<?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-28640448</id><updated>2011-04-22T10:15:24.515+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life of the Dismissed and Dismissive</title><subtitle type='html'>It's not to say that I'm completely dismissed and I am completely dismissive, or either of the two. But I do tend to be one or the other sometimes. Although, I am very proud of who and what I am, it would be humbling to be reminded that people degrade me too and that I degrade some people too. 

It would probably be better if we realize that we could both be mean and nice at the same time. I'm no angel but I'm no spawn of evil either. I'm human. I make mistakes but I correct them.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>31</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-2500862401653019403</id><published>2007-08-10T11:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-10T11:48:07.861+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Touchstone of Acceptance</title><content type='html'>A statement written in secret by an anonymous girl (I would assume). Originally printed in a Starbucks napkin. Too beautiful to be thrown away. It's a sad story of friendship and acceptance. I'm putting it here as it was written in the napkin: in tag-lish. (I just made up the title because there was no title in the original).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"Ang hirap intindihin ng taong ayaw mag-reach out sayo. Sobra sobra ba yung hinihingi ko? Gusto ko lang maintindihan sya. Sana tulungan nya naman ako. Wala naman ako sigurong hinihingi na di nya kaya ibigay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know parang hindi totoo, pero wala naman akong agenda eh. Special ang attention na binibigay ko sa kanya kasi gusto ko yung ugali nya. Pero minsan parang hindi ko gusto. Ang hirap nya kasi ma-gets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Iniisip ko ngayon kung ganito rin kaya kahirap maki-relate kay J noon? Alam ko magkaiba sila, pero bakit si J na-gets ko? Bakit sya ngayon hindi ko ma-gets?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Baka naman time lang ang kailangan. Time na hindi ko naman mahingi at hindi nya rin naman maibigay. Kung time ang kailangan, time ang hindi namin makukuha. Ang lungkot naman yata nun. Kasi ang dating parang walang chance na maging tight itong friendship na ito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Baka nafi-feel nya na kakaiba yung treatment ko sa kanya, at pakiramdam nya may gusto ako sa kanya. At para hindi ako mag-fall sa kanya ay iniiwasan nya ako this way.  If so, then I guess hindi nga talaga worthwhile itong friendship na ito. At hindi ko nga talaga siguro sya friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sabi ni J dati, kung talagang friend ang turing sa akin ng isang tao, hindi sya mag-aasume ng anything negative about my actions. Dapat naiintindihan nya na lang yun. Pero feeling ko ngayon, sya, nami-misinterpret nya lahat na parang may gusto ako mangyari.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wala akong gustong mangyari. Gusto ko lang tanggapin nya yung friendship na binibigay ko sa kanya. Yun lang. Na sana, wag nya ako i-push away, kasi alam ko at kampante ako na kahit ganito ako, na parang hindi nya ako maipagmalakit na kaibigan nya, ibang klase akong kaibigan. At ako lang ang kaibigan nyang ganito. That is, kung makita nya lang sana yun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pero hindi nya makita. Ayaw nya nga yata tingnan eh. The fact that hindi nya kayang i-open up yung sarili nya sa idea na I'm going the distance trying to make him feel special says a lot about how he sees me in his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Palagay ko natatakot sya na mag-fall talaga ako sa kanya. I wish there's a way to tell him na hindi ako ganun, para hindi sya mag-pull away. But then again, maybe he's simply not worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I want him to be worthy, pero wala na sa kamay ko yun kung worthy sya or not. At kung hindi, sayang naman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Parang ang yabang pakinggan, pero alam ko ang self-worth ko. By this time, hindi na option ang low self-esteem. At hindi bababa ang tingin ko sa sarili ko dahil lang hindi ako ma-appreciate ng ibang tao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't feel bad na hindi nya ako kayang tanggapin. I feel bad for him kasi ayaw nyang ma-effort na tanggapin ako. I could have been the best friend he could ever have. Siguro lang mababa na talaga ang standards ng best ngayon."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ang lupit noh? &lt;/span&gt;;p&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-2500862401653019403?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/2500862401653019403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=2500862401653019403' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/2500862401653019403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/2500862401653019403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2007/08/touchstone-of-acceptance.html' title='Touchstone of Acceptance'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-8811122123476020916</id><published>2007-06-23T13:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-23T13:18:23.230+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Big Splash!</title><content type='html'>I have quite a lot of things going on with me since I last wrote an entry for this blog, but I can't seem to get that urge/inspiration/drive to share it. That ends today.  Remember that last entry? Scroll down and scan it if you don't.  I said, "I just might make a big splash..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what... apparently, I DID!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The final grade for that particular subject was released just this wednesday. It was very late, but that wasn't really surprising because this professor had a reputation of submitting grades at a very very VERY late time. In fact, we were all expecting to get our grades at the beginning of the next semester.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When a friend told me (through text message) that grades had already been released, I didn't know how to react. I was excited and worried at the same time. I had worked hard and prayed even harder just to pass, but I was scared that all that might not be enough, because I know that sometimes, we don't always get what we ask for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the lady in the Records Section told me my grade, I couldn't believe my ears. I had to ask her to repeat it. Even after that, I still couldn't believe it.  I got an 84. This may not be that high to many people, but after what happened to me, all I was hoping for was to get a 75.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I told my friends about this, one of them said that I was the exception to the rule. I asked her which rule... She explained: "Remember how the only people who ever flunked his (the professor's ) class are those who leave that room last? (Referring to the oral exam) You left the room last, but you ended up getting one of the higher grades."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought it over, and she was right. I kept telling them how surprised I was and they kept saying that I must have done a very good job with my finals. Now, I think, may be I really have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I set a goal and it worked... I did it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I have a new set of goals... this could be a long shot... but I don't care. I'm reaching those goals and I'm sticking to my plans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a brand new day! Brand new chance to do something better! It's going to be a tough road, but I don't think I have ever been this excited to work hard! I think this is going to be a good school year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really think that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-8811122123476020916?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/8811122123476020916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=8811122123476020916' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/8811122123476020916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/8811122123476020916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2007/06/big-splash.html' title='Big Splash!'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-2612274590647700142</id><published>2007-03-13T00:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-13T01:02:02.588+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Drawing Lots</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;After class had ended tonight, I have never felt so down in my law school life.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Because it was almost 10pm, the halls are very bare.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I liked the silence though. I always did. But it was a little different tonight. The silence made me feel really lonesome. And often, when it comes to matters of school, I never really felt that depressed.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Today was our oral exams in a subject called Evidence.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Each student was asked to go up front and draw a number from a small Nokia cell phone box.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The number is given to the professor; and he reads from his list a question that we should be able to answer. Whether or not the student is able to answer, s/he is told to draw another number from said box. If the student answers the first question satisfactorily, s/he needs only to answer the second question the same way to be able to end her/his turn; otherwise, the student is given another chance to draw another number so that s/he may redeem herself.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;For students who were not able to answer two questions, they were asked to go back to their seats and wait. I was one of the students who were not able to answer both questions and was asked to go back to my seat and wait.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;There were fourteen of us left after the professor had told the others to leave the room.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He began another round of that same process; and we were narrowed down to eight. And then, two. I could tell that our professor was tired and disappointed. And at that point, I don’t blame him. I was disappointed too. He insisted on continuing with that same process because the other student and myself were not getting any answers right at all. It was almost embarrassing. It was a good thing that the rest of the class were told to leave. Finally, I got a right answer. It was pathetic because the question was the easiest one in the book. I almost wanted to kill myself from embarrassment because I ended up in that situation. But, really, who was to blame? Only me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I was the first to admit (and perhaps the only one) that I didn’t study. The professor asked why. I didn’t answer the question. Instead, I said that, “I didn’t study the way I should have.” Although it was not the correct response, it was the truth. I did study, but not in a way that I was expected of me to. I took that oral exam very lightly. Now that I think about it, I didn’t really know what I was thinking when I put off studying for it. I remember that one of my classmates made a comment about how I was very calm, whereas they were all panicking. This was about three or four days ago prior to this day. I told her I was worried too. What I didn’t tell her was that I didn’t give a damn.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I don’t know why, but I was never as worried about it as they were.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Perhaps it was because I’m in this crisis where I am quite confused and uncertain about being in law school. For the past few weeks this thought of getting out of law school has been nagging me. I didn’t go to class.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I didn’t study my lessons.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I just stopped caring about whatever the consequences of my irresponsible actions will be.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And then I figured that since I don’t know what to do, really, with my life, it would be stupid if I quit law school now. So, I have decided to stay.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Stay as long as I can.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Stay until all the life has been sucked out of me by this institution.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It’s not very inspiring, I know; but this is the right thing to do. Being a lawyer may not be my real dream, but I’m on a road that is going somewhere. I think I’ll just wing this out until I find the right road that I really want to travel.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;The thing is, after that episode in my life, after I have resolved what to do, I find myself facing the consequences of my actions.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am overwhelmed by the things that I have taken for granted.