<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748</id><updated>2009-03-01T20:43:48.686+08:00</updated><title type='text'>wickedly purple</title><subtitle type='html'>rain, fall upon me. wash away my pain. cleanse my wounds. let the darkness envelope me. the sun burns me. blinds me. give me back my sanity. flow through my veins. and sweep me away. i want to escape. rain, fall upon me. make me smile. make me laugh. make me jump up and down. let the waves crash upon me. and take me to greater heights. whet my appetite. fulfill my wish. let me see the raibow. and feel the raindrops. rain, fall upon me.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default?orderby=updated'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;orderby=updated'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>214</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-5345834702853297357</id><published>2008-02-27T23:58:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T00:07:49.168+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;" &gt;This will be my last post on this blog. For a few months now, I've started a new one &lt;a href="http://boknay.blogspot.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;. Why, some may ask. Although this blog holds a lot of dear memories for me, I feel that I lost myself in the midst of my posts. I stopped writing for ME. Blogging, and writing in general, became such a chore for me to do that I would resent the times I was forced to write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love writing, and I do not want to hate it forever. I want to take care of something I am so passionate about. And so I stopped blogging. After a few months, after I stopped hating to write, I wanted to try out again. I realized that I need not write everything. I can still be the MASTER of my blog. And so I chose to write again, but this time, on a different avenue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I call it my metamorphosis not from an ugly caterpillar to a beautiful butterfly but from an insecure writer to a mature one. I am talking about maturity here in the sense that I know what I WANT to write and what I CAN write. Most of them are still rants, but hey, what can I do. I matured because I realized who I was really writing for: MYSELF.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, you are welcome if you want to drop by. I'm still fixing my blog (I forgot most of the technical aspects in my absence) but I'm getting there slowly but surely--on my own time and pace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for sharing wickedly purple with me. :) Though I am not proud of some of the things I wrote, all of this blog represents a big part of who I am, and to have shared it with wonderful people made it all worth it. :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-5345834702853297357?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/5345834702853297357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/5345834702853297357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2008/02/goodbye.html' title='Goodbye'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-3332822082731371341</id><published>2007-06-28T01:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T02:17:09.037+08:00</updated><title type='text'>out of hiatus</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm officially out of the hiatus I (unofficionally) set upon my blog. I know I promised myself I would write the whole summer, but logistics, and maybe a little effort (or lack, thereof), was the problem. I've been in school for two and a half weeks already, and I just found time to write again. Although I can't write as much as before, I really want to update so that my blog won't just be a waste of bandwidth and intellectual space.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;The main problem is not the time constraints, anyway. Writing has become a chore for me to do, that I can't seem to do it for pleasure only nowadays. That's sad, considering that writing is one of the things I am most passionate about.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;This blog, too, became more of a chore than of an outlet for me at one point. And I am trying to change that. Starting with this. I might move to livejournal. I don't know. Should I?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-3332822082731371341?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/3332822082731371341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/3332822082731371341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2007/06/out-of-hiatus.html' title='out of hiatus'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-3665442981692307238</id><published>2007-04-10T15:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-10T15:47:27.000+08:00</updated><title type='text'>hot summer blues</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm back in Batangas. Back in my room, our house, our street. Low trikes, higher fare. One-ride-to-anywhere jeepneys. Television. Dial-up. I haven't unpacked yet. My clothes, shoes, books, and bags are in luggage, paper bags, and plastic bags strewn all around my room. I guess I'm happy to be back. But I'm still getting used to everything again. This week, I'll be commuting back to Ateneo for a couple of days for our Lit play practice and re-staging, and report card day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not look forward to that. I don't think I'll be happy with me Eng/Lit grades, which is sad because I enjoyed the subjects this sem more than I did last sem. But I had a lot of other things going for me and I just wasn't able to put my &lt;em&gt;everything &lt;/em&gt;into it. And now I'm regretting it because I won't have English again, for the rest of my college life (that is, if I don't take up a minor either in Creative Writing or Lit-Eng). Physics lecture is, as expected, one big PFFT. I got a good grade on Lab though. I don't even want to think about math. I don't know about Fil. I know I am being grade concsious but I really want those grades. Godo and I have always talked about our grades (we're both aiming for something in the grade department) and it looks like we're both going to be disappointed by our expectations. Though knowing Godo, he'll be pessimistic about everything and then get an As. Haha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not that grades are everything for me. But they are a reflection of how well I am doing. They mirror what I did last sem. I had exemplary advisory marks. But I didn't give my all to my academics for the remainder of the semester. I feel I could have done more - I could have been better - but I was too lazy to push myself. I became complacent. Yet again. I don't regret joining all the extra-curricular activities I did but I do regret not managing my time better.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always think that I have all the time in my hands when I really don't. I end up cramming something I could've started and finished hours, days ago. I think I've gotten worse through the years. I need to be able to manage my time better. All that crap about cramming and getting good grades is just that - ABSOLUTE CRAP. I don't know about other schools, but Ateneo demands a lot from its students. Even though I just took 16 units last semester I felt as if I was taking double the amount. The high school style of cramming will not work. Sometimes, yes. But it will not save the day always.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took me two semesters to realize that. I just hope I remember it through this god-awful heat all the way to next sem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-3665442981692307238?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/3665442981692307238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/3665442981692307238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2007/04/hot-summer-blues.html' title='hot summer blues'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-5276664534438236734</id><published>2007-03-19T21:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-19T21:26:34.466+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='songs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='musical'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='theater'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hell sem'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rent'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ego boost'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='iris'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drama'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='powerpoints'/><title type='text'>viva la musicale</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I've never been much of a music person - it has always been books, books, and more books for me. I read, that's what I do. Besides, I have a hard time remembering titles and authors enough as it is, so it's harder for me to remember lyrics, titles, and singers. See, &lt;em&gt;Iris &lt;/em&gt;by the Goo Goo Dolls is my favorite song, but until now, I don't know all of the lyrics.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's how hopeless I am :( I feel bad that I can't remember the lyrics to my own favorite song, but that's just the way it is. Other music buffs would say that I am not a true music person. Well, I'm really not. I don't do songs. I have a limited knowledge of tunes, and I confess it falls mostly under the cheesy pop category. Heck, I can't even make pop cultural references to the Backstreet Boys.