the same time, I still see the child in you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have curled yourself in a world that I am lucky enough to have witnessed. I am glad that you have shared a portion of your antediluvian realm to me. Your world, it amazes me. You amaze me.  You know a lot about traditional and modern knowledge (or should I consider it WISDOM?) that I have always been so ignorant of. Have I told you that you are making me frustrated?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never thought a man as chivalrous as you are ever existed. Are you for real? Or are you just like the others who have taken the path of a shammer?  Do girls like me have to constantly pray the rosary just so we will be able to meet someone who is comparable to you? Where is your haven? Where do good men like you hide? Come on now, tell me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate you Mr. Too-GOOD-To-Be-TRUE. I positively do. You make ill-fated girls like me cry. You make us question ourselves, WHY? I hate you. I hate you. I hate you… I hate you because you are Mr. Too-GOOD-To-Be-TRUE… and maybe for the sole fact that I can never have you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good Bye Mr. Too-Good-To-Be-TRUE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frustratingly yours,&lt;br /&gt;Ms. GOOD girl gone BAD&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-6601935571378757700?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/6601935571378757700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=6601935571378757700' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6601935571378757700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6601935571378757700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2007/11/mr-too-good-to-be-true.html' title='Mr. TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-2776863541362467988</id><published>2007-10-23T11:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T20:20:13.644-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How will you know if it's time?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Rx1oOnLRI5I/AAAAAAAAABs/B40jTGqxujc/s1600-h/546.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124366551261193106" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Rx1oOnLRI5I/AAAAAAAAABs/B40jTGqxujc/s320/546.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Frustrated, envious, unsure. Do you know where all the good men are hiding? I received a big bouquet of roses today. People were looking at me as I hurriedly hopped into the shuttle. Maybe some were envious because of it while maybe some are laughing at how I hardheartedly handled the bouquet. I am just like any other girl. I must admit it is very flattering to receive flowers from anyone and I can’t help but wonder why I feel like there is something wrong. It’s probably because for the past 2 years I have been trying to change my path. But just when I thought I am on the right track, just when I was hoping that I have finally found a good site in the middle of the desert, I then realize that another traveler has already spotted that lot and is now about to assemble a tent on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was raining hard and I was walking with a friend. He (take note: HE) is one weird guy. I find him very religious (and smart) and I am in denial that I enjoy his company and that I like him (sh*t). I remember my Theology professor would often tell us stories about her husband and how he’s not her type. Well this guy is so not my type. He’s not the typical Chinese looking guy that makes me swoon. He doesn’t dress well. He is the exact opposite of what I have in mind. Why he caught my attention? He’s such a gentleman. Soft-spoken. Unusual. All my admirations have to end here. He has a girlfriend for 5 years and he’s getting married next year. And now I am frustrated, envious, and unsure – again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;How will you know when to get married?&lt;br /&gt;How will you know when he is the one?&lt;br /&gt;How will you know if you are the one?&lt;br /&gt;How will you know when it is veneration?&lt;br /&gt;How will you know when it is authentic?&lt;br /&gt;How will you know when to get out of your shell?&lt;br /&gt;How will you know when to believe?&lt;br /&gt;How will you know when it will arrive?&lt;br /&gt;How will you know when it will end?&lt;br /&gt;How will you know when it is fate?&lt;br /&gt;How will you know when if it is pure luck?&lt;br /&gt;How will you know when it is time? &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/13607901-2776863541362467988?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/2776863541362467988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=2776863541362467988' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/2776863541362467988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/2776863541362467988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2007/10/how-will-you-know-if-its-time.html' title='How will you know if it&apos;s time?'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/Rx1oOnLRI5I/AAAAAAAAABs/B40jTGqxujc/s72-c/546.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-6875615948722499208</id><published>2007-10-20T23:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-20T20:07:15.365-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Between Nothingness and Eternity</title><content type='html'>Rich in pretensions&lt;br /&gt;My earthly life.&lt;br /&gt;Obscurity&lt;br /&gt;My real name.&lt;br /&gt;Wholly unto myself&lt;br /&gt;I exist.&lt;br /&gt;I wrap no soul&lt;br /&gt;In my embrace.&lt;br /&gt;No mentor worthy&lt;br /&gt;Of my calibre&lt;br /&gt;Have I.&lt;br /&gt;I am all alone&lt;br /&gt;Between failure&lt;br /&gt;And frustration.&lt;br /&gt;I am the red thread&lt;br /&gt;BetweenNothingnessAnd Eternity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;by: Sri Chinmoy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-6875615948722499208?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/6875615948722499208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=6875615948722499208' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6875615948722499208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/6875615948722499208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2007/10/between-nothingness-and-eternity.html' title='Between Nothingness and Eternity'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-4308287479363923268</id><published>2007-10-14T12:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-14T21:46:55.746-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shawarma Afternoon</title><content type='html'>As I took a big hungry bite on my shawarma, I found myself sitting at the exact spot where I used to contemplate back in college. The place is nothing special. It is just a long, plain, and cold pavement along Park Square 2. I used to sit there during busy days in school when all of my friends would go straight to their homes to accomplish the heavy home works that were given to us. It’s still the same old stony pavement. Except that when I sat there today, there are only a few people lining up for their shuttle and the person that I am today is different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took another big bite of my shawarma. It has been so long since I sat there and eat my favorite sandwich. I would have eaten at the Batcave but eating there without my friends will be blunt. I miss our pancit canton days. It’s just plain pancit canton (sometimes with egg) but the stories, laughter, troubles or even rage that we share made every fork – full of this plain noodles unmatched the exotic cuisines of Class A restaurants.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been half a year already since I graduated. I’m now about to leave my first job and is now looking for my second stint but my adventures with my friends seemed like it just happened yesterday. It was truly my most treasured part of my life. I would be happy if I can rewind all the days that passed and go through hellish times of my life and share again the euphoric ones with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m almost done with my food and I’m off to go home again.  I’ll sleep, work, and look for a job but the next time I’ll sit in this spot again, I hope to be taking big bites of shawarma with my friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-4308287479363923268?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/4308287479363923268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=4308287479363923268' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4308287479363923268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/4308287479363923268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2007/10/shawarma-afternoon.html' title='Shawarma Afternoon'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13607901.post-3600638339556675153</id><published>2007-09-30T09:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-30T06:41:22.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I love you Tomorrow..</title><content type='html'>I'll resign tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13607901-3600638339556675153?l=getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/feeds/3600638339556675153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13607901&amp;postID=3600638339556675153' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3600638339556675153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13607901/posts/default/3600638339556675153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getagripofmyreality.blogspot.com/2007/09/ill-resign-tomorrow.html' title='I love you Tomorrow..'/><author><name>Thinker</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='10' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_YNbTw4Fg7xY/SArZ43aBD9I/AAAAAAAAACI/6hbUJWQO8RY/S220/white.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