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Now, I feel like I’m in a race for my life.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have to get back on track, I keep repeating in my head.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And the perfect wake up call is the event that had transpired today.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;The truth is, I’m not really one who is vying to be on top of the list.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But I have never been this pathetic, I think, in school.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I feel depressed at the thought that many of the students who were in the first batch to leave were no better than I am.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Some of them used to be worse than me in other subjects, I remember.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And yet, they were let out early and I was warned that in case of doubt, I will fail.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was unbelievable, but not really.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;As I commuted home, I had some time to think things over.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I wanted to wallow in my sorrow as a result of a very poor performance in class tonight, but I quickly realized that wallowing will not help me improve.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I began to imagine myself getting a very good grade in my finals.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So good that I completely redeemed myself: in my own satisfaction and in the eyes of my classmates and professor.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not that I want to gloat or anything like that.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I want to be an inspiration to the students who are next in line for that class.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;The thing is, dreaming big is not enough.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It takes a lot of hard work for me to achieve that goal.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don’t know why, but instead of being inspired, suddenly I feel hopeless.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I feel like no amount of studying is enough for me to pass this subject.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am so pathetic.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;How fast it was for the good things to pass.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not a moment too soon as I was having that fantasy and aspiration of making it in this class and being a model for future students, that a goblin of negative thoughts came rushing in and swallowing whatever hope I had left at the time.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I wanted to write this and be able to end with a moral to the story, but now, I don’t know what moral lessons I could give.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Maybe because there are none.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Maybe because the success story has yet to pass.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Maybe because there will be no success story after all.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 255, 204);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;After everything, I only know one thing for sure: I won’t know if I could achieve something unless I try and work hard to get it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Who knows, I might actually make a big splash on the night of the final exam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-2612274590647700142?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/2612274590647700142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=2612274590647700142' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/2612274590647700142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/2612274590647700142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2007/03/drawing-lots.html' title='Drawing Lots'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-4344134260336413951</id><published>2007-01-18T12:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-18T12:51:25.946+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Time To Cut My Losses</title><content type='html'>Some people when they gamble, they get so hooked with the game that they often forget when to stop. Usually, this is because they have experienced substantial winnings in the course of it. However, some people are hooked not because they're winning; but rather, because they want to win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the past few weeks, I gambled and tried to make something out of nothing. The whole experience was making my heart pump and my blood rush. It was exhilerating, actually. The waiting wasn't even tiring... I was absolutely looking forward to whatever is coming. The whole time, I just wanted it to come. I wanted anything to come: good results, bad results... anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But in gambling, a person has to know when it is time to cut his losses. And for me, it is time. I have to stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel disappointed because nothing happened; I was neither accepted nor rejected. I came out of the experience completely safe; and I think that's horrible. I'd really rather be scarred when I walk of it than have nothing at all. But apparently, the universe, or whatever or whomever's hands are making things turn, decided that I can't be broken at this time. (Because I think I was destined to be broken for this particular endeavor).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The point is, I get the message. I guess I already knew it before, I was just too stubborn to take it in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I did invite him in Friendster, right? He didn't accept. I don't think he even looked at my profile. The reason, of course, is unknown to me. But a couple of days of nothing made me realize that this is the end of the line. I should cut my losses and get out of the building (you know, figuratively speaking). So I cancelled the invite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just feel kind of sad because it was such an elaborate plan just to get to talk to him. I've never done anything so bold and forward in my life... and with this, I psyched myself up... I was ready... for anything. Still, the opportunity never came. But, you know, I'm sure there's a lot more to come. It was fun--this whole thing. But it's time to move on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-4344134260336413951?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/4344134260336413951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=4344134260336413951' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/4344134260336413951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/4344134260336413951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2007/01/time-to-cut-my-losses.html' title='Time To Cut My Losses'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-4309738603718433647</id><published>2007-01-12T22:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-12T23:55:11.906+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Off The Cliff</title><content type='html'>After much pondering, questioning, doubting, and asking for advice, I finally did it. I took the plunge off the cliff. I simply jumped off without any regard whatsoever as to what the consequences would be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took my time to think about what to do, how to do it and how to react when the time comes--and I think it was pretty obvious from my recent entries here.  I tried to look at all possibilities; as in ALL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just yesterday, I think, I began to think that he might be gay. Okay. Calm your senses. Let me explain why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During our conversation, he shook my hand 3 times total. The thing is... all of them were weak. I mean, I expected him to give me a firm handshake, as I had experienced with guys before. In fact, I think I squeezed his hand quite hard, expecting that he would be doing the same thing to me. I was really quite surprised when he gave me that weak handshake. I really didn't see it coming. The second time he offered his hand, I figured that we could try again. So I gave him the same firm shake I earlier did; and he gave me that weak shake that he earlier did. The third time, I just gave up and held his hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, now, I know it's a very shallow basis to think of someone as gay. But you know, there's always that possibility right? Even if he did give me a firm handshake, he could still be gay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A good friend told me that even if things don't go the way I planned them to, in that we don't get to be together, I should keep in mind that because of what he said and how he said it... that I am attractive and very likeable. It's an ego-booster if everything else don't work out. And I figured that she's right... and I love the idea of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if it happens that he actually is gay... then the whole "I like you" line changes completely. I mean, it'll mean differently now. Because the whole time, I was thinking that it's something romantic, you know? And then if he's gay, then the romantic thing will inevitably crumble down.&lt;br /&gt;Along with my ego...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, there's still that lingering thought that it was indeed a sweet gesture that he did, but it doesn't mean anything! It was just because he was being polite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, after making myself go crazy and pre-occupied with this whole thing of wanting to find out if there could be something between us, I just went ahead and took my chance. After all, this could be my last shot to do this. I made a Friendster account... and I invited him--just tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know there's a bigger probability that things might get ugly and I'll get really hurt... but what's life if there aren't any hearts broken and tears flowing? What's life if there's no disappointment and devastation? What's life if there's no rejection and embarrassment? Why... that's not life at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-4309738603718433647?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/4309738603718433647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=4309738603718433647' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/4309738603718433647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/4309738603718433647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2007/01/off-cliff.html' title='Off The Cliff'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-3511480883867881249</id><published>2007-01-11T10:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-11T10:37:59.735+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Moment of Truth</title><content type='html'>Well, I'm right. He didn't accept my friend's invitation to be added as her friend in Friendster. It's kinda disappointing; which I really don't have any right to feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I  know I shouldn't be expecting at all... and believe me, I'm trying so hard not to... but the truth is, I want things to be perfect--in that, he's thinking about me the way I'm thinking about him. And it really really sucks because from experience, the guys I like and the guys that I hope like me the same way, don't. And I really like this guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my mind, it's totally insane. I mean, I don't know anything about him--and yet, I get this "thing" for him. It's ridiculous!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm not completely clueless with regard to this whole thing. I know what to do... and I know how to handle it in case things don't go the way I really want it to. But come on, like I said in the description of this blog... "I'm human"; and I think it's normal for me to want good things to happen to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's something even more crazy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another friend of mine (not the one who tried to add the guy in her list of friends in friendster) suggested that I make my own friendster account and then I'll be the one to invite him. Okay... the thing is... I've never made a friendster account--ever! Even my very best friends weren't able to make me. At this point, the reason for that is not really that essential. What's important is my decision to make one right now just so I could try to find closure for this whole episode. I just need to know if he remembers me, right? If he saw my face, would he know me? If I invite him to be my friend, would he accept? Because if he does accept, then it could mean that he does remember me. If he does not accept, then he doesn't remember me (or even if he does remember me, he doesn't care). The illusion ends as easy as that... then maybe I could move on with my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a window of opportunity to get the answers I've been trying so hard to get. The question is, will I take advantage of it? Because when I come to think of it, maybe this is the only chance I'll ever have to know for sure. On the other hand... am I going too far with this? Should I throw in the towel? I mean, after all, I already did make an effort before... and that did not result to anything. Maybe that's the answer right there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-3511480883867881249?