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it stems from growing up in a non-musical family. We never had any radio in the house, and we don't have cable so it's hard to tune in to all those music channels. I don't really buy cds (I'd much rather spend Php on books) and I don't download mp3s. Those jobs fall to my younger sister. Nevertheless, I did have my share of obsessions, like Westlife and Britney - yes Britney! And I'm still hoping for a recovery for her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm going way beyond my topic, which is explaining my title. *points above* Earlier during Lit class our group presented a report on the musical. We were given a free reign to choose a topic concerning drama and we chose Rent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't say I love Rent because I've only seen the play and it was mediocre, and really sub-par compared to the theater production itself. But, I did like it. Years back, I hesitated in reading/watching it because I thought that the whole concept of AIDS and Bohemia were too much for me. Well, I found out that it I could handle it. Or maybe because I've grown up since then. In any case, I was able to appreciate it, especially the songs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember the lyrics or tune (I swear I am tone deaf. I can imagine or play the song in my head, but I can't translate it to my vocal chords, haha) but I know they are beautiful. I don't know what they thought of our report, but I was happy with it :) Especially with my powerpoint presentation! haha. The last powerpoint I made was too animation heavy so Ethan (my laptop) lagged, so this time, I made it a point to decorate the slides without using animation. It turned out pretty good anyway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is just an ego boost of myself, in the end. I need it &lt;em&gt;naman &lt;/em&gt;so &lt;em&gt;pagbigyan na. &lt;/em&gt;hahaha. As I was saying earlier: "&lt;strong&gt;THIS WEEK IS THE CULMINATION OF MY HELL SEM.&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stuff to do TONIGHT:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;-&gt;make Physics paper about Home Alone (so I won't have to do it tomorrow)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;-&gt;study for Math LT (boohoo, I need at least 86)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-5276664534438236734?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/5276664534438236734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/5276664534438236734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2007/03/viva-la-musicale.html' title='viva la musicale'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-9091299856494681319</id><published>2007-03-19T00:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-19T00:55:09.862+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hell sem'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wrong time'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flash photography'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='powerpoints'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lit analysis paper'/><title type='text'>bad timing</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I really do pick the wrong times to start things. Take "reviving" this blog for example. I picked the most inappropriate time to go back to blogging. It's the culmination of my hell sem (yes, hell sem - NOT week, NOT month - HELL SEM) and here I am doing something I've neglected doing for the most part of the school year (or ever since January).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something just came at me and I logged onto blogger again. Will this last? I don't know. I've realized that what turned me off from blogging was that I felt "forced" to blog - like my blog wasn't mine anymore. Well, I've come back with a vengeance. I know that I still have some responsibility as a citizen of the world wide web, but I am an individual, too - and I need to address that personal need. I need to be personal again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back to picking the wrong time. Like today. I had the whole Sunday to work on my lit analysis paper and lit powerpoint presentation for our group report on Rent. But I procrastinated, and before I know it, I'm going to cram our powerpoint presentation again. I don't think it'll be too difficult anyway, since I just have to put everything on powerpoint. I still need luck, though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-9091299856494681319?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/9091299856494681319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/9091299856494681319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2007/03/bad-timing.html' title='bad timing'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-9089734984063377158</id><published>2007-03-17T22:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-17T23:02:53.621+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flash photography'/><title type='text'>blinding light from a metal canister</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Flash Photography&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;by Eric Gamalinda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;This could have been someone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;who died of lightning long ago;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;easy to imagine &lt;em&gt;how the skies&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;broke and the fulguration&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;like a skull exploding. &lt;/em&gt;I know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;only what I see with my eyes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;Think of it as a current&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;impervious to the ordinary run&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;of lives,&lt;em&gt; a source of ancient mystery&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;but neaningless and inadvertent&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;now, a whole world spun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;of rumor, of perpexity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;Chooses what it likes to recall.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Selects not with love,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;but light&lt;/em&gt;. Does its harm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;in darkness, in the thrall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;of poisons. May be portraits of,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;still lives with, soft porn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;Or more urgent: as though to say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;all that we've lost&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;still persist in their absence,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;and the photograph is a way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;of not seeing, and the most&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;we can hope for is that the lens,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;this indifferent apparatus,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;somehow borrows the light&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;of those who gave meaning&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;to the darkness in us,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;and the faculty of sight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;dispels the terrifying&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;realization that we are alone,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;that the world forgets.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;All told, not absence but&lt;em&gt; memory&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;takes what it can&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;and we pay our debts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;by remembering completely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#330033;"&gt;I'm back.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-9089734984063377158?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/9089734984063377158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/9089734984063377158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2007/03/blinding-light-from-metal-canister.html' title='blinding light from a metal canister'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-116921131994010531</id><published>2007-01-19T20:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-19T20:55:22.236+08:00</updated><title type='text'>one day after math midterms</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;BLAH.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye to the last (hopefully) math midterms I will take in my college life. Math finals, here I come. Ooh, jooyyy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-116921131994010531?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116921131994010531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116921131994010531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2007/01/one-day-after-math-midterms.html' title='one day after math midterms'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-116886579223957536</id><published>2007-01-15T20:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-15T20:56:33.343+08:00</updated><title type='text'>one day of ending</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I've reverted to my "one day of [insert word/phrase/comment]" titles. The last one was a flub, a mere speck that I don't want to repeat, ever again. Seems childish, I know. But when you're too tired of growing up fast, there's no alternative than to go back to being a child. Trust me, I know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, IT'S OVER. DONE. FINITE. SHIPPED OUT TO THE DEEPEST CAVE OF THE UNDERWORLD AND NEVER TO UNEARTHED IN MY LIFETIME. What I'm talking about is this project I headed for my home org, ACOMM, which happened last week. I felt my heart sigh in relief one moment, then rapidly flutter again the next second. I was raving mad, crazy, dead. I was bitched at. I was frustrated beyond the ends of the earth. I was left alone; picked up by people who happened to pass by and took pity. I was, and that is the end.