<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286</id><updated>2012-02-17T11:08:27.536+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tashes the Lazy Doll</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>180</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-6543867430022041171</id><published>2011-05-04T08:10:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-05-04T08:10:54.932+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shivering morning</title><content type='html'>I woke up shaking, because my closed eyes brought me back next to you. In that house by the ocean where we had our breakfasts watching the clear&lt;br /&gt; blue skies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-6543867430022041171?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/6543867430022041171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=6543867430022041171' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/6543867430022041171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/6543867430022041171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2011/05/shivering-morning.html' title='Shivering morning'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-1103076949369446202</id><published>2011-04-14T10:49:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-04-14T11:20:20.623+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Truth is......</title><content type='html'>No one really gives a damn. Gotta depend on yourself and make your own dreams come true. Be brave, pick up those water colours and just spray them at the world!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-1103076949369446202?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/1103076949369446202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=1103076949369446202' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/1103076949369446202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/1103076949369446202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2011/04/truth-is.html' title='Truth is......'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-6511724897254542798</id><published>2011-04-14T09:48:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-04-14T10:48:17.117+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fear</title><content type='html'>I cannot function, because his words are ringing in my head.&lt;br /&gt;I am terrified, because I could be that devil with all the wrong thoughts in my head.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-6511724897254542798?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/6511724897254542798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=6511724897254542798' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/6511724897254542798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/6511724897254542798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2011/04/fear.html' title='Fear'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-9019858768043859833</id><published>2011-03-07T23:25:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T23:27:03.749+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Perfectionism</title><content type='html'>If there's only one thing that makes you unhappy in your life, what will you do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Make it right? Or chuck it out into the trash can?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-9019858768043859833?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/9019858768043859833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=9019858768043859833' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/9019858768043859833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/9019858768043859833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2011/03/perfectionism.html' title='Perfectionism'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-933600210477039190</id><published>2011-02-09T16:02:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-09T16:45:00.061+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lucky clovers wither too</title><content type='html'>I've always felt I'm blessed, I've been showered with God's love and happy-looking lucky clovers for just about all of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet today, I sit here and ponder. Perhaps I'm leaving my heart in wrong hands, maybe I'm piercing a saber into my own heart, that it might be time to say goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; But the foolishly stubborn me clings onto to the last glimmer of hope..which is silently fading.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-933600210477039190?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/933600210477039190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=933600210477039190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/933600210477039190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/933600210477039190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2011/02/lucky-clovers-wither-too.html' title='Lucky clovers wither too'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-548961658139813110</id><published>2011-02-06T12:19:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T00:08:33.941+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What do you do?</title><content type='html'>What do you do when you've nothing to say? I should learn to keep silent when no words come to mind, when you seem like nothing more than a familiar face in the crowd.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-548961658139813110?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/548961658139813110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=548961658139813110' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/548961658139813110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/548961658139813110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2011/02/what-do-you-do.html' title='What do you do?'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-6230081427023747435</id><published>2011-02-06T03:42:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-06T10:16:40.608+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Grand expectations</title><content type='html'>A dream home is no more than a physical space if its foundation is not made of love, if it ain't filled with two people in love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-6230081427023747435?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/6230081427023747435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=6230081427023747435' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/6230081427023747435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/6230081427023747435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2011/02/grand-expectations.html' title='Grand expectations'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-2405510259606876639</id><published>2011-02-05T15:17:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-05T15:28:52.860+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Closing up</title><content type='html'>Flowers bloom only to see the withering days ahead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All these years, I've said too much and put too much of my heart on my sleeves. It's time to keep silent, and let my dewy petals close up like those timid little touch-me-nots.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-2405510259606876639?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/2405510259606876639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=2405510259606876639' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/2405510259606876639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/2405510259606876639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2011/02/closing-up.html' title='Closing up'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-8213838004028253544</id><published>2011-02-05T14:04:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-05T14:30:49.609+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Living in a bubble</title><content type='html'>My bubble makes the world look brighter. The grass looks greener and the sky always stays a pastel shade of pale blue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every once in awhile, someone comes with a needle, and bursts my little bubble. Water rushes in, and drowns me. The truth overtakes and forces me to live in reality. Humans aren't honest, everyone loves themselves the most, nothing lasts forever, you can only trust yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not the world I want to live in. I want to live in a world built with love, even if it takes all of me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-8213838004028253544?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/8213838004028253544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=8213838004028253544' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/8213838004028253544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/8213838004028253544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2011/02/living-in-bubble.html' title='Living in a bubble'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-2467198794951720973</id><published>2011-01-24T21:59:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-25T11:15:38.168+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello me</title><content type='html'>I thought of the old me today, and missed her a little. So here I am, with a lovely bouquet of white peonies, just to say hello.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-2467198794951720973?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/2467198794951720973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=2467198794951720973' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/2467198794951720973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/2467198794951720973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2011/01/hello-me.html' title='Hello me'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-8010370229505040765</id><published>2009-03-19T18:20:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T18:44:57.863+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lucky</title><content type='html'>Do you hear me? I'm talking to you.&lt;br /&gt;Across the water, across the deep blue ocean&lt;br /&gt;Under the open sky, oh my, baby I'm trying&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy I hear you in my dreams&lt;br /&gt;I feel your whisper across the sea&lt;br /&gt;I keep you with me in my heart&lt;br /&gt;You make it easier when life gets hard&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucky I'm in love with my best friend&lt;br /&gt;Lucky to have been where I have been&lt;br /&gt;Lucky to be coming home again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They don't know how long it takes&lt;br /&gt;Waiting for a love like this&lt;br /&gt;Every time we say goodbye&lt;br /&gt;I wish we had one more kiss&lt;br /&gt;I'll wait for you, I promise you, I will&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend&lt;br /&gt;Lucky to have been where I have been&lt;br /&gt;Lucky to be coming home again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucky we're in love in every way&lt;br /&gt;Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed&lt;br /&gt;Lucky to be coming home someday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so I'm sailing through the sea&lt;br /&gt;To an island where we'll meet&lt;br /&gt;You'll hear the music fill the air&lt;br /&gt;I'll put a flower in your hair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though the breezes through the trees&lt;br /&gt;Move so pretty, you're all I see&lt;br /&gt;As the world keeps spinning round&lt;br /&gt;You hold me right here, right now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend&lt;br /&gt; Lucky to have been where I have been&lt;br /&gt; Lucky to be coming home again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucky we're in love in every way&lt;br /&gt;Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed&lt;br /&gt;Lucky to be coming home someday&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-8010370229505040765?