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/3511480883867881249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=3511480883867881249' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/3511480883867881249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/3511480883867881249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2007/01/moment-of-truth.html' title='Moment of Truth'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-8227039956215573356</id><published>2007-01-09T18:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-09T18:52:28.310+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Untitled Part 2</title><content type='html'>I forgot to include in my last entry that the guy has all my contact information. And the thing is, I have always thought that if he did like me enough, he'd make the move. I mean, after all, there's not much stopping him. He has everything he needs. But, he never did call me... about anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now, i guess maybe, what I had was nothing more than hollow assumptions, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, it also is possible that he has that professional integrity not to use his position to contact some girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My God! I'm just getting so twisted in this whole thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A very good friend of mine tried to contact him by adding him to her friendster. I don't think he'll respond though. He seems to be a very private person. Enough that he doesn't even want outsiders messaging him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is getting really difficult. I'm beginning to think that this much effort is not even worth it. I know I have the backing of my best friends, and I'm so glad. But I'm just scared that I'm wasting their time with this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm getting obsessed over nothing. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Parang di ko na kaya rin eh... Ewan ko ba, pinanghihinaan ako ng loob.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-8227039956215573356?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/8227039956215573356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=8227039956215573356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/8227039956215573356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/8227039956215573356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2007/01/untitled-part-2.html' title='Untitled Part 2'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-116826024347025125</id><published>2007-01-08T19:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-08T21:47:21.176+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Untitled</title><content type='html'>Dammit... I can't even think of a clever title for this particular entry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I felt like writing something about someone. Someone that I know practically nothing about. In fact, I just recently found out his last name. Damn, I've been obsessing about him for a month and all I knew was his nickname. I still don't know his real first name. Sigh. Oh yeah, just today, I found out his age. I tell you, this is one of the saddest things I could think of. What's even more lame is that I have his face in another window (which by the way is his Friendster pic--and I'm not even a patron of that community!). Yeah, his picture is just there. I've gone crazy, I bet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, the first time I saw him (which is the only real time that I talked to him--and we were talking because it was his job to talk to me, you get the idea?), I never really cared for him. I didn't even find him attractive. Although, I have to admit, his voice made me swoon! Holy crap! I've never heard such deep and beautiful tone before. I loved it! Had I had the chance to record it, I really honestly would've... and maybe listen to it every night. Okay, that's kind of twisted. Maybe not EVERY night. Sometimes I'll listen to it in the morning. (Oh dear God, I've really gone crazy.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But seriously though, I know this is just a crush. I know that, because I don't know him at all. He might get sudden urges of murderous rampage for all I know. Or he might not even be interested in women... what more in me. My brain is telling me that this'll all pass... like every seemingly unsurpassable "heart-related" events in my life. It's telling me that I'll let this go the same way I let go of 18, Laser, and every other crush I've ever had before (even my past big crush--yep, that animated guy who used to make really loud sound effects in the "LRT" who is now supposedly one of the US Marines). I used to waste my time thinking about those guys and how much I wanted to be with them; but eventually, I wised up and stopped dreaming. So I know this "feeling" will end the same way the others ended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing is... what if... well, what if he's not just suppose to pass me by? What if this could really turn into something? I know other people who know me and who has seen me lately will think that I don't have the right to think of such--what with my whale-like appearance and all that.  But that's just it. That's why I can't stop thinking of this guy--because I know that he's looking past that particular imperfection I have, something that not many guys are capable of (the same way not many girls are capable of).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During my only time of conversation with this guy, he said he liked me. Really, he just blurted it out. And at the time, I felt like it wasn't even about anything else. I mean, I felt like he said he liked me for me. Not me for this or that. Ok, I know that didn't make sense. But you have to understand that I can't expound any more than that; otherwise, everyone would know who he is--well, maybe not EVERYONE. But, just as well, I'm trying to protect something here--to be exact, me and him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was saying, he said he liked me; that I'm some sort of a proof or testament as to why he likes "chubby" girls. Ok, now, I know he was being kind, because, really, I'm beyond chubby! But I just think that it was such a nice thing to say. If anything, it was really sweet. Other people might find that weird or perverse, but that's only because other people are idiotic and shallow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It never really sunk in at the time. But when I got to the elevator right after that conversation, it felt like a ray of light descended upon me and a chorale of angels began to sing a song of awakening. By then, however, it was too late. I never had the chance to talk to him again. In fact, I could count in one hand the number of times I saw him after that. God knows that I tried so hard for us to meet again... To tell you the truth, I even gathered whatever strength I had and planned to ask him out (well, not just the two of us; with me and my girl friends). You know, I was already there. I was ready. At the time, it felt like nothing could stop me. But lo and behold, the hands of fate moved and stopped whatever I had planned to happen. The day that I was supposed to finally get the chance to talk to him again, the lady guard stationed in that office said that he went home early. Ergo, I was too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends encouraged me and told me that we'll try again tomorrow. Tomorrow came... I was excited and ready. Again, I was pulled to a screeching stop. The guard on duty (male this time) told me that he has yet to come in. I even asked if he was on leave because the day before, the lady guard told me that he went home early. Here's the best part... the guard on duty said that he didn't leave early; and that infact, he left just hours ago... at 4am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you imagine how devastated I was? I think my jaw dropped slightly due to disbelief. The ray of light was sucked back into the heavens and was immediately replaced with dark clouds; and the chorale of angels backed up and was overpowered by a morose tune of the violin. If destiny and fate were playing a trick on me, they sure got me. And they got me good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are the odds of that? Sure, it was the lady guard's fault for giving me false information. Yeah, I could blame her because I wasn't able to get that chance. But the truth is, it's no one's fault. I kind of believe that it was simply how it was supposed to be. I went back the next morning thinking that the first try didn't work out well because I was being tested for my perseverance and courage. But after that second one... I could only assume that a higher power is telling me to simply stop. Stop trying to see him. Stop trying to talk to him. Maybe it's telling me to stop trying to think of him... that he became part of my life to do just one thing--that is, in connection with our one and only conversation--nothing more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, maybe I'm not being told to stop; rather, I'm being told to wait. Wait for the right time, for the right moment. Hence, another test of patience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I was given another angle to look at. What if it still is a continiung test of my perseverance. What if the third time's a charmer? What if the answer and my peace of mind could be obtained if I do one last go? Because, I'm not even expecting that we end up being together. Sure, I hope for it; but it's not something that I'm aiming for. Whatever it is that should happen will happen. And if I will be dismissed, at least I'll find closure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, if you exploit your Yahoo! account as much as I do and take advantage of every free service they offer, then you'd know that Yahoo! provides its users with free Horoscopes. According to my "Weekly Romance," Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday are all about me; that I should wake up on the right side of the bed and work my magic. It said that I'm good with words and that I should use that to set matters of the heart afire. Alright, normally, I don't care for Astrology; but because of my deep confusion, I've resorted to actually considering its advice. Of course, I'm still quite wary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what... let's just wait and see...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-116826024347025125?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/116826024347025125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=116826024347025125' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/116826024347025125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/116826024347025125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2007/01/untitled.html' title='Untitled'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-116673091528329130</id><published>2006-12-22T03:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-22T03:55:15.300+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Ask?</title><content type='html'>I think more often than not, we encounter questions that are difficult to answer; not because they're too academic or there is a requirement of expertise on the subject matter, but because we simply don't know how to answer them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's kind of  vague...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All right, let me put  it this way...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When a student fails a subject and is confronted by his parents about it, the usual question asked is, "Why did you fail?" or "How could you fail?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The student is most likely to become dumbfounded by the question... he will not know exactly how to answer it. He can't simply say, "Because I didn't study," eventhough that's what the parents are already thinking anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you get where I'm coming off here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes certain questions need not be asked. Because in particular circumstances, asking a certain question might be a stupid thing to do... maybe because they are not only hurtful, but they also become annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that, let me just say that I am fat. Yeah... huge as a whale. A lot of people constantly comment on that... maybe because that's the very first thing they notice about me. I don't blame them though, it's kinda hard to miss. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I don't get... and what annoys me to the bones... is when people ask, "Why are you fat?" or "How did you get this fat?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm... let me think... oh yeah... I FRIGGIN' EAT A LOT, BITCH! I mean, you're intelligent enough to even have an audience with me, and still, you can't figure that out on your own? Seriously, how dumb is that question?