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never want to back again. It was a learning experience, but it was only a one-time thing. I have other priorities to follow, other demands to meet. I had a few glorious hours to think that I had nothing else to do, then reality, as it always does, settled in and made itself comfortable in the bed I should be sleeping at.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should be studying for math right now, but I'm not. I haven't even started. We have a free cut for Fil tomorrow, which means that my first and only class (since I have a free cut in P.E., too) is Math at 12PM. :) Long test no. 2. :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See what I mean about feeling a range of emotions at (almost) the same time? I don't know why I haven't started studying. I was doing so well today. I followed all my schedules and did all my chores. Maybe it's because I know I have time in my hands. But do I, really? I mean, do I really have enough time or am I just stretching the truth to accomodate what I want to believe? Our discussion in English earliear had me thinking that. It's nice that English and Lit can exercise my brain again because for a long time, they just rotted it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We discussed poetry in Clifford Geertz' &lt;em&gt;Cockfight. &lt;/em&gt;Actually, they continued it, I just sorta weaved myself in (I cut last Friday. &lt;em&gt;Guess why.&lt;/em&gt;) We finally reached a conclusion that the Balinese used the cockfights as a metaphorical mirror -  a way to view themselves more deeply (perhapes, with different individual interpretations), more imaginatively, more accurately - compared to seeing themselves literally in an actual mirror. Why did I remember these thoughts? Because I remembered my teacher Mr. Larry Ypil. Why did I think of him? Because I saw a picture of him in multiply.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did I see a picture of him in multiply? Because I searched for him in google and the site came up. Why did I search for him in google? Because I was looking for filipino poetry in english, and I thought, heck, my own teacher won a Palanca for that. Why was I looking for filipino poetry in english? Because I volunteered to help in our class's presentation in the fine arts festival next week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which brings me to my next point.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I exhaust myself beyond recognition. I push myself far beyond my limits. I'm about to die, and suddenly, everything ends. I'm free again, in spite of looming KATIPUNAN deadlines and research papers. It's supposed to be my recuperationg period. But I go ahead and volunteer for something else, which I know will absolutely make this week another crazy one. Why? Do I really want to kill myself? No. It's just that, I know I'll carry the pressure and I might die of the exhaustion, but I can't get away from it. Let me explain with this analogy: When I'm in the middle of the school year, I start thinking of summer and hoping that school ends aready. After the first few weeks of summer, I start thinking of the first day of classes and wish that I were in school already. It's a bi-polar thing which I'm in the middle of. I can't live in complete pressure, but I can't survive in complete nothingness either. If I'm left with nothing to do for more than a week, I become a bum, and a terrible, good-for-nothing one at that. I'm that bad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now, I've busied myself up again. I just hope I don't kill myself in the process. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-116886579223957536?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116886579223957536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116886579223957536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2007/01/one-day-of-ending.html' title='one day of ending'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-116817991301906808</id><published>2007-01-07T22:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-07T22:26:52.643+08:00</updated><title type='text'>BE THERE.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Guys, check this out!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v628/wicked01/yvoteposter5B15D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Studio 23, ACOMM and The Guidon present&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;YVOTE! Kabarkada, Bumoto ka!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;January 8 to 12!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Monday, January 8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;1230PM - opening of exhibit at the MVP Basement 430-6PM – Broadcasting Workshop, Faura AVR&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Learn spiel writing and reporting from broadcasters WILLARD CHENG, MAI RODRIGUEZ, AND RIA TANJUATCO-TRILLO of News Central!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tuesday, January 9&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;430-6PM – Talk on Philippine Branding, SS CSR &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Learn how the Philippines can have a better BRAND image. Speakers include Bam Aquino and representatives from Why Philippines, NYC!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Wednesday, January 10&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;430-6PM – 2007 ELECTIONS News Plenary, SS CSR &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Talk to broadcast personalities MARIA RESSA, LUCHI CRUZ-VALDEZ, CHARI VILLA, JULIUS BABAO, MARI KAIMO, NIÑA CORPUS, AND BERNADETTE SEMBRANO and voice out your opinions on this year's hottest topic -- the 2007 elections.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thursday, January 11&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;430-6PM – Talk/Film Viewing on Environmentalism by the Firefly Brigade, Reema Chanco, and Juddha Paolo, co-presented by the Environmental Science Society (ESS), SS CSR See "We Are Traffic," a film never been shown in the Philippines .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Learn the state of our air today and what YOU can do about it.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Friday, January 12&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;430-6PM – Voters' Education Workshop by NAMFREL and AYLA, co-presented by The Sanggunian and Social Involvement Now (SIN) at the SS CSR &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;YOUR vote can make a DIFFERENCE! But how do you know WHO to vote for? NAMFREL Commissioner JOSE CONCEPCION tells us how.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;6-11PM – YVOTE! Concert at the Cervini Field&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Celebrate your right to vote! &lt;strong&gt;Hosted by PATTY LAUREL, BETTINA CARLOS, AND CHRIS TIU, the concert includes performances by Pedicab, Juana, Empty Siren Boulevard, Dalandan Soda, Intwodays, Chad of PDA, and our own Ateneo and Orsem Idols&lt;/strong&gt;!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;BE IN THE KNOW. LEAVE A MARK.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Text 09166029258 or 09065745928 for details&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-116817991301906808?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116817991301906808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116817991301906808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2007/01/be-there.html' title='BE THERE.'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-116810140693444410</id><published>2007-01-06T23:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-07T00:36:46.946+08:00</updated><title type='text'>one day of realization</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long overdue greetings. This is actually the first year of my blogging history that I didn't post any Christmas or New Year entries. What went different?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crappy internet connection, for one. Damn those earthquakes in Taiwan.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And maybe, maybe, I was hiding from something. Running away from the wall that has been refusing me to move on for the past months. I hate that wall. High and mighty. Made of concrete and 23 inches thick. I hate it. Hate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I love the challenge. I love the gratification I feel when I reach the top and cross over. I love the adrenaline, the rush, the pulse. I love how my heart races faster and faster as I get nearer the top.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost made it. The last stretch and I'm just about to give up. My fingers have been beaten up badly. I am bruised all over. The tears want to creep out of my eyes so much but they just won't. So the feelings all end up in my chest, making it heavier and more painful to bear. A few heads nodding in agreement won't change anything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to bring that wall down, not climb over it. I want to smash it and send the pieces flying to hell where they can rot with the devil forever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I can't do it. Not when I'm hanging on to the wall, ready to cross over to the other side. Not when I depend on the wall, too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you just had to step on it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-116810140693444410?