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/8010370229505040765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=8010370229505040765' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/8010370229505040765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/8010370229505040765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2009/03/lucky.html' title='Lucky'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-8886747698984438030</id><published>2009-02-14T20:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T08:16:21.795+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Magic teaspoon</title><content type='html'>Perhaps I should stop running away, I thought to myself. With a little teaspoon of courage and a fluttering heart that is gradually slipping to his side, I nodded my head very shyly. The shiniest smile surfaced on his sweet face and this day marks the beginning of a love and friendship all rolled into one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-8886747698984438030?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/8886747698984438030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=8886747698984438030' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/8886747698984438030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/8886747698984438030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2009/03/magical-teaspoon.html' title='Magic teaspoon'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-2119444722621910653</id><published>2007-03-29T11:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T20:14:27.857+08:00</updated><title type='text'>He melts my heart.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2NgMAG-Uaic/RgstXcjFQjI/AAAAAAAAAAc/PEoIcuPVBUI/s1600-h/280307+Knut+01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047177688222351922" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2NgMAG-Uaic/RgstXcjFQjI/AAAAAAAAAAc/PEoIcuPVBUI/s200/280307+Knut+01.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Have you heard of Knut?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you haven't, here's a picture of him, the famous 3-month-old polar bear who was unfortunately rejected by his mother. He should have his furry best friend by his side, but sadly, after their mother had left them both to fend for themselves, his twin brother didn't make it. Sobbles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ain't he the cutest baby boy! All cuddly and furry, he has the roundest eyes, sweetest smile and cutest ears. My heart melts each time I see him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way he mischeviously runs about is so cute and just look at how &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2NgMAG-Uaic/RgstcsjFQkI/AAAAAAAAAAk/EZmtYpdG6-A/s1600-h/280307+Knut+02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047177778416665154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2NgMAG-Uaic/RgstcsjFQkI/AAAAAAAAAAk/EZmtYpdG6-A/s200/280307+Knut+02.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;adorable he is playing with that soccer ball! I adore him to bits! And it hurts me so much (or maybe, even angers me) to know that activists out there are protesting that hand-rearing Knut is a violation of animal rights and he should be put to sleep. I don't care if that poison only takes 2 seconds to end his life. I don't care if he will not feel any pain when he is being killed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Point is, I just don't get it. Why should his life be put to a halt just because his mother refuses to take care of him? I know, I know, I know. I know that wild animals should not be humanised, I know they probably can never be domesticated. I understand that they should be allowed to live the exact way they would if they were in the wild.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But........in Knut's case, which is the greater evil? To let a human take care of Knut until he can take care of himself? Or to kill Knut?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The answer is clear to me, it's not as if the Berlin Zoo will throw Knut into the wild, after domesticating him, right? He's going to live in the zoo, he's going to be happy polar bear. Yes, he will be less wild, he may not be able to fend for himself if you dump him into the wilderness. But just make sure you don't throw him out into the wild and everything will be rosy and cheery for Knut, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knut has a new found best friend (who also valiantly taken on the role of a father), Thomas, a zookeeper. Thomas has moved into the zoo to take care of Knut. He sleeps in a bed by Knut's crate, bottle feeds him, croons Elvis hits to him and even showers this baby with Christmas gifts. He loves Knut heaps, and I'm sure Knut loves Thomas truckloads too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The director of the Aachen Zoo believes it was a wrong decision to save Knut and said this: "It is not correct to bottle-feed a small polar bear. He will always be fixated on his keeper and will never grow to be a proper polar bear."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But say this to me anytime, and I'll give the same reply. I prefer a living Knut to a dead Knut. I prefer a not-so-proper-polar-bear Knut to a Knut who ain't breathing and cannot move. Not so proper? Does 'not so proper' just mean he is different from wild polar bears? Different, as in he probably can't find his own food if you throw him in the oceans? Does that difference matter so much? Does that matter more than Knut's right to live?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want Knut to be able to live. I want Knut to be a happy smiling polar bear. I want Knut to have his new best friend by his side and live happily ever after in our crazy warped world, where animal rights have contradicting meanings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Save animals! Kill animals! Apparently to activists, in Knut's case, they equate to the same darn thing: animal rights. What an insane world..............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Click here to read more on Knut: &lt;a href="http://www.news.com.au/dailytelegraph/story/0,22049,21421012-5006007,00.html"&gt;http://www.news.com.au/dailytelegraph/story/0,22049,21421012-5006007,00.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-2119444722621910653?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/2119444722621910653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=2119444722621910653' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/2119444722621910653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/2119444722621910653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2007/03/he-melts-my-heart.html' title='He melts my heart.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2NgMAG-Uaic/RgstXcjFQjI/AAAAAAAAAAc/PEoIcuPVBUI/s72-c/280307+Knut+01.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-598244585907284681</id><published>2007-03-21T12:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T20:14:28.002+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The other Hoppo.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2NgMAG-Uaic/RgC4luEdSeI/AAAAAAAAAAU/Djo9napVl1c/s1600-h/Bondi+Hoppo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044234540816353762" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2NgMAG-Uaic/RgC4luEdSeI/AAAAAAAAAAU/Djo9napVl1c/s200/Bondi+Hoppo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Hoppo, You're the Winner of Australian Lifeguard of the Year Award in 2006! &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Okay, okay, I'm talking about the Other Hoppo, the one who resides at the famous Bondi, not the one whom ermmmmm shrieks when she sees crumpled tissues. Heeeeeeeeeeee!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, you can catch the Other Hoppo live in action in the show 'Bondi Rescue'. Typically, the episodes show random things such as very toned (Hehe!) lifeguards rushing out in the surfboards in the scary splashing waves to rescue weak swimmers, to them searching for lost children or even apprehending perverts. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;But last Monday's episode was heartwrenching. A lifeguard at the tower spotted a swimmer, but lost sight of him in just a split moment. It was unknown if the swimmer had just dived and swam away, or if he was swallowed by the gripping waves. To be on the safe side, the search started. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Every lifeguard was engaged in the search but they could not find that swimmer. After some time, the search was put to a halt. Afterall, they were not sure who they were looking for, no one had reported any missing persons and the swimmer could have long reached the shores safely. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Yet 2 hours later, a lady and her son came forward to report a missing person: her husband, a doctor from Mongolia. They last saw him approximately 2 hours ago and he was a weak swimmer. The lifeguards wasted no time and called in the helicopters and sent the team out in jetskis and surfboards. After a long search, they finally found him. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sadly, it was too late. He was overpowered by the waves and could not be revived. He left behind his wife and a teenager son. The even sadder part? He and his family had just migrated to Australia a week ago, to start on a new phase of their life. The saddest part of all? It was his birthday. :( This is one of those days you can find no words to say besides 'So sad!' It was such a depressing day at Bondi, leaving all the lifeguards devastated. It was the first drowning in 4 years at Bondi. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Anyway, okay, this is meant to be a happy blog entry, to introduce the heroic Other Hoppo to all of you guys. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;P.S Hoppo, is he your alter ego? Like one moment, you are here being our silly lame Hoppo. Next moment, you fly halfway around the earth to rescue people in the rough seas! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;You can read more about the Other Hoppo here: &lt;a href="http://www.ten.com.au/ten/2676.html"&gt;http://www.ten.com.au/ten/2676.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-598244585907284681?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/598244585907284681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=598244585907284681' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/598244585907284681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/598244585907284681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2007/03/other-hoppo.html' title='The other Hoppo.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2NgMAG-Uaic/RgC4luEdSeI/AAAAAAAAAAU/Djo9napVl1c/s72-c/Bondi+Hoppo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-1200779298054852908</id><published>2007-03-16T14:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-16T15:18:48.731+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of the blue.</title><content type='html'>Out of the blue, a memory of something that happened exactly 21 days back popped right into my head. And I went "Darn! How could I have forgotten about this!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 weeks back, in the wee hours on a Friday morning, I was shifting about in my seat, waiting for the plane to reach its destination soon. Getting bored and weary, I looked out of the window and suddenly I saw a SHOOTING STAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was beautiful. I'm not sure if this is the first time I caught sight of a shooting star (Pardon my bubbly goldfish memory) but this is definitely the first time I saw a shooting star on board a flight! How lucky can I get! It can't be something THAT common, right? Hehe!