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry, but this is upsetting for me. I'm not annoyed at friends making jokes about me being fat, because I really don't mind it. I make fun of me all the time. What gets on my nerves is these idiotic queries that I don't even know how to answer straight. What do they want me to say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, well, first, I ate a bag of potato chips dipped in cheese and re-fried in high cholesterol cooking oil..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should I chronicle every single bite of food I take to enable me to give a straight forward answer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More importantly, why ask these kinds of questions? There's is no straight answer to "Why are you fat?"; why push it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what's sad though? My relatives and some of my friends do this to me a lot. Maybe  I should point them to the direction where people are trained to know about the feelings of others... they might just pick up empathy and realize how much they have hurt me... and hurt me deeply. Because they should be on my side, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you think you are one of them who ask these kinds of questions, I hope you know how insensitive and stupid you were. And if these things happen again... I'm sorry, but I can be impolite too if pushed to my limits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And for our final word tonight...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tactlessness is controllable... it is not an involuntary reflex or personality.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-116673091528329130?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/116673091528329130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=116673091528329130' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/116673091528329130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/116673091528329130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/12/why-ask.html' title='Why Ask?'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-116434105372466763</id><published>2006-11-24T12:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-24T12:04:14.176+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Please Support Light A Million Candles</title><content type='html'>The innocent victims of Internet child abuse cannot speak for themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With your help, we can eradicate this evil trade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We do not need your money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We need you to light a candle of support &lt;&lt;a href="http://www.lightamillioncandles.com/"&gt;http://www.lightamillioncandles.com&lt;/a&gt;&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're aiming to light at least One Million Candles by December 31, 2006.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This petition will be used to encourage governments, politicians, financial institutions, payment organisations, Internet service providers, technology companies and law enforcement agencies to eradicate the commercial viability of online child abuse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They have the power to work together. You have the power to get them to take action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please light your candle at lightamillioncandles.com &lt;&lt;a href="http://www.lightamillioncandles.com/"&gt;http://www.lightamillioncandles.com&lt;/a&gt;&gt; or send an email of support to &lt;a href="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/dachemp/post?postID=aRuoKUxLKCAVKH2wUfWNvpAuww_W0HEGyahzyj7IqB3QknDaNF7FyfrdUaamCxsHklCJRoqrclqHXIGkVLj2ZjYWYCuU"&gt;light@lightamillioncandles.com&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Together, we can destroy the commercial viability of Internet child abuse sites that are destroying the lives of innocent children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kindly forward this message to your friends, relatives and work colleagues so that they can light a candle too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-116434105372466763?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/116434105372466763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=116434105372466763' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/116434105372466763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/116434105372466763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/11/please-support-light-million-candles.html' title='Please Support Light A Million Candles'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-115951359911487460</id><published>2006-09-29T15:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-29T15:11:59.433+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Anonymity</title><content type='html'>is such a great thing, don't you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can actually get to know what makes a person tick without having him/her know who the hell you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find it most funny, however, when people ask you who you are when you piss them off. I mean, they are so upset and red with fury because of the things you say or do that they can't help but ask, "if you're brave, tell me who you really are." *insert hysterical laughter*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why? In the first place, why even ask? Secondly, you actually allowed a complete stranger get to you? That's just sad. People get so upset easily. They can't accept the truth, and they will hate you when you lie to them. Human beings are indeed one of the complexities of nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you something, when you open yourself to criticism... such as when you speak your mind... keep it cool. Don't ask who read your shit; just be thankful that somebody actually wasted time on your crap. Not many people are that lucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hell, I've been waiting for people to comment and shit on the stuff I write here and there barely ever was a comment in these blogs. If people tell me to fuck off, I'd take it. At least, I'm content with the fact that I actually got that bloke's interest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-115951359911487460?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/115951359911487460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=115951359911487460' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115951359911487460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115951359911487460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/09/anonymity.html' title='Anonymity'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-115934626109832662</id><published>2006-09-27T16:33:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-27T16:57:27.420+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sign The Petition (Guimaras Oil Spill)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7108/3024/1600/guinaras_map.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7108/3024/320/guinaras_map.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On August 11, 2006, a vessel contracted by Petron sank in the Guimaras area. The vessel was carrying 528,000+ gallons in 10 tanks equivalent to 2 million liters. It continues to spread from the Panay Gulf towards Guimaras Strait; in fact, it has now reached several cities in Negros Occidental.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a photo showing the extent of the oil spill's damage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I bid you to sign a couple of petitions: one addressed to Petron, another to the President and the Congress and a third which is actually a way to contact the president through the government's website.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please take time to do this. It is a simple act that you, whoever you are and whatever you do, could contribute to the saving of our natural resources. This is our sea, our land, our life. We are all responsible for every habitat that is destroyed and for every species that goes extinct.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Visit &lt;a href="http://www.saveguimaras.com/blog/?page_id=78"&gt;http://www.saveguimaras.com/blog/?page_id=78&lt;/a&gt; today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do we really want our waters and shorelines to stay like this...?&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.bulatlat.com/images/6-28/guimaras-oil-spill.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.bulatlat.com/images/6-28/guimaras-oil-spill.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cbsnews.com/images/2006/08/22/imageMLA10108221152.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.cbsnews.com/images/2006/08/22/imageMLA10108221152.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-115934626109832662?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/115934626109832662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=115934626109832662' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115934626109832662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115934626109832662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/09/sign-petition-guimaras-oil-spill.html' title='Sign The Petition (Guimaras Oil Spill)'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-115872381189001367</id><published>2006-09-20T11:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T13:05:04.143+08:00</updated><title type='text'>For Yang</title><content type='html'>&lt;embed src="http://filelodge.bolt.com/player/mp3.swf" flashvars="&amp;config=http://filelodge.bolt.com/player/config-200x100-nostart.xml&amp;amp;file=http://www.filelodge.com/files/room43/1235988/Amazing%20Grace%20-%20State%20of%20Grace.mp3" allowscriptaccess="always" name="player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" height="100" width="200"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amazing grace! How sweet the sound&lt;br /&gt;That saved a wretch like me!&lt;br /&gt;I once was lost, but now am found;&lt;br /&gt;Was blind, but now I see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,&lt;br /&gt;And grace my fears relieved;&lt;br /&gt;How precious did that grace appear&lt;br /&gt;The hour I first believed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through many dangers, toils and snares,&lt;br /&gt;I have already come;&lt;br /&gt;'Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far,&lt;br /&gt;And grace will lead me home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lord has promised good to me,&lt;br /&gt;His word my hope secures;&lt;br /&gt;He will my shield and portion be,&lt;br /&gt;As long as life endures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,&lt;br /&gt;And mortal life shall cease,&lt;br /&gt;I shall possess, within the veil,&lt;br /&gt;A life of joy and peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world shall soon to ruin go,&lt;br /&gt;The sun refuse to shine;&lt;br /&gt;But God, who called me here below,&lt;br /&gt;Shall be forever mine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-115872381189001367?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/115872381189001367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=115872381189001367' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115872381189001367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115872381189001367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/09/for-yang.html' title='For Yang'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-115871993998075793</id><published>2006-09-20T10:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-22T09:23:59.566+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oklahoma Music Video</title><content type='html'>Yay! I found one in YouTube!!! Nakakaiyak talaga!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Wkp4ua_R0ZY"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Wkp4ua_R0ZY" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&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/28640448-115871993998075793?