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116810140693444410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116810140693444410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2007/01/one-day-of-realization.html' title='one day of realization'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-116666623240725455</id><published>2006-12-21T09:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-21T09:57:12.420+08:00</updated><title type='text'>one lazy day</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;That is today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm supposed to go home in a few hours, but I haven't packed anything or cleaned up yet. I just woke up and I'm too tired to do anything. KT and Mich already went home. Trish hasn't packed yet, but she's not here. Once again, I succumbed to sleep. I wasn't able to do anything productive last night. Sorry Jekki :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to pack before my parents get here. I need to pull myself together.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-116666623240725455?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116666623240725455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116666623240725455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2006/12/one-lazy-day.html' title='one lazy day'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-116646659596452544</id><published>2006-12-19T02:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-19T02:29:55.980+08:00</updated><title type='text'>one monday</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I saw life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mari and I were helping Sam hail a cab home at around 4:30 PM yesterday afternoon (It is 2:15 am in Ethan's clock). We were having a hard time getting one, and Sam was getting impatient because she had a tummy ache. Usually, Katipunan is swarmed with men and kids who, for ten bucks, will get a cab or a tryke for you. I remember being in front of National Bookstore. And I remember seeing purple.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was one of those men who earn a living by getting other people their transportation. I saw him from afar, waving his hands frantically at incoming traffic, trying to get a cab for a lady a few meters in front of us. Afterwards, he approached us and asked where we wanted to go. "Pasig," Sam said. And off he went. In his ragged purple shirt, ratty shorts, and too-thin slippers, he ran towards the incoming traffic. We lost sight of him for a while, until I saw a speck of purple hailing a cab.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Normally, the cab driver would have allowed him to sit in front as the cabby drove towards the passenger. But this driver refused to let the man sit in front, and instead, made him run alongside the cab to where we were. "Asshole," was all I could muster.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's disheartening to know that one of your kind can be mean to you. It's even more disheartening to know that one of your kind has to run around all day hailing cabs for other people for only 10 pesos that probably wouldn't even feed his family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just like the kid I encountered in Divisoria last Sunday. We were walking among throngs of people when I felt someone tug my shirt. I thought that it was one of my companions, and at the back of my mind, I thought I was being robbed. It turned out to be a kid, together with his friend, asking for alms. This is where the turmoil inside me bleeds. I was taught by my religion to be compassionate and caring, to never hesitate to help. On the other hand, I was taught by my parents to ignore these people, these children, to think that they are just feeding off of me, to stop giving them easy money.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if what I do is right. I don't know if it is correct to shake my head and say no, then look guiltily back at the child, at the person whom I turned down. Religion taught me to have faith. Reality taught me to live a life. It's not easy to do both at the same time. It's not easy to be compassionate and strong at the same time. It's not easy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel for these people, I really do. But no matter how idealistic I am, I can't do anything for them. I can't do anything big to change their lives. I can't do anything small to possibly change their lives. And this breaks me, this feeling of helplessness. I can't help but compromise my feeling of self-worth whenever I think about these things. I hope that the people who are in power, those who can change their lives greatly will do so, because it will change me as well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Free cut Fil later! It means my first class is Math at 12 PM. *big wide grin* Free cut Eng/Lit tomorrow, but long test in Physics.. Boo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-116646659596452544?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116646659596452544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116646659596452544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2006/12/one-monday.html' title='one monday'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-116573209503726756</id><published>2006-12-10T13:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-10T14:49:39.953+08:00</updated><title type='text'>one saturday morning</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1144/613/1600/967429/IMG_1482.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1144/613/320/115754/IMG_1482.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Normally, I would've been in bed, sleeping until 12 pm. However, we had an insertion trip for intact and I was forced out of bed at 5.30 am, with barely a few hours of sleep. After that, it was running around trying to find blockmates and breakfast, and gifts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it was all worth it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My block, together with a management block, went to Tahanang Walang Hagdan for our intact insertion trip. At first, we thought we would be paired up with kids, but it turns out that we would be paired up with the adults. My partner was Ryan from management and Erika. She's 16 years old. She was so shy at first, but eventually she started talking when we were about to leave. She's even younger than I am. She's a kapamilya, and is excited about Sam Concepcion going there tomorrow. She's so young, too young.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is unfair. We always complain about what's wrong with our lives, but we don't realize that our suffering is just a chip off the shoulders of others. What's more, these shoulders are too young, too small, too fragile to carry the burden of the whole world. I can't imagine myself not being able to walk. And to see this on others my age, wh&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1144/613/1600/392317/IMG_1502.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1144/613/320/291036/IMG_1502.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;o still know how to smile and get &lt;em&gt;kilig, &lt;/em&gt;I am forced to admit that life judges harshly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm happy that we made one of her mornings happy. The first picture is of us three during our first minutes together. It was awkward, but slowly, everything fell into place. I am amazed how Erika can be so young and disabled, but still have the compassion for those who are suffering more than she is. She told us the heartbreaking story of a nine-year-old who was suffering from a disease that made her look 10 times as old. The kid was there, and it really was unnerving to be surrounded by so much suffering as well as love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This next pic is of us three when Ryan and I were about to leave. Thanks to Mikey for the pic! See how her smile is wider and more relaxed. :) It's sad that we had to leave just when we were getting to know each other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never really found InTACT (Introduction to Ateneo Culture and Traditions) as a useful subject; most of the time, I thought it was a waste of time. But this exposure trip made me realize that everything has a purpose. I am glad I went on this trip. I am happier that I got to share it with my bloc, A3, and the other block from management who were so game and fun. Fellow CERSANs Mikey and Mariel were there. Two representatives from each block! :D Check out my &lt;a href="http://wicked01.multiply.com/" target="_blank"&gt;multiply&lt;/a&gt; for more pics, all 117 of them :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-116573209503726756?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116573209503726756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116573209503726756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2006/12/one-saturday-morning.html' title='one saturday morning'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-116531491284523254</id><published>2006-12-05T18:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-05T18:35:12.856+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the great thing about december is</title><content type='html'>Christmas, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I get to use my &lt;/em&gt;Starbucks &lt;em&gt;planner.