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its beauty was amazingly phenomenonal. It left me speechless for a split moment (Probably just dropped my jaw) thus, by the time I got to nudging Double A 'Hey, can you see that? Can you see that? It's a shooting star!', it has long departed into the darkness of the skies. And obviously, he saw nothing thanks to my unintended delayed reaction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A minute ago, I tried closing my eyes, hoping to see its beauty again. Sadly, it's blurry. I wish there was some technology that could take a photo of my memory while it's all still crystal clear. But on second thoughts, I really shouldn't wish for such advanced technology because nothing, absolutely nothing is impossible in this world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe someday, I will be up in the skies, riding a shooting star to Tokyo. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-1200779298054852908?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/1200779298054852908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=1200779298054852908' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/1200779298054852908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/1200779298054852908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2007/03/out-of-blue.html' title='Out of the blue.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-3334701198013215635</id><published>2007-03-13T16:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-13T16:42:58.020+08:00</updated><title type='text'>You know it's a good day when.....</title><content type='html'>You're sitting in a crowded bank minutes before its closing, waiting somewhat patiently for your queue number to be called. You blast your music to entertain yourself.........And suddenly, you realise the guy beside is saying something to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Sorry I didn't catch you. *Quickly taking off my earphones*&lt;br /&gt;Him: Oh, I'm wondering what's your queue number?&lt;br /&gt;Me *slightly bewildered*: *Turned the slip of paper towards him* 4-3-9.&lt;br /&gt;Him: Mine's 435 and I don't need it anymore. I'm queuing for something else and need a B-ticket. *showing me 2 tickets, a A and a B* You want it?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh okay, that's great! Thanks! *and happily took it from his hands*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beep! A-4-3-5, A-4-3-5.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moment I was done at the counter and turned to walk towards the exit, there he was, right where he had been, looking at me with a smile. I returned a smile and mouthed the word 'Thanks'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, he made my day. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-3334701198013215635?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/3334701198013215635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=3334701198013215635' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/3334701198013215635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/3334701198013215635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2007/03/you-know-its-good-day-when.html' title='You know it&apos;s a good day when.....'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-4390003215287876839</id><published>2007-03-12T10:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-13T14:38:58.975+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A day in my life.</title><content type='html'>Hi,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm Ginger, the black skinny loop-ear bunnie of 2 weird self-conflicting owners. Two months back, they say I'm all skin and bones and need to put on weight. Now, they rub my tummy and say I'm fat. I hate it when they do that because it tickles (Btw, that makes me feel fat which I ain't....I think.....), so I started growling at them each time they do that. Now, they say I am rude. It is getting really hard to please them, so I don't bother to do so anymore. Not like I ever did anyway, haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, the big one (I've two owners, the big one and the small one) went out for a game of soccer. So I'm left home with Glory (my cute spotted boyfriend) and the small one. Nothing much happened really, just the following:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Tiptoed to steal the piece of paper (on the coffee table) holding onto the LAST piece of apple. Come on, why doesn't she want to give me the LAST piece of the DELICIOUS (drools....) apple! Sob. So I had to snatch the good food for myself, right? When she found it in my mouth, she chased after me (all the way back to my house) and dug half of it out of my mouth! So rude, ain't she? She kept saying it's rotten, whatever does the word 'rotten' mean? It's an apple for goodness sake. Apple! Delicious red apple!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Tripped over that darn wire. Why do these two people have wires all over the place? Don't they know it's a hazard?! Anyway, it was a bad day. I tripped over the modem wire and it fell from the table, landing on a stack of bowls of plates. CLANG! And I knew I was in deep shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) I was happily chewing a paper bag behind the tv console. Dark and cosy, I love this place. Then the small one had to come disturb me and chased me out of my lovely corner. She then went ouching and whooing. Apparently, she hurt her leg while squashing behind the console. Hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, so there! A day in my very ordinary life with my dalmatian-wannabe boyfriend and my two owners, who are also known as my food givers and on good days, I call them my angels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got to go now, my boyfriend is here to groom my fur (for free, hahaha).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Ginger&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-4390003215287876839?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/4390003215287876839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=4390003215287876839' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/4390003215287876839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/4390003215287876839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2007/03/day-in-my-life.html' title='A day in my life.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-1508507261135069466</id><published>2007-03-12T06:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-13T16:19:22.674+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Laptop hates work.</title><content type='html'>Late last year, my laptop gave up on its tender life on 3 occasions. 3 times, within 2 bloody (pardon me) weeks. These 2 weeks encapsulated a couple of due dates, dates which were absolutely non-negotiable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blue screen of death (BSOD), as the technie world calls it. My laptop suffered from the widely feared BSOD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To revive my laptop, I sacrificed all the precious trash I kept in my hard disk. And during the 3rd time that I reformatted my laptop again, my other half called me the 'Queen of Reformatting'. Gosh, I was thinking 'It's either my laptop detests me or it plainly hates work!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All was rosy through summer. My laptop served me well and was perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that we entered the 3rd week of its hectic working life, it decided to tell me that it REALLY hates to go to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Hey! Wake up!"&lt;br /&gt;Laptop: "Nah, no way. I hate work. I'm not going to that darn office." *Rolls about in bed*&lt;br /&gt;Me: "What? BSOD AGAIN?!"&lt;br /&gt;Laptop: "Nah, I'm not that boring. Here's something new. Don't be lazy, go read my screen."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "&lt;windowsroot&gt;\system32/hal.dll is corrupted or missing. Please reinstall a copy of the above file.".................*Speechless*............................What the hell is this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then hurriedly turned the house upside down to find the system recovery disk, which I finally found after turning the entire room and kitchen area inside out. It was sitting in a box by the couch all the while, probably laughing at how I couldn't find it. Apparently, the disk likes to engage in some hide and seek fun. And yes, I don't fancy it anymore. Not now, anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the disk and zero instructions, it's not like I can do anything because I know nothing about first aid (Oh I mean rescue). Next up, I went googling on my other half's laptop (Thank God he fixed up his screen. About a month back, his screen looks the same, on and off.) Google, as usual, did his homework and got me heaps of links. Common problem, I reckon. But nothing seemed to help. Even Microsoft's site which specifically listed what to do if your hal.dll file is missing. Then I was real lucky and chanced upon this random link recommended in the forum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a trickster my laptop is! Though its the hal.dll file that is missing, that wasn't the problem for me! It was the boot.ini! (Don't worry if you don't understand a thing here, neither do I.) So the link led me to the Microsoft site which listed what to do when you are having problems with your boot.ini. All it took was some typing and bravo! My laptop started up again! Yay for me! Sobs for the laptop of course! ;p&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This saved my world yesterday:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://support.microsoft.com/default.aspx?scid=kb;en-us;330184"&gt;http://support.microsoft.com/default.aspx?scid=kb;en-us;330184&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so my laptop goes: "Darn. I'm alive and back at work again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either ways, I'm relieved. My paper is due tomorrow and well, I'm not even a quarter way through. I'm worried but at least my laptop has started up. I reckon I definitely need God's blessings to last through today. :) I need buckets of determination, truckloads of wisdom and definitely a working laptop.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-1508507261135069466?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/1508507261135069466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=1508507261135069466' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/1508507261135069466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/1508507261135069466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2007/03/laptop-hates-school.html' title='Laptop hates work.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-116416737272355438</id><published>2006-11-22T11:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-22T11:51:00.766+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Which means..</title><content type='html'>Since he is a boston terrier pup, it means I currently have&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. 4 bunnies&lt;br /&gt;2. 2 guinea pigs &lt;br /&gt;3. boston terrier pup and&lt;br /&gt;4. a golden retriever who's waiting for us to pick her up when we return home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want a zoo!!!!!!! Full of bunnies, pigs and pups!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-116416737272355438?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/116416737272355438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=116416737272355438' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/116416737272355438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/116416737272355438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2006/11/which-means.html' title='Which means..'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-116416690363564337</id><published>2006-11-22T11:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-22T11:41:43.636+08:00</updated><title type='text'>His.</title><content type='html'>&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#DDDDDD" align=center&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;b&gt;You Are a Boston Terrier Puppy&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatbreedofpuppyareyouquiz/boston-terrier-puppy.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aggressive, wild, and rambunctious.