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/115871993998075793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=115871993998075793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115871993998075793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115871993998075793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/09/oklahoma-music-video.html' title='Oklahoma Music Video'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-115865456581124846</id><published>2006-09-19T16:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T16:35:02.196+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Billy Gilman - Oklahoma</title><content type='html'>This was sung by a young kid (who is a young man now). The story is really touching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://filelodge.bolt.com/player/mp3.swf" flashvars="&amp;config=http://filelodge.bolt.com/player/config-200x100-nostart.xml&amp;amp;file=http://www.filelodge.com/files/room43/1235988/Billy%20Gillman%20-%20Oklahoma.mp3" allowscriptaccess="always" name="player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" height="100" width="200"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suitcase packed with all his things&lt;br /&gt;Car pulls up, the doorbell rings&lt;br /&gt;He don't want to go&lt;br /&gt;He thought he'd found his home&lt;br /&gt;But with circumstances he can't change&lt;br /&gt;Waves goodbye as they pull away&lt;br /&gt;From the life he's known&lt;br /&gt;For the last seven months or so&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said we found the man who looks like you&lt;br /&gt;Who cried and said he never knew&lt;br /&gt;About the boy in pictures that we showed him&lt;br /&gt;A rambler in his younger days&lt;br /&gt;He knew he made a few mistakes&lt;br /&gt;But he swore he would have been there&lt;br /&gt;Had he known it&lt;br /&gt;Son we think we found your dad in Oklahoma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A million thoughts raced through his mind&lt;br /&gt;What's his name, what's he like and will he be&lt;br /&gt;Anything like the man in his dreams&lt;br /&gt;She could see the questions in his eyes&lt;br /&gt;Whispered "don't be scared my child&lt;br /&gt;I'll let you know, what we know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About the man we found, he looks like you&lt;br /&gt;And cried and said he never knew&lt;br /&gt;About the boy in pictures that we showed him&lt;br /&gt;A rambler in his younger days He knew he'd made a few mistakes&lt;br /&gt;But he swore he would've been there Had he known it&lt;br /&gt;You always said that this was something that you wanted&lt;br /&gt;Son it's time to meet your Dad in Oklahoma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One last turn he held his breath&lt;br /&gt;'Til they reached the fifth house on the left&lt;br /&gt;And all at once the tears came rolling in&lt;br /&gt;And as they pulled into the drive&lt;br /&gt;A man was waiting there outside&lt;br /&gt;Who wiped the worry from his eyes Smiled and took his hand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he said I'm the man who looks like you&lt;br /&gt;Who cried because I never knew&lt;br /&gt;About that boy in pictures that they showed me&lt;br /&gt;A rambler in my younger days I knew I made a few mistakes&lt;br /&gt;But I swear I would have been there had I known it&lt;br /&gt;Never again will you ever be alone&lt;br /&gt;Son welcome to your home in Oklahoma&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-115865456581124846?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/115865456581124846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=115865456581124846' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115865456581124846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115865456581124846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/09/billy-gilman-oklahoma.html' title='Billy Gilman - Oklahoma'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-115864205374635174</id><published>2006-09-19T12:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T13:22:06.850+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Waters of March by Sofia</title><content type='html'>&lt;embed src="http://filelodge.bolt.com/player/mp3.swf" flashvars="&amp;config=http://filelodge.bolt.com/player/config-200x100-nostart.xml&amp;amp;file=http://www.filelodge.com/files/room43/1235988/Sofia%20-%20Waters%20of%20March%20%28Aguas%20de%20Marco%29.mp3" allowscriptaccess="always" name="player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" height="100" width="200"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://filelodge.bolt.com/"&gt;Image Hosting&lt;/a&gt; | &lt;a href="http://filelodge.bolt.com/"&gt;Video Hosting&lt;/a&gt; | &lt;a href="http://www.gamedip.com"&gt;Myspace Games&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;A stick, a stone / It's the end of the road / É um resto de toco / It's a little alone&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;It's a sliver of glass / It is life, it's the sun / It is night, it is death / It's a trap, it's a gun&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;É peroba do campo / é o nó da &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;Madeira&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt; / Caingá, candeia / é o Matita Pereira&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;É madeira de vento / tombo da ribanceira&lt;/span&gt; / &lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;É o mistério profundo / é o queira ou não queira&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;It's the wind blowing free / It's the end of the slope / It's a beam, it's a void / It's a hunch, it's a hope&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;And the river bank talks&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;of the waters of March / It's the end of the strain / It’s the joy in your heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: times new roman;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Badam…&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;É o pé, é o chão / é a marcha estradeir / Passarinho na mão / pedra de atiradeira&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;A fish, a flash / A silvery glow / A fight, a bet / The range of a bow&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;É o fundo do poço,/ é o fim do caminho / No rosto o desgosto / é um pouco sozinho&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;A spear, a spike / A point, a nail / A drip, a drop / The end of the tale&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;A truckload of bricks / in the soft morning light / The shot of a gun / in the dead of the night&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;A mile, a must, / A thrust, a bump, / It's a girl, it's a rhyme, / It's a cold, it's the mumps&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;The plan of the house, / The body in bed, / And the car that got stuck, / It's the mud, it's the mud&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;Afloat, adrift / A flight, a wing / A hawk, a quail / Oh, the promise of spring&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;And the river bank talks&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;of the waters of March / It's the promise of life / It’s the joy in your heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;And the river bank talks&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;of the waters of March / It's the promise of life / It’s the joy in your heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Badam…&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;A stick, a stone / It's the end of the road / É um resto de toco / é um pouco sozinho&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;It's a sliver of glass / It is life, it's the sun / É a noite, é a morte / é um laço, é o anzol&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;The plan of the house / The body in bed / And the car that got stuck / It's the mud, it's the mud&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;É o projeto da casa / é o corpo na cama / É o carro enguiçado / é a lama, é a lama&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;São as águas de março / fechando o verão / É a promessa de vida / no teu coração&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;And the river bank talks&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;of the waters of March / It's the promise of life / It’s the joy in your heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;And the river bank talks&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;of the waters of March / It's the promise of life / It’s the joy in your heart&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/28640448-115864205374635174?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/115864205374635174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=115864205374635174' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115864205374635174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115864205374635174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/09/waters-of-march-by-sofia.html' title='Waters of March by Sofia'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-115795285904015673</id><published>2006-09-11T13:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T13:34:19.046+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Loathe and Disdain For Greer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Germaine Greer is a feminists--to the extreme. Her hate for men seems beyond the heavens. More importantly, she is one of the few (if none) who criticizes Steve Irwin. Today, I read an article she wrote about his death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry, but to my mind, this bitch is heartless and utterly cruel. I mean, the man is dead for crying out loud! If you can't say nice stuff about him, then shut your shit loaded mouth up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In her article, she wrote: "The animal world has finally taken its revenge on Irwin, but probably not before  a whole generation of kids in shorts seven sizes too small has learned to shout  in the ears of animals with hearing 10 times more acute than theirs, determined  to become millionaire animal-loving zoo-owners in their turn."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read the &lt;a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/australia/story/0,,1865124,00.html"&gt;entire article&lt;/a&gt; if you must.&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/28640448-115795285904015673?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/115795285904015673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=115795285904015673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115795285904015673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115795285904015673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/09/loathe-and-disdain-for-greer.html' title='Loathe and Disdain For Greer'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-115769514608149744</id><published>2006-09-08T13:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-08T13:59:06.110+08:00</updated><title type='text'>We'll Miss You Crocodile Hunter!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;One of the world's most beloved personalities and wildlife conservationist, Steve Irwin, has died in a freak accident involving a docile creature that is the stingray. He was filming underwater for a documentary when he got too close to the stingray and its tail suddenly pierced through his chest. It was reported that Steve had the occasion to pull the stingray's tail out of his heart in an attempt to stay alive. However, the poisonous barb had already taken its toll and a few minutes after, Steve lost his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love Steve Irwin. Everyday, before I head on out to work, I would watch his show, Crocodile Hunter,  in Animal Planet. Many people who have had the chance to meet him personally said that his quirky and full-of-life projection on camera is not lessened when he is off camera. He loved life. He loved animals. He loved his friends. He loved his family. He was a good man, and a big loss to the human race.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May we all be lucky enough to achieve half of what he has achieved in the short time he's been here on Earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found this video in YouTube.com. And of the numerous tributes there, this for me is the best, that's why I'm showing this here.&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/5oLxBxBqIy8"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/5oLxBxBqIy8" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rest In Peace&lt;br /&gt;Stephen Robert Irwin&lt;br /&gt;February 22, 1962-September 4, 2006&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-115769514608149744?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/115769514608149744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=115769514608149744' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115769514608149744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115769514608149744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/09/well-miss-you-crocodile-hunter.html' title='We&apos;ll Miss You Crocodile Hunter!'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-115517882235293962</id><published>2006-08-10T10:46:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-10T11:00:22.353+08:00</updated><title type='text'>In the Name of the Father</title><content type='html'>Why do people use God's Name to persecute others? Does this make them feel better? Do they believe that it makes it alright to do so?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find it weird how some people, even an entire race, could go and kill other people in the Name of God.  I don't know about how they look at the god they praise; but for me, my God would not allow that. My God will not tell me to hurt others.  I know my God the way Jesus introduced Him to me--a loving and forgiving God who'd want me to love other people, even if they hurt me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't pretend to impose my own beliefs on others. This is just me. My view. My faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To all those who have lost their ways, I pray that they may be enlightened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if it is I who lost my way, I pray that God shows me the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-115517882235293962?