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Materialistic bitching at its finest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pray that I won't die of exhaustion before December 25 comes around, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-116531491284523254?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116531491284523254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116531491284523254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2006/12/great-thing-about-december-is.html' title='the great thing about december is'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-116454222284856310</id><published>2006-11-26T19:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-26T19:57:03.146+08:00</updated><title type='text'>filipino</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ano ba ang ibigsabihin kapag ikaw ay isang Pilipino? Kayumanggi. Panot. Pandak. Hindi ba't ganyan ang tingin sa atin ng mga dayuhan? Ganyan na rin ba ang tingin natin sa ating mga sarili? Masama bang ganyan ang tingin natin?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kung ikaw ay kayumanggi, parang tsokolate ang iyong balat. Isang kulay na masarap sa mata at minimithi ng mga puti. Nagpapakasunog sila sa araw para lamang makamit ang kulay ng balat na mula sa pagkabata ay nasa atin na.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lahat ba ng matangos ng ilong ay maganda? Maaari ngang matangos ang ilong mo, ngunit higit na malaki naman ito. Ang pagiging pandak ba ay isang kapansanang ipinatong sa atin ng Diyos? Isa lamang itong pagkaka-iba sa isang pangkat o lupon. May matangkad, may pandak. May matangos, may panot. Tayo lamang ang nagbibigay ng masamang kahulugan sa mga salitang ito.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wala sa ating mga pisikal na kaanyuan ang ating pagiging Pilipino. Nasa puso iyon. Kung mahal mo ang Pilipinas, kung hindi ka pa nawawalan ng pag-asa, kung may maibibigay ka pa, Pinoy ka.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I attended a lecture sponsored by the English department last Friday. The speaker was a Filipino who graduated in an American university, and is teaching in one. Physically, he looks like the normal Filipino: brown and of medium height. When he starts to talk, however, a person can see that he is American: in his words, his accent, his mannerisms, his jokes. What is he then? A half-baked American or a half-baked Filipino?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personally, I don't know which is the right answer but I know who he is trying to be. He was talking about a series of children's books published during the height of American power in the early 1900's. They were about American boyscouts backpacking all over the world, following the scent of the US territories, helping the Secret Service foil out plans to topple the American regime.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His point, however noble it was of him to have one, was not clear. He would go round and round, never really making his argument. He spent an hour or so discussing the introduction of what? He kept referring to the US as 'here' and the other places as 'there.' He called himself and the Americans 'we.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is not too hard to figure out.&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/8784748-116454222284856310?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116454222284856310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116454222284856310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2006/11/filipino.html' title='filipino'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-116420689185812438</id><published>2006-11-22T22:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-22T22:48:12.233+08:00</updated><title type='text'>big time</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Funny how everything seems out of proportion these days. People tend to blow things up. A simple misunderstanding is turned into a fight. Passion is turned into obssession. Fire is turned into rage. Time is served as a catalyst to propel everything into large scale. Even fast food stores sell meals in supersize.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sad how everything seems so big that not all can fit into the frame. The picture has become too big that it is impossible to capture everything. Moments are lost. Tears are shed. Memories are forgotten. People have become so concerned with enlarging everything around them that they forget to look at the details that make up the big picture.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier during Lit class, we talked about the evolution of memory - how it was once a revered art, and now is one lost into the maze of 30gb ipods and memory disks. One can virtually store everything into anything, that people have thought less and less of what they save. Ironically, the only things getting smaller are these memory-holding disks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever I think of memory, I remember Sherlock Holmes. He didn't have any pen and paper when he investigated his singular cases. He used his keen powers of observation and systematic memory to find the culprit. I cannot forget what he says about his "powers." He pointed out that he didn't have a bigger capacity for storing things in his brain, he just happened to choose which were useful to him and stored them systematically in his brain. I have never met a man so adept in various fields, both specialized and commonplace, that he can solve a case just by observing. He remembers every single little detail of every case he has handled, every person he helped, every method he used. Now, we have an acceptable term for what he has: photographic memory.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It amazes me how he can choose which information will be useful to him and which are just bull. Watson cannot fully accept this because most of the things he notices and remembers are the so-called nonsense stuff for Holmes. Hence, he initially finds his friend's assumptions astounding, but loses interest after they are explained. For me, the initial reports of Holmes are baffling, but the explanations he gives after on how he came to the conclusions are even more amazing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Memory can never be a conscious choice. We may think that we have forgotten what we choose to not remember, but these memories are just lurking at the back of our minds, waiting to be taken out again. I don't think we can ever forget anything completely. It's just that we can't remember everything completely as well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-116420689185812438?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116420689185812438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116420689185812438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2006/11/big-time.html' title='big time'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-116402994294643823</id><published>2006-11-20T21:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-20T21:39:03.343+08:00</updated><title type='text'>i'm back :D</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;After being away for three days and two nights, I am back to the dorm and already catching up on the online world. Nothing much happened since I went to the ACOMM Evsem at Ciudad Christhia Resort in San Mateo Rizal last Friday to Sunday. Well, my inbox was flooded.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so tiring, but more fulfilling and fun! I love the ACOMM people! :) I had so much fun with them, especially with my roommates, Team Aloha. We had Jay for our team leader so it was bound to be chaotic. hehe. Hugs to you all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First thing I did when I got back was sleep, second was connect to the internet. I sent a slew of emails regarding TNF. I just came back from to GA's (one for ACOMM, and one for the freshmen batch in the dorm). I'm going to be busy starting from now, but here I am passing away my (not so) idle time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to watch the first season of House first, since I'm already finished with the 3rd seasons of Grey's and House. Sir Ypil wants to learn the progress of our research papers (read: none, and this applies to most of my english blockmates, I think) by Wednesday, and after that is projects, projects, projects, and ed board race, and articles.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm. This post shows how &lt;em&gt;sabaw &lt;/em&gt;I have been for these past few days. I hope it turns around.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I am actually liking poetry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-116402994294643823?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116402994294643823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116402994294643823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2006/11/im-back-d.html' title='i&apos;m back :D'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-116351200738918337</id><published>2006-11-14T21:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T21:46:47.403+08:00</updated><title type='text'>pissed</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Plus tired. Don't forget tired.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Freak. It's only the second day and it feels like ages already. Must be my body clock, and all the walking. Oh, and I've stopped my midday sleeping bouts now. I actually want to be tired so that I can sleep early, but I have so much stuff to do. This is where time management is supposed to butt in.