&lt;br /&gt;Deep down, you're just a cuddle monster.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatbreedofpuppyareyouquiz/"&gt;What Breed of Puppy Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-116416690363564337?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/116416690363564337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=116416690363564337' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/116416690363564337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/116416690363564337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2006/11/his_22.html' title='His.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-116416663830635022</id><published>2006-11-22T11:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-22T11:37:18.306+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I knew it!</title><content type='html'>&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#999999" align=center&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;b&gt;Your Ideal Pet is a Little Dog&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#CCCCCC"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatsyouridealpetquiz/little-dog.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're both high strung, hyper, and cute.&lt;br /&gt;You're one of the few people who can get away with carrying your little dog in a little bag.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatsyouridealpetquiz/"&gt;What's Your Ideal Pet?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-116416663830635022?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/116416663830635022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=116416663830635022' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/116416663830635022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/116416663830635022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2006/11/i-knew-it.html' title='I knew it!'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-116339372515650903</id><published>2006-11-13T12:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T14:27:15.776+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The kind of relationship I have.</title><content type='html'>Part 1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hey, I called you 4 times just now but it just couldn't get through. &lt;br /&gt;AA: Huh, really........that's strange. It went staight to the voicemail?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yea, were you on the phone? It always doesn't get through if we are on the line.&lt;br /&gt;AA: No, I wasn't. &lt;br /&gt;Me: Hmmmm, now that's strange.&lt;br /&gt;AA: Anyway, what did you want to tell me?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Can't remember la, that was so long ago.&lt;br /&gt;AA: Hahahahahhahahahaa.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Ooi, why you laugh at me? Not my fault that I couldn't get through right? &lt;br /&gt;AA: Hahahaa, you should have written it down.&lt;br /&gt;Me: You think I'm very free ah?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Part 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AA: I've something to tell you later. Remind me.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Ok, give me a clue, so that I can hint you if you forget later. &lt;br /&gt;AA: Ok, 'irritated with studying'.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Erm, okay, person or thing?&lt;br /&gt;AA: Person.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Erm, okay..name starts with?&lt;br /&gt;AA: The person who lent me the book.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh, that girl. Maybe she likes you!&lt;br /&gt;AA: Don't be stupid.&lt;br /&gt;Me: No! You know, sweet innocent loves start from lending or borrowing a book! &lt;br /&gt;AA: Hahahaha.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hmmmm, I think you should move from the com lab to the library, even more romantic. &lt;br /&gt;AA: *Laughs at how silly I am* No!&lt;br /&gt;Me: Okay la, get back to your revision with your girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;AA: Don't be crazy.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Tata!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I reckon my other half thinks he has a silly, stupid, crazy girlfriend (how very complimenting hmmm) hahahahaa who really should be doing her own revision now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, back to the case study. Ciao!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S Pardon me for the slight Singaporean-styled narration.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-116339372515650903?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/116339372515650903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=116339372515650903' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/116339372515650903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/116339372515650903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2006/11/kind-of-relationship-i-have.html' title='The kind of relationship I have.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-116339247643854261</id><published>2006-11-13T11:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T12:44:27.930+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Personality test.</title><content type='html'>Not too long back, I took the same personality test that I had undertaken while I was in college. Of course, unlike the professional process in college, the recent one was a plain computer-generated quiz (Honestly, I'm clueless if it's accurate). Regardless, I got the exact same results. Does that mean I haven't changed very much since I was 17? Maybe. No matter how hard I try to change myself a little here and there in hope to become stronger, it seems that I'm still the same old me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm highly irrational and I'm extreme. I'm either very sensitive or cold-bloodedly insensitive. I either care a hell lot, or am absolutely nonchalent and don't give a darn. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a long break, I find myself back here: friendship issues. How childlike can I get, I think to myself. Adults are cooler than this, aren't they? Or at least they seem more adapted. I'm just childishly, foolishly upset over little disappointments. I guess these days, at my ripe quarter-of-a-century age, many just care about their relationships and don't really get their hearts broken over friends, right? Or is this a senseless unrealistic assumption? Then this will serve to be a consolation: maybe I'm not the only one. Maybe this just indicates that I'm still alive and breathing and am courageous enough to throw my heart out to people out there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I aspire to be a cooler grown-up, who doesn't get upset by the million specks of nonsense that goes around this warped world. That way, I get to appear to be an adult and possibly pass off as one *Winks!*.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and to have two different silly things upsetting me on consecutive days = I need alot more sugar to make myself think happy thoughts! Double Chocolate ice-cream, here I come!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-116339247643854261?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/116339247643854261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=116339247643854261' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/116339247643854261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/116339247643854261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2006/11/personality-test.html' title='Personality test.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-116330681152687167</id><published>2006-11-12T12:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T08:17:07.703+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Still caring too much.</title><content type='html'>I'm one of those silly donuts who care too much, and think too much about friendships and friends, some who probably don't care too much anyway. As we grow up, some friendships become priceless and mean the world, while some just slide so faraway and become naught.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've made some new friends, some whom I've come to adore very much. This ain't a good thing sometimes because that means what they do and how they are means alot to me and actually impacts how I'm feeling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But oh well, these don't really change true friendships. The liking still stays as peachy and radiant, it just makes one feel a tad more vulnerable and sometimes a little sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, I'm back to being cheery now after listening to my current favourite song. You know there's this thing called the radioblog? You can have your own player with a hand-picked list of songs on the blog. If I'm not lazy, I may put it up here! Oh, but I'm lazy 24/7 yea? Hahaha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-116330681152687167?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/116330681152687167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=116330681152687167' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/116330681152687167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/116330681152687167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2006/11/still-caring-too-much.html' title='Still caring too much.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-116073051442453866</id><published>2006-10-13T17:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-13T17:08:34.426+08:00</updated><title type='text'>R.I.P</title><content type='html'>Nothing can revive my dearest laptop. All I see are black screens. I thought the blue screen of death is severe, but black screen with just a blinking cursor? That's suicide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's bow our heads in a moment of silence, as we moan the loss of my laptop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plead: I can't even reformat. The 2nd disc ain't working. HELPPPP!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-116073051442453866?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/116073051442453866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=116073051442453866' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/116073051442453866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/116073051442453866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2006/10/rip.html' title='R.I.P'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-116006427658983127</id><published>2006-10-05T23:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-13T17:01:21.786+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A stopped heart</title><content type='html'>At about 3pm this afternoon, my laptop started throwing odd tantrums. Just before you think I was being a mean donkey overworking my slave, no! I wasn't overkilling it by running all my giant monster programs at a go. In fact, it was just our usual anime marathon, period. Nothing more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weird blue screens kept jumping at us and it kept restarting. But nothing, NOTHING was going to stop me from watching the animes after the serious bouts of (yes, even now) migraine that I have suffered from for 3 whole days (and possibly more to come). And so, I allowed the strange symptoms to continue. Restart, blue screen, restart, and basically this process was on repeat mode. Then suddenly, it DIED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Windows does NOT start up. The only clue was 'Windows XP could not start because the following file is missing or corrupt: \WINDOWS\SYSTEM32\CONFIG\SYSTEM'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, I was worried but my migraine kept me from showing any forms of anxiety. In fact, I fell asleep while my other half restarted the laptop a number of times just to see if it's just a tantrum that spun out of control for a moment. But when I woke up at about 5pm, I realised it had really died, and that blue screen was a really famous nemesis called 'blue screen of death'. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a broken heart and absolute persistence, I hung in there till 2am with my trusty companion (Not my other half, I'm talking about the migraine) and FINALLY got it fixed up without losing a single file or document! *Grins in delight!* Laptop, please don't give me another heart attack. I can't live without you! *Muack Muack!*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the miracle saver!! http://www.tek-tips.com/faqs.cfm?fid=5362&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-116006427658983127?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/116006427658983127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=116006427658983127' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/116006427658983127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/116006427658983127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2006/10/stopped-heart.html' title='A stopped heart'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-115884538453002906</id><published>2006-09-21T21:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-22T12:30:37.613+08:00</updated><title type='text'>a perfect night here.</title><content type='html'>a perfect night here compromises of:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. chilly night in spring&lt;br /&gt;2. hot bath in lavender bath salt&lt;br /&gt;3. a partner that makes you laugh by singing stupid horridly translated songs&lt;br /&gt;4. 4 bunnies, one in which is your make-shift puppy (he can't woof woof though) &lt;br /&gt;5. kfc family feast (10 piece chicken, 1 large mash potato, 1 large fries with chicken salt, 4 small coleslaw, 1 bottle of coke HEH)&lt;br /&gt;6. sitcoms/movie/anime marathon while warmly cuddled under the quilt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;some of the above can be substituted, but some...................can't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-115884538453002906?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/115884538453002906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=115884538453002906' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/115884538453002906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/115884538453002906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2006/09/perfect-night-here.html' title='a perfect night here.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-115883535716409888</id><published>2006-09-21T18:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T18:42:37.506+08:00</updated><title type='text'>just for tonight.</title><content type='html'>i must have gotten my fiery temper from the genes, i'm quick-tempered. oh, and short-tempered too. a stubborn arse with little patience. actually, i'm not sure if you know this, but my anger transforms into a spiral of laughter really easily too, if you only just try. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if you ever fight with me (big quarrel, fist fight, petty tiffs, stupid squabbles whatever), all you have to do is tickle me, give me a hug and whisper rosy happy things into my ear and i'll probably giggle and return you the tickles ten-fold cheerily. in a blink, all the gloom will go away and the yellow sun floats back into the skies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm that simple. i really snap out of anger that easily. sometimes, in anger, i secretly have odd little wishes, like wanting you to nudge my head and laugh at how silly i am, to get angry over this, &lt;i&gt;this&lt;/i&gt;, and that. just like a red rose acting fierce and tough with all the little thorns and pricks. is this my wall of defence? maybe. or maybe it's my way of sending you little messages. 'are you there? have you forgotten about me? hello hello?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when i cry (so what if it's just 5 minutes? or 3?), my world collapses too, into a muddy football pitch and the thunder roars in constant thumps. i know i'm strong in mind and in soul, but sometimes, i just want you to remember that in tantrums, i'm a little girl, like every other girl in this big big world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-115883535716409888?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/115883535716409888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=115883535716409888' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/115883535716409888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/115883535716409888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2006/09/just-for-tonight.html' title='just for tonight.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-115874002070694962</id><published>2006-09-20T16:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T16:13:40.723+08:00</updated><title type='text'>hoppo says 'NOW'</title><content type='html'>i haven't been blogging for awhile and dearest hoppo gave me an &lt;i&gt;extremely&lt;/i&gt; kind reminder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hoppo: you haven't been blogging for awhile&lt;br /&gt;me: ya hehehehehhhehee&lt;br /&gt;hoppo: go blog&lt;br /&gt;me: k k i will&lt;br /&gt;hoppo: NOW&lt;br /&gt;me: hehehehehhehehehe i will blog SOON&lt;br /&gt;hoppo: liar!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and thus, here i am, dropping a little blog entry to appease my dearest friend who has a broken back (without a mountain, or so she says). poor thing, she has been having strange ailments of all sorts lately: insomnia, a numb last finger and a broken back! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;regardless, hehehhehhe she's still the spicy hot chick hahhahaa, with heaps of funny brain juice. take care yeah? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cheers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-115874002070694962?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/115874002070694962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=115874002070694962' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/115874002070694962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/115874002070694962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2006/09/hoppo-says-now.html' title='hoppo says &apos;NOW&apos;'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-115000802813648698</id><published>2006-06-11T14:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-11T15:55:38.336+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Expect some changes.</title><content type='html'>In life, I hope to accept that change is constant, and adapt to changes more maturely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like to say a little less, and learn to appreciate the silence. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope not to judge or criticise, I hope to see the world and its people with an open heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope to live my life to the fullest in an impromptu manner for the next 1 year. Afterthat, I will like to take an attempt at growing up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, some things are better left unsaid. Therefore, I will like to learn to be a little reserved, probably think before I speak, and not put a voice to every thought in my head. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall allocate more time to myself. I will like to think that at times, being alone can be extremely therapeutic and comforting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so rooted in this current personality mould, so I know the above wouldn't come by easily. But well, at least I'm giving them some thoughts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-115000802813648698?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/115000802813648698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=115000802813648698' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/115000802813648698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/115000802813648698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2006/06/expect-some-changes.html' title='Expect some changes.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-114957656531241270</id><published>2006-06-06T14:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-06T15:07:37.186+08:00</updated><title type='text'>This much of it is true.</title><content type='html'>Yes, I'd been attracted to a couple of split personalities. But they always belong to the popular crowd, seeming all flamboyant, loud and fiery, but are in reality the sweetest, rather reserved, most grounded people on earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I feel most alive when things are straight-forward, and when I'm told that I'm loved. But what makes me hop and pounce about are yummy unexpected surprises and heaps of cuddly teddy bear hugs and 'I love you's! To be appreciated and knowing that I'm appreciated by my loved ones bring me the greatest contentment. I don't believe in keeping things from my loved ones, I hate it when things are made complicated, everything should be kept simple, just as it was supposed to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I would be forced to break up with someone whom I don't love anymore I reckon. Otherwise, I usually give second chances (heaps of them) and hope that things change for the better. It's somewhat true that I would be unable to put up with someone who's difficult to please though. Doesn't make sense if you have to constantly please someone just to sustain the relationship. Where's the love!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My ideal relationship is fun, passionate, and yeah, comforting i guess. :) There has to be warmth, love and most importantly, honesty, sincerity, peace, fun, laughter and God. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly, I've cheated before. I regret that very much, so I would like to think that I will never do that again, ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marriage? Actually, I love and embrace the idea of settling down with The One. Having our own dream apartment, one or two lovely puppies, many pigs and a few bunnies. Kids? Probably, but I've a serious and uncontrollable phobia of childbirth and being a mother. However, at this point in time, yes I'm afraid of marriage! I reckon I'm still a child, and I think only adults have the right to contemplate and consider marriage. Therefore, I'll only be ready when I think I have grown beyond the child in me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this moment, I think of love as something I already have in my life. I used to do everything for love, and I probably will still do anything for love. Won't fall for it easily? On the contrary, I've always fallen in love easily, at the snap of a finger, unknowingly, unexpectedly. And I'm happy this way, because love itself is meant to be unexplainable and an endless mystery.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-114957656531241270?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/114957656531241270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=114957656531241270' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/114957656531241270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/114957656531241270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2006/06/this-much-of-it-is-true.html' title='This much of it is true.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-114957483760200983</id><published>2006-06-06T14:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-06T14:20:37.613+08:00</updated><title type='text'>how much of this is true?</title><content type='html'>&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEE9E9" align=center&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Keys to Your Heart&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFAFA"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/keystoyourheartquiz/heart.