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/115517882235293962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=115517882235293962' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115517882235293962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115517882235293962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/08/in-name-of-father_10.html' title='In the Name of the Father'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-115303619721558043</id><published>2006-07-16T14:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-16T15:49:57.226+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Realization When Watching A Movie</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Last night, I was at Waltermart Makati watching the last full show of Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest with my mom. This piece, however, is not about the movie (for what it's worth, though, I loved it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My realization is that sometimes you HAVE to choose the theater where you're going to watch a movie. I never really thought about this before. It never really mattered. Well, let me qualify. It mattered when I didn't have too much money, so I have to watch in a cheaper theater. What is cheap is, of course, relative, but to my mind the following theaters are the least costly (where I had the pleasure of watching, I mean. There could be others that are even cheaper.): Robinson's Movie World (Galleria and Manila), SM Cinemas (all except in The Mall of Asia), Glorietta I and Waltermart Makati Cinemas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are really not bad theaters to watch in, except for some that have disgustingly sticky floors.  But what I'm getting at is not just the place... what's even more important is the crowd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not one to discriminate. This is not in my nature (and I'm not trying to be proud here). But I take watching films as serious entertainment. It seems oxymoronic, I know. After all, entertainment is supposed to be fun and wacky. What I simply mean is that, when I watch movies I want to be entertained to the full extent that the movie can provide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take for instance, I absolutely hate people who talk during the length the movie. A little conversation with your company is fine; but dear Lord, stop trying to be interactive with the film the entire time! What's worse is people who tell the story of the film while watching. For crying out loud, if you can't shut up, rent the damn video and watch it on your own!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More often than not, I really don't mind. But a person can't be passive forever; especially when that person has been waiting for so long to be free enough from any kind of obligations to get a chance to watch a film that s/he has been waiting to watch in the theater. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, as I was saying, one has to choose the theater one is going to watch in. It would ultimately depend on the mood of the person and the movie to be watched.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me give you an example that actually happened. The Pirates film was really funny and I had so much fun watching it. But I didn't get that ultimate enjoyment that the film could offer.  This is because I didn't get to openly laugh when I wanted to. There were funny scenes that the people around me didn't seem to understand. There was even a time during the movie when I laughed and realized that I was only one laughing. It was so weird because they didn't get what was so damn funny. Actually, now that I think about it, I'm kind of sorry for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The point is, sometimes I get embarrassed and keep the laughter under my breath. You might be thinking that I shouldn't care what people will think or say about me laughing hysterically when they aren't. The thing is, I do care. And you should too. It's a public establishment and we should all be sensitive to the other people watching. In fact, this is a universal rule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We should be sensitive to how people will think or feel when we're in public. I don't think it's a correct notion to say, "wala naman akong ginagawang masama sa kanila." Physically, maybe, but the torment that you bring because you annoy and you scandalize is simply a case of harrassment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So basically, I have realized that when I am going to watch a comedy in the english laguage, I should probably just reserve a seat in Glorietta or Greenbelt. The people who go to these theaters think in the same wavelength as I do (not tryng to be high and mighty here.). By watching with them, I get to appreciate the movie even more. Forget the price of the ticket. The important thing is, I get to have fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember, a teacher in college said that there's a different experience when watching a movie in a theater than when watching a movie at home. Inside the theater, every person watching is not a stranger. For an hour or two, all of you become acquaintances, connected together by that one film you are watching. It didn't matter whether you are poor or rich, ugly or beautiful, locals or foreigners; what mattered is that you are all bound by one experience.  And with just that short moment, we may not know it, but they have already been embedded in our lives.&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/28640448-115303619721558043?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/115303619721558043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=115303619721558043' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115303619721558043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115303619721558043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/07/my-realization-when-watching-movie.html' title='My Realization When Watching A Movie'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-115287943790263013</id><published>2006-07-14T19:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-14T20:18:03.716+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Anecdotes (Ganda!)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Thanks to Karla Garcia for these. I got them through text. Titles are my own. Some points are edited.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;ONE GLASS OF MILK&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;One stormy night, there was a child knocking at an old woman's door. The child was wet from the rain and seemed unphased. The old woman prepared for him a glass of milk.  She knew that the child's name is HOWARD.  After which, the child was very thankful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several years later, the old woman got very sick. But she was now all alone in the world and no one could take care of her because she couldn't afford to hire a nurse. One day, she was admitted to the hospital. The whole time, she worried because she might now be able to pay the bill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She woke up one day in the hospital and was told that her operation was a success. This baffled her because she never agreed to such since she didn't have any money to pay for it.  She then saw a note that laid by her bed.  With trembling hands, fearful that it might be the bill she has to pay, she took the paper and looked at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The note read:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your bill has been paid with just one glass of milk. - Dr. Howard.&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;A BESTFRIEND'S SACRIFICE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;When the baby boy was born, the family got a puppy to be his best friend.  As the boy grew to be a handsome man, the puppy also grew to be a loyal dog to him.  The boy eventually got married and had a family of his own, still the dog remained with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day, the man went to the fields to work. His wife asked him where the baby was. He answered that he left the baby sleeping with the dog. The wife got mad and instantly scuffled to hurriedly head home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she arrived at the house, she saw the dog by the door with its mouth soaked in blood. Without second thought, she stabbed the dog to death and hurried towards the baby.  She stopped in surprise when she saw that the baby was sleeping soundly with a dead snake lying next to her baby.&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-115287943790263013?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/115287943790263013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=115287943790263013' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115287943790263013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115287943790263013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/07/anecdotes-ganda.html' title='Anecdotes (Ganda!)'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-115269765749084547</id><published>2006-07-12T17:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-12T17:47:37.500+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pirates 2 Surpass Box Office Records</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://movies.yahoo.com/movie/1808556813/photo/606247"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7108/3024/320/p2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest broke U.S. Box Office Record for both the single-day and first-3-days sales, beating Star Wars III: Revenge of the Sith and Spiderman, respectively.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the single-day sales record, the amount to beat was $50 million.  Dead Man's Chest hauled $55.5 million at the end of July 7, 2006.  As for the first-3-days sales record, Pirates exceeded 2002 hit Spiderman's $115 million by summing up sales at $132 million.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read more about it at &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.abs-cbnnews.com/storypage.aspx?StoryId=43936"&gt;ABS-CBN Interactive&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-115269765749084547?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/115269765749084547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=115269765749084547' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115269765749084547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115269765749084547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/07/pirates-2-surpass-box-office-records.html' title='Pirates 2 Surpass Box Office Records'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-115163649249371817</id><published>2006-06-30T10:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-30T13:23:39.966+08:00</updated><title type='text'>An Elevator Dream</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;After a horrible day yesterday, I finally got the perfect break... while I was asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't had a great dream for the longest time! Sometimes, I was sure had a good dream, but then I end up not remembering about it. So really, that doesn't count.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But last night, I had such a nice dream that when I woke up, I felt like this day is going to be so much better than yesterday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here goes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.myoilpainting.com/images/paintings/bigsize/1024picasso-lovers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.myoilpainting.com/images/paintings/bigsize/1024picasso-lovers.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I got in an elevator and it was so packed! I stood in the middle and people still kept coming in. Suddenly, a guy entered and we sort of made eye contact--just for a moment because I quickly averted my eyes. I think I felt shy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He stood in front of me. But it wasn't like we were face to face or anything... I was slightly to my left away from him. But we were pretty close to each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had my arms crossed to my chest. A friend was immediately infront, with her back to me. I guess I realized that I was making her uncomfortable because my arm was nudging against her back, I made an effort and put my arms down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I tried to position my arms neatly on my sides, I unintentionally brushed against this guy's stomach. And not a moment too soon after I had my hands down, I felt a hand take my own and intertwined with my fingers. It was him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. Now, I have no idea who the guy was, but apparantly, I'm quite attracted to him. He definitely had a face, but it wasn't someone that I'd met, I think. Or maybe, I've met him, but just not enough for me to remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it doesn't matter who he is or what the dream meant; it was cute and it's definitely a good starter-upper for a day filled with nothing but the same old routine.&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/28640448-115163649249371817?