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm pissed because the dorm's network is not working properly, so it means I have to manually enter every room number to look for downloads. Good thing the reliable acent members are there plus Karla. hehe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't like basketball for PE. And my eyes want to close right now. But I still have to read for English.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hay.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-116351200738918337?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116351200738918337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116351200738918337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2006/11/pissed.html' title='pissed'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-116341795711399618</id><published>2006-11-13T19:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T20:07:37.976+08:00</updated><title type='text'>testing</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I am tired. However, I was able to upload and fix my new layout (after so many years :P). I just need to tweak a few things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First day was fun, but tiring. I drank three cups of coffee and I'm still effing beat. Maybe because I woke up at 5 am for no apparent and justifiable reason. As I said, my body clock is whacked.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will edit this after I finish changing the template.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[edit]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Yay! I finished everything already (well, except the tagboard, which I am currently editing). Today, instead of sleeping in between classes, as was my ritual last sem, I spent it with my blockmates. That was the fun part of the day :) Ria returned! :D Even though she's gonna be an irregular student now, at least A3 is complete again. English is more or less the same, although I think that I have to participate more now. Plus, I think we have more stuff to do. For Physics, the teacher seems okay. I hope that this changes my high school experience with the subject. Read:super bad. It wasn't the subject I hated, so I hope I get to appreciate physics more now. It was better than I expected because I know most of the people in the class. Yani's there! hehe. She was one of my seatmates during ES.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicca, Mari, Sam, Pauline, and I went to the SM Hypermarket beside Tiendesitas for lunch. We originally planned to eat at the latter, but it was so damn hot, so we opted for the airconditioned SM. I forgot the name of the restaurant, &lt;em&gt;basta &lt;/em&gt;it was an Italian place. OMG. Do you know how most restaurants show pictures of their dishes in the menu? Most of the time, what's shown is actually bigger than the actual serving size. It was the opposite for this resto! Good thing we didn't order additional pasta, or else we would've just wasted money. Everything was freakin' supersized! We didn't finish everything, so Mari and I, both being dormers, just took home the leftovers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I've been trying to save so that I can spend more in Starbucks. Ironic? I just want their 2007 planner. :) Call me materialistic, but I just want to have it. Aiming for a goal isn't bad, right? Besides, satiating worldly pleasures once in a while isn't bad, especially if the object of desire is beautiful and will be very useful. ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, I want to say &lt;strong&gt;sorry &lt;/strong&gt;to Pat, James, Auderz, Jeanelle, Camyl, Pao, and Matt. The Katipuneros were supposed to have dinner together tonight, but I wasn't able to go because I am so effing sleepy, tired, and aching. I'm really sorry. :( I promise to make it up to you guys next time!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;[/edit]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-116341795711399618?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116341795711399618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116341795711399618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2006/11/testing.html' title='testing'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-116319557030677753</id><published>2006-11-11T05:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-11T05:52:50.320+08:00</updated><title type='text'>bored.</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I need to make a new layout.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and maybe make one for multiply and friendster, too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has anyone noticed that I changed fonts in my posts? Can anyone tell me which one is better? Thanks! I'm doing a little experiment loosely based on something my english prof told us. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-116319557030677753?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116319557030677753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116319557030677753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2006/11/bored.html' title='bored.'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-116284324071411537</id><published>2006-11-07T03:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T04:35:50.976+08:00</updated><title type='text'>follow through</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;I haven't been able to go online the past couple of days because (1) &lt;em&gt;naubusan ako ng &lt;/em&gt;internet prepaid credit. Yes, I am still on dial-up while in Batangas, and (2) my beloved Ethan was reformatted *cue loud wail and lots of crying*.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to delete all of my dowloaded manga and episodes, and programs and games and mp3s. I even lost my savior for the past semester, winamp and divx. So now, I have to download everything all over again. :( Wish me luck. *cue more wails and crying*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I just got my grades earlier. I'm awake at this ungodly hour because my biological clock, as I have told Arik, is whacked. I just woke up two hours ago from sleep. It was tiring to go to Ateneo then attend to a lot of stuff, and then commute back alone. It was refreshing in a way, though. It got me thinking that I'm getting older and more independent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got into the dean's list. :) I wasn't expecting that because of my English and Math grades. I got a B in math (&lt;em&gt;sayang talaga yung &lt;/em&gt;B+) and a B+ in English. I was totally NOT expecting the latter because in our merit class, English and Lit doesn't have a clear boundary between them. Most of the time, I think we're discussing Lit so I don't really know anything going on in English up to when I received the mark. Does this mean that my project proposal was good? I got a B in Lit, which was in my area of expectations since most of my long test was B and some of my compositions were also B. I was hoping for a B+ though, maybe the final undid it. Anyway, I just have to do better in poetry. Oh, and I have last sem's schedule, so it means 7.30 AM classes M-F &lt;em&gt;pa rin. &lt;/em&gt;Boo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My blog's 2nd birthday was on November 4 and I was supposed to greet it then, but for the two reasons stated above, I wasn't able to, so I'm just going to greet it now. &lt;strong&gt;Belated Happy Birthday, my dear &lt;em&gt;wickedly purple. &lt;/em&gt;Thank you for the two years you have kept me company, through the good, the bad, the better, and the worse. Thank you for being the anchor when my life is in a tailspin and the spice when it is boring. Cheers to many more blogging years to come!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember when, but last week, my sister received a text message from a classmate, asking for prayers for Bro. Rafe, who supposedly drowned while in a resort in Bataan. I didn't want to believe the text. I can't believe it. I was even discussing it with Melai and Migy through text, and refraining them from thoroughly believing the issue. I texted Ma'am Noemi, and she told me that a colleague confirmed it already. Still, I didn't want to believe. Until I saw his picture plastered in ABS-CBN's Bandila.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out of all the Lasallian Brothers I have met throughout my 12-year stay in DLSL, there is no one who knew me more than Bro. Rafe. I first came to know him during my prep days, until I was in high school. He knew my entire family, and was always good-humored towards them. My imp of a kid brother possibly did everything impish towards him, and yet he only laughed and told my parents that they've got a handful. I remember the hundred horses inside his office. I remember the smile. I remember Bravo. I am not naive enough to think him perfect and pristine, but I am not cynical enough not to mourn the loss of a beloved brother who literally saw me grow up. It's painful that something so trivial can wipe away a life that is so powerful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I made the speech about the brothers' tribute last Teachers' Day, Bro. Rafe was one of those I highlighted, one of those that made an impact on my life. I still go by my last statement, that even though I am not in La Salle anymore, the values, virtues, and ideals I learned will always be with me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-116284324071411537?