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are attracted to those who have a split personality - cold as ice on the outside but hot as fire in the heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In love, you feel the most alive when things are straight-forward, and you're told that you're loved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'd like to your lover to think you are loyal and faithful... that you'll never change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You would be forced to break up with someone who was emotional, moody, and difficult to please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your ideal relationship is comforting. You crave a relationship where you always feel warmth and love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You think of marriage as something that will confine you. You are afraid of marriage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this moment, you think of love as something you thirst for. You'll do anything for love, but you won't fall for it easily.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/keystoyourheartquiz/"&gt;What Are The Keys To Your Heart?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-114957483760200983?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/114957483760200983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=114957483760200983' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/114957483760200983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/114957483760200983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2006/06/how-much-of-this-is-true.html' title='how much of this is true?'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-114851502641528307</id><published>2006-05-25T07:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-25T07:58:47.350+08:00</updated><title type='text'>lucky no.5</title><content type='html'>i know it sounds cheesy, but i just have to say this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm the most most most most most fortunate person in this world. :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there are heaps more to say, but i'm left with eight minutes to make it for a 9.30 a.m appointment. so, later!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-114851502641528307?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/114851502641528307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=114851502641528307' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/114851502641528307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/114851502641528307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2006/05/lucky-no5.html' title='lucky no.5'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113888275127527373</id><published>2006-02-02T20:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T20:19:11.286+08:00</updated><title type='text'>waves.</title><content type='html'>the sandcastle is washed away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113888275127527373?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113888275127527373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113888275127527373' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113888275127527373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113888275127527373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2006/02/waves.html' title='waves.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113802904891917760</id><published>2006-01-23T22:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-23T23:10:48.993+08:00</updated><title type='text'>somebody.</title><content type='html'>Somebody&lt;br /&gt;Depeche Mode &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want somebody to share&lt;br /&gt;Share the rest of my life&lt;br /&gt;Share my innermost thoughts&lt;br /&gt;Know my intimate details&lt;br /&gt;Someone who'll stand by my side&lt;br /&gt;And give me support&lt;br /&gt;And in return&lt;br /&gt;She'll get my support&lt;br /&gt;She will listen to me &lt;br /&gt;When I want to speak&lt;br /&gt;About the world we live in&lt;br /&gt;And life in general&lt;br /&gt;Though my views may be wrong&lt;br /&gt;They may even be perverted&lt;br /&gt;She'll hear me out&lt;br /&gt;And won't easily be converted&lt;br /&gt;To my way of thinking &lt;br /&gt;In fact she'll often disagree&lt;br /&gt;But at the end of it all&lt;br /&gt;She will understand me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want somebody who cares&lt;br /&gt;For me passionately&lt;br /&gt;With every thought and&lt;br /&gt;With every breath&lt;br /&gt;Someone who'll help me see things &lt;br /&gt;In a different light&lt;br /&gt;All the things I detest&lt;br /&gt;I will almost like &lt;br /&gt;I don't want to be tied&lt;br /&gt;To anyone's strings&lt;br /&gt;I'm carefully trying to steer clear of&lt;br /&gt;Those things&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when I'm asleep&lt;br /&gt;I want somebody&lt;br /&gt;Who will put their arms around me &lt;br /&gt;And kiss me tenderly&lt;br /&gt;Though things like this&lt;br /&gt;Make me sick&lt;br /&gt;In a case like this &lt;br /&gt;I'll get away with it&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113802904891917760?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113802904891917760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113802904891917760' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113802904891917760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113802904891917760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2006/01/somebody.html' title='somebody.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113765543049192811</id><published>2006-01-19T15:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-19T15:23:50.503+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the 19th day.</title><content type='html'>19 days of january have come and gone by. this year is running on such a quick rhythm, i am hardly keeping up. if 2006 is a treadmill, i have long lost that pace and have fallen flat on my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;someone please tune that treadmill to a decent speed. now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113765543049192811?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113765543049192811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113765543049192811' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113765543049192811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113765543049192811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2006/01/19th-day.html' title='the 19th day.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113674228683635051</id><published>2006-01-09T01:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-09T01:57:46.416+08:00</updated><title type='text'>god, rain or shine.</title><content type='html'>everything gets back on track once i get my focus fixed up. whenever i stray away from God, my life crumbles and like a messed puzzle, i struggle endlessly to piece my broken self back together by my own strength, and not His. my own strength is like that uhu glue that cannot even keep my favorite sandals together, while God is the self-sacrificing father who carries me on His back when i have lost all strength to take even one more step.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for close to two weeks, i tried to conquer the world on my own. i was battered, bruised and defeated. emotions can cause an overkill, adoration can tear you away from happiness, isolation becomes warmer than a human touch and emptiness can seem the safest place on earth. without God's peace and counsel, life is colorless and withered. yet that gray world of no colors can seem so low, till you want to stay put there forever. it is rockbottom, they say. where else can you go? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, now that i have regained my sight, and my eyes are tightly fixed on Him above. i know that wherever i am, i have the right to feel peace in my heart and joy. plus, i have the right to get back on my feet and climb happily up the ladder to a happier place, and a happier me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and so, the gloom is over, finally found the strength to tell Him that i am sorry, to have taken Him for granted, even if it is just for two weeks. in gladness and thanksgiving, i know i am forgiven, through His ever amazing grace. being caught up in a bustling city lifestyle is no excuse. a sweet friend once told me: life is like a piece of paper. draw a vertical margin on the paper. and keep that only for god.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if i could do that when i was a nine-year-old school kid, and never scribbled my trash into the margins. i am sure that i can learn to manage the margins of my life now. just takes some practice and self-discipline. not going to be easy, but i know god deserves my praises, time and attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;back to lighter topics, i have finally completed something that i owe for one and a half weeks. well, if this falls through, i am probably going to knock my head against the wall and whine for three days till my neighbours clobber me into concussion. god, i pray that you will grant me this opportunity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and guys, happy new year! if i have not said this to you, yet. but i guess i have not, because my new year has just begun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cheerios!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113674228683635051?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113674228683635051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113674228683635051' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113674228683635051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113674228683635051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2006/01/god-rain-or-shine.html' title='god, rain or shine.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113639306574723976</id><published>2006-01-04T22:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-05T00:53:19.110+08:00</updated><title type='text'>nursery rhyme.</title><content type='html'>i heard what you said. &lt;br /&gt;it keeps ringing in my head,&lt;br /&gt;and something tells me that i will remember,&lt;br /&gt;remember, remember.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;i will write it down somewhere, &lt;br /&gt;maybe tattoo it on my neck, &lt;br /&gt;just so that i will always remember,&lt;br /&gt;remember, remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the world is spinning.&lt;br /&gt;my head is fucking hurting.&lt;br /&gt;i can't wait for tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;when i wake, i will never remember that name. &lt;br /&gt;never, never, never remember.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113639306574723976?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113639306574723976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113639306574723976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113639306574723976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113639306574723976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2006/01/nursery-rhyme.html' title='nursery rhyme.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113587767980332225</id><published>2005-12-30T01:33:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T01:37:43.960+08:00</updated><title type='text'>darkening dark circles.</title><content type='html'>my holiday is almost coming to an end and i am still facing the same old wacky problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i had been yawning and tired since 10 p.m. and yet, i am still awake now, at 2 a.m.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what's the logic? i probably need a sweet lullaby to lure my warped and awake cells into slumber.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113587767980332225?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113587767980332225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113587767980332225' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113587767980332225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113587767980332225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/12/darkening-dark-circles.html' title='darkening dark circles.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113577224505135881</id><published>2005-12-28T20:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-28T20:19:56.016+08:00</updated><title type='text'>good riddance.