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/115163649249371817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=115163649249371817' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115163649249371817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115163649249371817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/06/elevator-dream.html' title='An Elevator Dream'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-115157378655734569</id><published>2006-06-29T17:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-30T13:22:21.433+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);font-size:100%;" &gt;Cause you had a bad day&lt;br /&gt;You're taking one down&lt;br /&gt;You sing a sad song just to turn it around&lt;br /&gt;You say you don't know&lt;br /&gt;You tell me don't lie&lt;br /&gt;You work at a smile and you go for a ride&lt;br /&gt;You had a bad day&lt;br /&gt;The camera don't lie&lt;br /&gt;You're coming back down and you really don't mind&lt;br /&gt;You had a bad day&lt;br /&gt;You had a bad day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;That's the chorus of the song Bad Day by Daniel Powter. If you've watched the latest season of American Idol, you've definitely heard of it... because they play it everytime someone has to go home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you haven't heard it before, you can listen to it in &lt;a href="http://music.aol.com/archive/main.adp"&gt;AOL&lt;/a&gt; for free. Just Click "P" under the "Artist" category, scroll down and choose "Powter, Daniel". A list of his songs should appear on the side. When you click "Bad Day", a pop-up will appear. That's it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was my bad day. Allow me to enumerate...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  During the greater part of the morning, my computer at work was going crazy. I was the only one in the entire office who had an internet connection that wasn't working properly.  This caused me to delay working. I couldn't help it! I needed the Internet to do my job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I got my first paycheck! It would have been lucky for me coz it came in early (it's only June 29; payday is supposed to be June 30). Here's the catch... My surname was mis-spelled.  I deposited it in the bank anyway... we'll see in the following days if they'll allow it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. My packed lunch was horrible! I HAD to eat 1 pie from Jollibee because I don't really have that much money to buy a decent lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. My shoe broke! Not the heels... but the leather... it was torn off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, office hours is finally over. I have to go to school to meet up with some classmates.. I'm hoping I won't be too unlucky towards the end of the night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-115157378655734569?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/115157378655734569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=115157378655734569' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115157378655734569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115157378655734569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/06/bad-day.html' title='Bad Day'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-115079002215930069</id><published>2006-06-20T15:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-20T15:54:59.280+08:00</updated><title type='text'>INXS To Perform in Manila</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7108/3024/1600/inxs-02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7108/3024/320/inxs-02.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INXS will be here in Manila this August 15 at the Araneta Coliseum. It's their first stop in their Switch Tour in Asia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I first read about it in Ricky Lo's Article in the Philippine Star (Funfare) and confirmed it through the band's official website (which, in order to be a member of, you actually have to pay a membership fee. so weird.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nood Tayo!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-115079002215930069?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/115079002215930069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=115079002215930069' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115079002215930069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115079002215930069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/06/inxs-to-perform-in-manila.html' title='INXS To Perform in Manila'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-115070511236826691</id><published>2006-06-19T16:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-20T13:54:32.430+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Johnny Depp on Newsweek!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7108/3024/1600/nw_ah_johnny_060617.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7108/3024/320/nw_ah_johnny_060617.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you may or may not know, I am a huge Johnny Depp fan (figuratively and literally speaking  ;p).  I came across an article about him in the Internet... by chance. Thanks to my job!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This, I think, is the latest edition of Newsweek.  They have the article online, so if you're just as interested please click on the link.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/3032542/site/newsweek/"&gt;A Pirate's Life: Johnny Depp&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lapit na Pirates 2!!! I wish I could watch it in the theater!&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/28640448-115070511236826691?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/115070511236826691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=115070511236826691' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115070511236826691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/115070511236826691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/06/johnny-depp-on-newsweek.html' title='Johnny Depp on Newsweek!'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-114941507582691196</id><published>2006-06-04T17:53:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-08T21:15:15.310+08:00</updated><title type='text'>KIM CHIU: Pinoy Big Brother Teen Big Winner</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.abs-cbn.com/entertainment/ent-feat.aspx" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="Thanks to abs-cbn.com for the pic" src="http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/44533bd0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;From Day 1 in the Big Brother house, the boys have already noticed her. With her long straight hair, chinita eyes and adorable smile, this 16 year old girl was dubbed Chinese Cutie of Cebu. But apart from being pretty, she's also quite talented. She dances, sings and even plays the guitar; and let's face it, a girl playing a guitar is definitely cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's also not afraid of making a fool of herself. I remember the first time I openly declared that I love that girl... she farted and actually said it out loud. If I remember it correctly, I think she was consoling Miki after her scuffle with Olyn. Kim suddenly and boldly said, "Ayan, nautot tuloy ako." Hysterical laughter bursted from Kim, Miki and Clare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kim started off the show with Mikee as her "loveteam". This began with a Truth or Dare game where Mikee was asked who his crush was in the house and said it to be Kim. Kim was also asked the same question and said it to be Mikee. From then on, the two had always been paired up. The guys backed up from any kinds of moves on Kim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But later on, Kim had lost interest in Mikee and shifted her attention to Gerald. Earlier in the show, I believe that Gerald also said that he had a crush on Kim. However it was only later on that Kim admitted he had a crush on Gerald. This is how the new loveteam was formed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite frankly, I find ABS-CBN too obviously biased. They had insisted on pairing up the two at the expense of a disappointed Mikee. It seemed to me that they prioritized Kim and Gerald over Mikee and Clare. If I'm wrong, well that's just my point of view.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now let me comment on the Big Night...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't the best. I think the Celebrity Edition Big Night is better. The Teen Edition Big Night is not as big as it ought to have been; which is a shame really. I have no qualms regarding the location, however. Although it's a smaller venue than the others, it was actually better and more convenient for those who are watching. The costumes of the characters on stage were good, although the set itself is mediocre. The only part I really loved is Keanna Reeves in her butterfly costume!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Best gown of the night, for me, was worn by Angelika Dela Cruz. Toni Gonzaga changed into several coutures, but none of them found comparison to Angelika's. Bianca Gonzales, once again, was as plain as ever. The print of the gown was not flattering at all. Her hair was too simply made. Her over all appearance did not not even whisper "big night", there was nothing big about her. Not even the tiara could save her. Mariel Rodriguez wore the biggest mistake of the night! Her white gown screamed "Whore"! The plunging neckline was too plunging. It was not fit for the occasion. The theme was "fairytale fantasy" for crying out loud; not "fulfill men's sexual fantasy"! But I have to give her some points for a great hair-do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The performances of the night were horrible. There was only one actual performance there, it was when Sam Milby, Toni Gonzaga and Nikki Gil sang LIVE towards the end; but that's not commendable either, it was just okay. I'm totally biased against lip synching. Shame to Erik Santos, most of all!!! I would've expected such lowly acts from actors pretending to be singers, that's forgiveable; but for a man to win a SINGING contest and lip sync? It's just wrong. From here on, forgive me if I could only think of him as Mr. Britney.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the clothes of the Big Four, I hate the producers for allowing Clare to wear such ridiculous gown. It was not flattering to her!!! What the hell?! You dressed the other 3 like they're royalty and you gave the Barrio Babe of Bukidnon a dress Barbie wouldn't even wear! I don't care whoever the hell made it. It was an ugly dress and should not have been forced on Clare. The colors were just way too dark. If you all don't know it, pastel=youth. What happened to peach? What happened to sky blue? What happened to pink, when the dress was being designed? Clare's gown is my biggest rant in the Big Night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for our big winner...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't rooting for her at all. I had an inkling feeling that it might be Kim, but I wanted it to Gerald. And when Gerald was called to be the 3rd Big Winner, I wanted it to be Mikee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not saying she doesn't deserve it, maybe she does, after all she got more than 100% of votes compared to Mikee's number of votes. None of them really improved while inside that house. To be bold about it, none of them deserved to win. To my mind, none of them grew as a person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Pinoy Big Brother, we saw Nene turn from a tough girl to a person who curled up and softened when she reunited with her mom for 100 seconds. We saw her stand up against Big Brother thinking that he'd gone too far; but upon explanation by the "all-knowing" Kuya, she sucked in her pride and asked for forgiveness. This, and her Coconut Tree stunt, gave her 6 million Pesos worth of prizes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Pinoy Big Brother Celebrity Edition, although Keanna Reeves got the most votes, I believe that John Pratts was the one who improved the most. From a laid back young man, he became the knight in shining armor inside the house for the final week of the big four. He barely slept and kept close watch of the eggs they were tasked to protect. He took the activity seriously when the others slept on it. In fact, he was the only member of the Big Four that was commended by Big Brother after that ordeal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Pinoy Big Brother Teen Edition... well, I don't know. It was nothing more than a paid vacation for all of them. And it was just like watching their home movies every night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I can really say is... Thank God that's over.&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/28640448-114941507582691196?