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116284324071411537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116284324071411537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2006/11/follow-through.html' title='follow through'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-116238288119705537</id><published>2006-11-01T19:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-01T20:38:49.886+08:00</updated><title type='text'>death of me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Happy All Saints' Day everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know any other way to acknowledge this day. Death, in all it's mystery and hype, never did have that much hold over me. Back in Level 7, I was asked by a teacher I disliked if I ever questioned God. I remember answering her that, yes, I did remember doing so when my beloved grandfather died. It was bullshit. I was an angry teenager full of angst and bitterness for people who have slighted me then, and I did not want any meddling adult who think himself god to poke in my affairs. Oh, I love (not loved - love) my grandfather very much. He was my playmate when I was young; the one, softspoken person among a family of strong heads and hot tempers who became my anchor. He died a day before my birthday. Even then, I was not devastated when he died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My grandmother (both of them from my mother's side) died Februray. I do not remember the exact date. See how an unselfish, ungrateful brat I am. I think it was the fifth or the sixth of the month, but I cannot recall exactly. I cannot remember when my grandmother stopped fighting, because I knew, and was told later on, that she fought and gasped for every breath she wanted to take. She did not want to die quite yet. I should know. I visited her at the hospital a day before she died. She loved life, loved the vigor, the power. After 5 months, she followed my grandfather to heaven. I cried the whole time when we were burying her. People around me started crying: my cousin, my aunt, my sister, and I could not help but follow. Despite this, I was not devastated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My uncle, who was a bachelor and lived with us, has never been healthy. He had a healthy appetite for food, and an even healthier appetite for liquor. If he smoked, I can't remember now. He was closest to my younger sister, and I kept my distance because I always remembered how he favored her over me. How he, with my sister standing beside him, showed me that he believed my sister. For a while, I could not stop thinking of that. After some years, though, I gave up the grudge. I simply stopped feeling anything - no remorse, no pity, no sadness. I think he tried to make it up to me, I am not sure. But my mother said that he was looking for me before he died. I did not visit him in the hospital. I didn't think he would die. I didn't believe he was too ill to follow his parents. I was wrong. After all this, I was not devastated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I see death, I can't quite stare at him in the eye. I don't like looking in on coffins, and I don't like going down to see guests during the wake, because they will just comment and gossip about me. I seclude myself and free myself of obligations - obligations to feel, to cry, to be in pain, to be numb. Numbness is feeling nothing, when you know that you are supposed to be feeling something. I was just a state of nothing. When I am alone, I like to think about things. How being returned to dust scared the living daylights out of me. When will the world end, and how? Where will I be when it happens? Will I live to see myself, and everything I have known as life, die? How will life exactly end? Will it continue to end, or begin again? Will I find my true love? If I find him, will I be able to let go of my inhibitions and tell him I love him? Will I get my heart broken a thousand times over when I find him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My head is full of questions that do not have answers. Death is one of them. I have, as I believe everyone does, a natural curiosity about death. At some point in their life, every person thinks how he is going to die, when, where, and how the people around him will react to it. My family and I chose to live when faced with death. Painfully, I watched as our once extended family lose a member one by one in less than a year. Dwelling on it was not an option; it was never part of the choices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, I think I knew that death was inevitable. At an early age, I know death, even though I have not met him. I got my chance, though, and found out that he wasn't the bad guy after all. Bad guys choose to be bad guys. Death never chose to be death, he was born and christened death, and he will continue to be so long after he will have taken my life. Life protected me, and I chose her over death, not because I loved death less, but because I appreciated life more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting in our living room, and while reading the paper, I glanced upon my grandfather's old, broken, but still loved piano, on top which lay my graduation picture. Beside my smiling face was those of my grandfather, my grandmother, and my uncle. The all looked at me, and smiled. I know they are happy, in their heaven of rainbow colors. My grandfather's hue would be indigo, like the sky just after the sun sets - cool, light, and peaceful. My grandmother would be surrounded by a soft orange-red, not strong, but warm and spread all over, enveloping her and everything around her. My uncle, I see him as a tiny spot in a sea of pure, untainted white: there he would find his beauty and perfection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In their heavens, I am in my earth, surrounded by all the colors in the world. When I die, I want my heaven to be light lavender streamed with dark purple and dark chocolate brown, with a bit of black thrown in. I want it to be my dream room, where I can continue to sleep in my bed, read my books, and type my thoughts.&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/8784748-116238288119705537?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116238288119705537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116238288119705537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2006/11/death-of-me.html' title='death of me'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-116180045379002120</id><published>2006-10-26T01:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-26T02:54:10.020+08:00</updated><title type='text'>stuff to do</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Aye says that when I blog, my every post seems like a composition to be submitted for English class. NOT. I just express myself best when I write. And if that were the case, Sir Reyes would murder my paper and shred it to pieces. There, I just broke two rules from his beloved Strunk&amp;amp;White: (1) never start your sentence with a conjunction, and (2) refrain from using would, could, and all those other verbs that denote uncertainty. I try to use whatever I learn in class when I blog so that when the time comes that I actually have to make a composition, it comes natural to me. Practice, &lt;em&gt;kumbaga.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Anyway, I'm deviating away from my usual posts, and will just list down random stuff. hehe. I feel that my blog needs the unwinding.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;I am going to have lunch with Mavic, Ma'am Nerisse, and Ms. Poblete &lt;strike&gt;tomorrow&lt;/strike&gt; later. Can't wait! :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;I need to go to Copylandia and have some of my photocopied readings for my research paper bound.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Speaking of English research paper, I need to start working on it. Wah. God help me. My roommate Trish's merit class doesn't have to continue doing their's because they're changing teachers. We are, too. But, as Kuya Migoy puts it, Sir Danny values that his students are also good researchers. So he's off to Thailand doing his research, while we also do ours (on a smaller scale).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Hobee is starting with his research! Argh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;I need to have Ethan checked. He might have viruses, or spy ware, or whatever 'ware' unscrupulous people have come up with now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Thank God Ethan was not permanently impaired and traumatized by the Starbucks' Venti Mocha Frapp incident.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Oh, Ethan is my beloved laptop. I decided to name him after Kyna told me to name my laptop because all their laptops have names (Pesto, Blackie, Toshi, Sweat Pea). I got the name from a couple of Trish's romance novels. Ethan the character was perfectly gorgeous. *sigh*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Speaking of naming gadgets, my cam is now christened as purplee. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Does anybody know how much an upgrade to a cd-rw/dvd burner will cost?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;I painted my nails red.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;I am such a spender. Today, I bought a bag, a shirt, and a water bottle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm still planning on buying a handy thermos, a shoe rack, a nifty table for my dorm, a few other toiletries, and the black rum nail polish I love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Which reminds me, I am mixed about Hale's newest album. Haven't heard Rivermaya's but am planning to buy that, and either Sponge Cola's Transit, Carrie Underwood's Some Hearts, or Kelly Clarkson's Breakaway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm resolving to watch High School Musical by the end of this week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;I have to check up on that workshop roster and Gel. Why are people not replying? =( &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;I do not want to screw up my first time as project head. No effing way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;If I run for KATIPUNAN's ed board race next sem, which position should I fun for? News ed or Arts and Lifestyle ed? Or Ops ed?