</title><content type='html'>the garden of roses you gave last christmas bloomed into a house of sharp thorns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ain't it funny to do a spring-clean and end up stuffing yourself into the trash bag, rolling yourself into the chute? but well, that happens.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113577224505135881?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113577224505135881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113577224505135881' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113577224505135881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113577224505135881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/12/good-riddance.html' title='good riddance.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113530364946830552</id><published>2005-12-23T10:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-23T10:17:40.730+08:00</updated><title type='text'>what's in an expiry date?</title><content type='html'>munching happily on a hongkong's ever renowned 'wife biscuit' specially flown in by my aunt, i find myself pausing for a moment now amidst the chewing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;below states what's printed on the exquisite golden-rimmed packaging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;best before:&lt;br /&gt;dd/mm/yy&lt;br /&gt;$ 4.50&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now tell me, what's in an expiry date?&lt;br /&gt;price?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113530364946830552?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113530364946830552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113530364946830552' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113530364946830552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113530364946830552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/12/whats-in-expiry-date.html' title='what&apos;s in an expiry date?'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113509574343975951</id><published>2005-12-21T00:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-21T00:22:23.453+08:00</updated><title type='text'>remembering his name.</title><content type='html'>they remember his name. he slips in with such ease, like the way i fit into the crowd. you are family now, my love. i know it when they call you by your name.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113509574343975951?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113509574343975951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113509574343975951' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113509574343975951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113509574343975951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/12/remembering-his-name.html' title='remembering his name.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113501490038576408</id><published>2005-12-20T01:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-20T01:55:00.386+08:00</updated><title type='text'>question and answer.</title><content type='html'>'why is it only now that i find out about this?', i keep asking myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why not earlier? things could have been vastly different.&lt;br /&gt;for good or bad, i do not know. by a typical human's perceptions, it would have been many tonnes easier. it saves time and money, and we can move on to living our dreams sooner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but, God, you allow this to happen. so needless to say, there is a purpose behind this. so let me move on from this and God, lead me to the right path that i should take, please. i am really rather tired from thinking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113501490038576408?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113501490038576408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113501490038576408' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113501490038576408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113501490038576408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/12/question-and-answer.html' title='question and answer.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113501437856902019</id><published>2005-12-20T01:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-20T08:05:00.750+08:00</updated><title type='text'>decision jury.</title><content type='html'>the left fights the right, while the right kicks back with no reserve. my head is getting dizzy from the constant bickering arguments and debates. i have heard enough reasons, excuses, fears, concerns, practical and impractical options. all coming from me, myself and i am about to punch myself in the face, the decision jury in my head is fighting its guts inside out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;do i list the pros and cons, do some math and conclude?&lt;br /&gt;do i follow what makes me happy?&lt;br /&gt;do i take the 99.9% safe and predictable path?&lt;br /&gt;do i take a vote and just do a count?&lt;br /&gt;i know i should simply follow God. i am ignorant, while He is my wise counsellor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, guide me? well, i know God is already guiding me. i am just not focusing enough to see. i am misplaced by personal fears, and earthly worries. trust, have faith, pray. God will always give me the best. all i have to do is to open my arms and receive. if i do not even dare to walk through this opened door, how do i receive His blessings?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all these are easy to say, yet hard to place into practice. but i hope i will be able to place my life in His hands, and stop fighting to take control. sometimes, all i have to do is follow Him. oh God, let me see, and i will surely follow after you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113501437856902019?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113501437856902019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113501437856902019' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113501437856902019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113501437856902019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/12/decision-jury.html' title='decision jury.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113501334287402380</id><published>2005-12-20T01:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-20T01:30:33.740+08:00</updated><title type='text'>get well soon.</title><content type='html'>my heels makes a visit to the doctor after spending barely ninety minutes at work. the only good out of this is the natural slumping into bed after the doses of medicines. i do not usually sleep well, but i slept for four straight hours earlier. my body must have really needed this rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am spinning my magic wand a million rounds, let the medicines get my health back in order. my skin is not pale, but my body is certainly not in tip top condition. the doctor is expecting to see me in a week's time for a review, and i am hesistant about it. if my stomach's condition does not improve by then, i will be sent for a scan. and so, i shall spin my wand many times more, churning words into prayers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;stomach, get well soon. take care.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113501334287402380?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113501334287402380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113501334287402380' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113501334287402380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113501334287402380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/12/get-well-soon.html' title='get well soon.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113410638830256477</id><published>2005-12-05T23:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-11T23:41:31.993+08:00</updated><title type='text'>dad the monkey.</title><content type='html'>i watch suspiciously as dad walks in cheekily through that door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'who are they? your friends?' dad asks mum, as he takes a glance at the four formally-dressed vietnamese ladies seated elegantly at our green couch, along with a finger-pointing gesture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mum, totally wide-eyed, returns dad with a disapproving look, then dad bursts out laughing as his friends look at him, all stunned in bewilderment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;too often, i wonder when my dad will grow up. &lt;br /&gt;but i guess, never.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113410638830256477?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113410638830256477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113410638830256477' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113410638830256477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113410638830256477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/12/dad-monkey.html' title='dad the monkey.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113356816124842987</id><published>2005-12-03T01:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T22:37:15.983+08:00</updated><title type='text'>late night friday.</title><content type='html'>crippled all week thanks to the compulsory early nights and premature rude awakenings, i have finally arrived at my favorite day of the week, friday. after being whiney and grumbling for five consecutive nights about having to sleep early to get up early, i can finally dump that early bird into the bin with a smirk. it is such joy to be happily typing away at two a.m, with no worries about waking up the next morning with puffy eyes, looking like an authentic furry china panda. it is the weekend for goodness sake, i can look like a panda/koala/whatever if i want to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oddly, i am awake not because i want to surf the internet or to chat. neither is it the need to blog, before my brain's hard disk crashes, and please do not even think that it is insomnia. i am dead tired at this moment, and my eyes are giving way. but i insist on sleeping late/later because it is friday! this calls for a celebration. and so, here i am, scribbling my thoughts by typing furiously, as i struggle to keep my heavy eyes open. weekends are precious, i will simply refuse to give the night away to sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113356816124842987?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113356816124842987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113356816124842987' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113356816124842987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113356816124842987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/12/late-night-friday.html' title='late night friday.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113284645524222675</id><published>2005-11-24T23:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-24T23:45:03.496+08:00</updated><title type='text'>ballooning away.</title><content type='html'>bottling up these days, i find myself ballooning away. i have turned silent, and my smiles are becoming few. i cannot say that i am not happy, that would be a lie. but i know something is odd about myself. something is creeping up my back. it is either the boredom that is driving me paranoid, or fear that is making me blow through the roof.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i feel i am on the outside of the glass, looking into your world. i can see everything, but i feel left out. i feel very much alone. i am the spectator, i do not live the same life. i feel isolated, and i do not know to rejoice or to grieve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;should i join the school of fish, and swim in the packed polluted ocean?&lt;br /&gt;or should i continue living the contented fairytale life in my fish tank?