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/114941507582691196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=114941507582691196' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/114941507582691196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/114941507582691196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/06/kim-chiu-pinoy-big-brother-teen-big_04.html' title='KIM CHIU: Pinoy Big Brother Teen Big Winner'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-114925543311427702</id><published>2006-06-02T20:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-06T18:21:18.990+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The 5 Stages of Letting Go</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;I formulated these after I have let go. This is something I personally believe in and not one that I try to impose on others. If you agree with it, well and good. If not, well, let's just respect each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have found that after a heartbreak, a person goes through these stages and should not deny nor suppress them. It's never healthy. Denial is such an ugly thing. The best thing is to just admit that you're going through the stages and never sugarcoat them. I am telling you, it's all right to go through them. You will not be judged as mean or inconsiderate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Situation: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Your girl/boyfriend dumps you. You're still very much in love with her/him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Stage 1: Self-pity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;More often than not, when another lets us down, we get the feeling that we're not good enough. We get to the thinking that that's the reason why s/he dumped us. We think horribly of ourselves. Sometimes, our self-esteem plummets to the ground. We feel like we are being crushed: our hearts, our souls, our whole being.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Stage 2: Anger&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;We realize that we are not the problem. S/he is the problem! The other person is an idiot and has no idea what s/he has just lost. We become hateful and revengeful. We feel rage rushing through our veins, as if it's what keeps us alive. We hate and we loathe. We want to destroy; destroy her/his life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Stage 3: Acceptance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;This is where we can sing that song... "I can see clearly now, the rain is gone..." We have finally accepted that it's over; that s/he ended it and we didn't; that we should not blame ourselves; that we should not blame her/him; that there are things that just don't last. This is not the part where we let go, this is just the door. The door hasn't even been opened yet, but we're standing right in front of it. We are now ready to open that door and let go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Stage 4: Pseudo-Let Go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;We feel like we have finally let the other person go. And why not? We haven't seen her/him for so long; we've never communicated; sometimes we're already with someone else. Yet, when you see her/him or talk to her/him, we find all the feelings and the memories coming back. We realize that the seeming "have let go" statement we made is not all that accurate. We're still in love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Stage 5: We Have Finally Let Go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;It takes a long, long, long time, somtimes, to get here. Too long even. But I'm sure we all get here. We all learn to let go. When we're here, we don't wonder anymore of the what ifs: what if I was like this, what if I did this, what if we didn't, what if we did. We don't hope anymore that we'll get back with her/him, at all. Instead, we forgive and we start a new relationship with the other, something civil and worthy of noting... as friends. There are no longer any antagonists at this stage.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;It took a very long time before I got to the final stage, but I did. It was all so difficult but I guess now that I think about it, I woudn't have it any other way. I learned a lot from the ordeal. Sweet misery, it was.&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/28640448-114925543311427702?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/114925543311427702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=114925543311427702' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/114925543311427702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/114925543311427702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/06/5-stages-of-letting-go.html' title='The 5 Stages of Letting Go'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-114864747937389989</id><published>2006-05-26T20:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T23:14:28.880+08:00</updated><title type='text'>This is What Happens When I'm Depressed</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;I just finished an interview this afternoon for a job. And I really felt like I didn't get it because of one question asked to me during the interview: "What is your priority, your studies or working with us?" Damn! I wasn't able to answer straight. If I said "work" I knew I would be lying, had I said "studies" then for sure I'm out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I decided to go to Starbucks and study instead (by the way, while I'm writing this, I have my finals exam tomorrow, pray kayo for me ha!). I guess out of disappointment on myself, I started scribbling. And I ended up writing a poem (yeah, again, I know). I didn't even have a topic in mind! So this is a bit raw, but it turned out to be pretty good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The Forgotten Mermaid&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;A lifeless remembrance of a past encounter;&lt;br /&gt;I dream more of it today than just usual wonder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like a steady, hard rock under the heat of the desert sun,&lt;br /&gt;My mind sizzles with anger on what has been done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh passion and love, I have revered thee for too long,&lt;br /&gt;And yet it was you that led me farther along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Humming now a lifeless song dedicated to a worn out memory,&lt;br /&gt;Assisted constantly by the music of the sea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;che&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;May 25, 2006&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Lungkot noh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-114864747937389989?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/114864747937389989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=114864747937389989' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/114864747937389989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/114864747937389989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/05/this-is-what-happens-when-im-depressed.html' title='This is What Happens When I&apos;m Depressed'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-114857437233135042</id><published>2006-05-26T00:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T23:16:25.716+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cheesy Poem...Brace Yourself</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;I was inspired to write this during class on a very boring morning. Para sa first and hopefully last crush ko sa Arellano Law School.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;June Purple Vines&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;So quiet and meek; alone again you waited.&lt;br /&gt;I almost walked over; “hello,” I almost said.&lt;br /&gt;But I didn’t come near you; I didn’t even look.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, there you are, buried in that book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lights go out again; I can only see you from the corner of my eye.&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if you noticed me at all; then later I just sighed.&lt;br /&gt;No, of course, you haven’t, I know that well enough.&lt;br /&gt;You have seen me, yes, but notice? What ridiculous stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then words are said out loud; they don’t affect you at all.&lt;br /&gt;I steal a glimpse of you, enough to make me fall.&lt;br /&gt;Deep in my heart I keep you, a place where no one knows,&lt;br /&gt;In my mind you wander, where thoughts of you flows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Contented, I shall be, though I cannot hold you now.&lt;br /&gt;The dreams of you here in me will not bring me down.&lt;br /&gt;So if you’re my impossible dream, then let it be.&lt;br /&gt;I need nothing more than imagine you’re with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;che&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;May 20, 2006&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-114857437233135042?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/114857437233135042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=114857437233135042' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/114857437233135042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/114857437233135042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/05/cheesy-poembrace-yourself.html' title='Cheesy Poem...Brace Yourself'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28640448.post-114857071937733808</id><published>2006-05-25T21:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-04T18:26:28.706+08:00</updated><title type='text'>TAYLOR HICKS: American Idol Season 5 Winner</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.askmen.com/men/celeb_profiles_entertainment/27_taylor_hicks.html"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="thanks to askmen.com for the pic" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7108/3024/320/taylor_hicks.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;I think he was probably one of the underdogs in the Top 12. Simon Cowell passed on him during the auditions in Las Vegas. He's had a few bad songs and a little bit more bad clothes on stage. And still, Taylor Hicks dominated the rest of the wannabe idols!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa totoo lang, I was already part of the "Soul Patrol" even before the name came to be. From his first audition up to the last song he performed, I have enjoyed them all. I can't argue that he's not exactly the one who had the best voice in the group, but he just grabs your attention and makes sure you don't look away. He's crazy! And I mean that in a good way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But even if I'm a bit of a Hicks fan, Katharine was on my number 1 list for the longest time to win the title. She's pretty, she can sing very well and seriously knows how to project in front of the camera; but I guess, this season, that's just not enough anymore. And I think that's a good thing. If you think America made a mistake by choosing Taylor, well, that's your problem. I like Katharine, but I just like Taylor more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me comment a little bit on the Finale...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved it. I think it was fairly better than last year. I loved the opening!!! The "award" giving was fun. I love that they brought the cowboys back!!! I love the girls' "woman" medley!!! I love the Burt Bacharach tribute! And naturally, I love the part where they announced who the winner was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't like the Meatloaf-Katharine duet! I mean, seriously, are the execs of that show insane? Meatloaf totally looked like he was ready to abduct Kat. I also don't approve of the Mary J. Blige-Elliot duet. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love Mary J. Blige. It's just that the 2 of them didn't work out. I think it would've been better if Taylor sung with Blige. They're both so alive on stage, it would've fit perfectly. Lastly, I didn't like the Puck and Pickler portion. It was entertaining, yes, but it didn't help Kellie with her reputation as a dumb blonde. I found it a bit insulting for her. But then again, maybe Americans love dumb blondes. I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess, we'll be fussing over AI again January of next year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, I have the mp3 of Taylor Hicks' single "&lt;strong&gt;Do I Make You Proud&lt;/strong&gt;". It's the performance on the Top2 competition, not the Finale. If you'd like a copy, catch me at YM, &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;kaoru_girl&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28640448-114857071937733808?l=dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/feeds/114857071937733808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28640448&amp;postID=114857071937733808' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/114857071937733808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28640448/posts/default/114857071937733808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dismissed-dismissive-life.blogspot.com/2006/05/taylor-hicks-american-idol-season-5.html' title='TAYLOR HICKS: American Idol Season 5 Winner'/><author><name>Dismissive Che</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05836755514017471540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g180/kaoru_girl/DSC08122.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