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;I should really get a few furniture for my room. Swear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;While on the matter, I should redecorate it more to my own liking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;I want a new pair of shoes. Either comfy flats or wedges.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;I WILL finish all the books I bought that ONE time in National Bookstore Katipunan.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Physics or Zoology?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Goodbye, Dean's List. It was a courting doomed from the very start. :'(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Must work ass off second sem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Must EXERCISE. I can't believe I'm saying this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Must get t.v. fixed. The whole point of going home was to HOARD on watching television. It's no fun if the one inside your room is broke.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Must save money.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Must earn money.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Must stop impulsive buying. NO MORE!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;I hope that I can get my braces removed before 2nd sem starts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;I need to change my erratic sleeping habits.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;And what I'm doing right now isn't really helping.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm sure I have to do a lot of other stuff, that for the life of me, I can't remember this particular moment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Oh, I have to salvage all my pictures and burn them again (this time, with the cd-rw FORMATTED).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;And I have to make a new layout. Inspirations, inspirations.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;And last, but in no uncertain terms the least: I MUST FINISH CHICKEN INVADERS BEFORE SEMBREAK ENDS!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;DIE CHICKENS, DIE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;whew.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-116180045379002120?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116180045379002120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116180045379002120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2006/10/stuff-to-do.html' title='stuff to do'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-116152989362261407</id><published>2006-10-22T22:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-22T23:11:33.636+08:00</updated><title type='text'>i am home</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I am typing while sitting down indian-style, beside the door of my closet to the right, the bathroom to the fron, the tv and an unused electric fan to the left, and the wall with a mounted mirror to my back. This is my new room. I have stayed here once or twice before when I went home for the weekends. It is only now that I really will be staying for a long time in here. All around, one can see my presence. For one, the place became messier, and signs of someone actually living in it are evident. My shoes are ligned up along the wall together with my unpacked bags and suitcase. I probably won't unpack my clothes, since most of the closet still houses my parents' clothes (this used to be their room). I am using the box of my prom gown as table for the laptop while I squat here because the dial-up connection is here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all honesty, I still don't feel that this is my room despite all my stuff scattered around. My books are in the shelves, and the picture frames and stuffed toys are displayed. Still, they lack 'me.' My mom arranged everything, and somehow, I don't feel that I belong. I miss my old room, which had what I call my 'organized mess.' Some of my books are at the topmost shelves - the ones I can't access without the risk of breaking my back or bones. Inside the bathroom, there is an ashtray full of used cigarettes, inside the closet, most of the clothes are my parents' or those I've outgrown. The coffee table, which would've been full of books if I were the one who had the say, is full of throw pillows, and so is my dresser. Even the tv is my parents' because mine broke. The lamp I use (Krist's birthday gift) is just used as display and is replaced by a bedside table with a lamp that I have to plug and unplug.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have I really stayed away that long that when I finally come back to my house, I feel alienated? I can't imagine that the dorm would do this to me. Packing my stuff in my corner was a tiring thing. I finally realized how much stuff I have. Now, it's painful that I can't even unpack my own clothes and hang them in my own closet. I feel like I'm adjusting all over again. The catch is, this is my home, I shouldn't be adjusting. I've lived here all my life. I didn't feel like this when I first changed rooms, and now I'm left at a standstill. Yesterday, I used our pc for the first time after a long while, and when I clicked 'My Documents,' it didn't have anything. I was schocked. Was I erased from my family's own computer? Only after some digging did I uncover my files. I erased most of them myself, because the pc badly needed the extra memory.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm downloading all of the pictures I have in my multiply, because the cd I burned containg all of them got corrupted. I have to buy new cd-r's and cd-rw's to clear Ethan (my laptop) of more memory. On Tuesday, I'm going to have him checked, and hopefully, upgraded a bit. Yesterday, we went to SM Lipa and I bought a few toiletries from Watson's. Now, that was even more shocking. I spent half a thousand pesos for a few hygiene products. Everything has become so expensive, it's sinful! Since I didn't finish my shopping, I have to continue some other time. I'm glad I bought them though. Now, my bathroom seems more like 'me.' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. If I have to shop to 'own' my room, then I'd be bankrupt in no time. And I'm saving money for summer schooling. I hope that a few days worth of living in will do the same. God knows how many time my mom has redecorated every portion of our house, and I've lived through all of them. I love our home. I love my new room. I just need to accept the change first. I need to accept the fact that I was away for almost five months (the longest time I've been away from home was almost two months, back when I was 7 and we went to the States, and the latest has been 5 days during the nspc) and I need to familiarize myself to my home once more. I'm thankful and comforted by the fact that this is my home, and I know, that whatever the road may be, it will always lead me here. The end product will always be the same. It will always be my home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-116152989362261407?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116152989362261407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116152989362261407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2006/10/i-am-home.html' title='i am home'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8784748.post-116100702842088509</id><published>2006-10-16T21:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-16T21:57:08.510+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the end</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;This week is an irony of sorts. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's my first college finals week. It's my last week of the first semester of my college life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How time flies by so fast. I remember the Saturday I moved here. I remember what I wore, who I met, what I did. The scenes that have since played are soft around the edges - smooth and wrinkle free. The highs and lows, beginnings and ends, happiness and sadness - I have gone through all of them and survived.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week, I thought that I would die. I was wrong. With what I went through that week, I know that I will live through finals week. I know that on October 20, I will leave my home for the past four months and settle back into my home since birth and forevermore. In three weeks's time, I will come back, this time better-prepared, well-equipped and focused.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye to the first semester of my college life. Hello to a new beginning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8784748-116100702842088509?l=wickedandpurple.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116100702842088509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8784748/posts/default/116100702842088509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wickedandpurple.blogspot.com/2006/10/end.html' title='the end'/><author><name>wicked01</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11447726872058163913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07696821299076917829'/></author></entry></feed>