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;of course everyone will label me an ignorant idealistic child. but i guess, all i wanted was to dream, and live a dream. maybe all i wanted, was a fish tank as huge as the seas, clean and free for all to swim happily ever after. or maybe i am a tiny fish in the big blue ocean with a calling, to stand up for a pollution-free ocean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;blop, blop. bubble. till i find my answer, i shall continue swimming.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113284645524222675?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113284645524222675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113284645524222675' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113284645524222675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113284645524222675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/11/ballooning-away.html' title='ballooning away.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113094708187722569</id><published>2005-11-02T23:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-03T00:11:12.870+08:00</updated><title type='text'>kitchen store.</title><content type='html'>mum picks up the phone, obviously occupied with her telly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ma, do we have any lettuce at home?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lettuce? what is lettuce?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lettuce? the one the pigs always eat, that is lettuce. argh, nevermind. can you see if we have potatoes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;alright, i will check. &lt;i&gt;(fumbling noises.)&lt;/i&gt; ya, we have potatoes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay, how many?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one? argh. nevermind, forget about it. do we have any food at home at all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ya, we have. onions. we have two onions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;silence.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113094708187722569?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113094708187722569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113094708187722569' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113094708187722569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113094708187722569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/11/kitchen-store.html' title='kitchen store.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113090660120720123</id><published>2005-11-02T12:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-02T12:43:21.206+08:00</updated><title type='text'>drip drip drenched.</title><content type='html'>i am all soaked in His blessings!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113090660120720123?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113090660120720123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113090660120720123' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113090660120720123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113090660120720123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/11/drip-drip-drenched.html' title='drip drip drenched.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113090647573903213</id><published>2005-11-02T11:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-02T12:41:15.806+08:00</updated><title type='text'>clover shower.</title><content type='html'>prayers are always answered in God's own manner. whatever the outcome, we rest assured that it is always with the best intentions He has for us. in this walk of life, faith in Him is essential.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113090647573903213?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113090647573903213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113090647573903213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113090647573903213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113090647573903213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/11/clover-shower.html' title='clover shower.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113055903789088686</id><published>2005-10-29T11:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-29T12:10:37.963+08:00</updated><title type='text'>cheer me up sunflowers.</title><content type='html'>what makes your cheerless glum days slightly more bearable? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sunflowers? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;chocolates? or comedies?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;chocolate ice-cream usually comes to my rescue, but it just seems insufficient today. and what is worrying, is that i am indifferent about it. i do not even care to find the remedy. why bother? since i am expecting tomorrow to be a rerun of today. a pout, and many frowns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nothing much is happening. i must have gotten off the wrong side of bed again this morning. else, it must be age catching up on me, am i that old? not really, i speak like i am a century-old antique sometimes. someone, please remind me that i am just twenty-four. in any case, i refuse to think that someone's actions had caused me to stop smiling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, i am already feeling much comforted after writing this chunk of words. writing always calm my churning emotions and get me hushed. ta da, maybe the remedy has found its way to me afterall. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;take care guys, enjoy the weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113055903789088686?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113055903789088686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113055903789088686' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113055903789088686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113055903789088686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/10/cheer-me-up-sunflowers.html' title='cheer me up sunflowers.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113043011941544512</id><published>2005-10-28T12:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-28T00:30:47.590+08:00</updated><title type='text'>internet station.</title><content type='html'>the house's wireless is down and the not-too-long cable has not been too helpful. being seated next to my lovely pet pigs can be a bad choice, when their constant napping stunts and food munches make me hungry and sleepy all at the same time. so now i know where the lazy bugs are coming from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cookie is in slumber, while cracker is actively trying to up a dress size. me? i shall just continue enjoying my dosage of the internet before bedtime, and listen to the therapeutic falling rain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113043011941544512?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113043011941544512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113043011941544512' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113043011941544512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113043011941544512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/10/internet-station.html' title='internet station.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113042814487083662</id><published>2005-10-27T23:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-27T23:51:21.730+08:00</updated><title type='text'>occupied lungs.</title><content type='html'>still coughing, with no consciousness of how loud i can get. i wake up every morning, with both my dad and mum nagging me to make a trip to the doctor. must i? i do not like the smell of clinics. it makes me feel bleached.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the bottle of medicine had been consumed by my reluctant obedience, yet the cough just gets more stubborn. i have gotten the second bottle today. perhaps the cough will soon get sick of me and depart. i hope it is soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i should turn in early tonight, the weather is perfect. i love rainy nights, cuddle cuddle.&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113042814487083662?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113042814487083662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113042814487083662' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113042814487083662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113042814487083662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/10/occupied-lungs.html' title='occupied lungs.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-113043101080117956</id><published>2005-10-25T21:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-28T00:36:50.803+08:00</updated><title type='text'>till then.</title><content type='html'>this is going to be kept short. i have to jot this date down because something awesome happened tonight. i am not going into details till the time is right. shhhhhhhhhhhh. sweet secret.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-113043101080117956?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/113043101080117956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=113043101080117956' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113043101080117956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/113043101080117956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/10/till-then.html' title='till then.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112930464709810926</id><published>2005-10-14T23:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-14T23:44:07.166+08:00</updated><title type='text'>pink life saver.</title><content type='html'>and so the 14th is a much better day. the downpour has subsided and the sun is out in the deck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lucky day. just ten steps out, and a taxi was there to chaffeur me to my lunch. i love zero waiting time. having fast food for lunch made my day, and i celebrated by buying the cough medicine that i seriously needed. i could not sleep last night, the cough kept me awake and tossing in bed. it was hard not to wake the whole house up. i cannot believe i am paying money to torment myself. i hate medicine. i usually evade it for as long as i could, but a week of dry cough is a little too much to bear. it is like keeping a hundred feathers in your throat, teasing and tickling you constantly, giving you no peace. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, i hope the coughs will stop soon. and peeps, enjoy your weekends. night!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112930464709810926?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112930464709810926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112930464709810926' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112930464709810926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112930464709810926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/10/pink-life-saver.html' title='pink life saver.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112921905106529639</id><published>2005-10-13T23:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-14T00:03:13.213+08:00</updated><title type='text'>let go of my hand.</title><content type='html'>can i be the lonely star in the darkness of skies?&lt;br /&gt;can i have no light around me, can i hide in the darkness that you cannot see?&lt;br /&gt;can i let go of your hands?&lt;br /&gt;can i be alone? keep me in a box, and keep the lock tightly clasped.&lt;br /&gt;take the sun away, i like it bleak and dark.&lt;br /&gt;can i not care about you anymore?&lt;br /&gt;can i turn back time? can i forget, forget, forget?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112921905106529639?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112921905106529639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112921905106529639' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112921905106529639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112921905106529639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/10/let-go-of-my-hand.html' title='let go of my hand.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112921866098692148</id><published>2005-10-13T23:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-13T23:58:14.310+08:00</updated><title type='text'>sleep soundly.</title><content type='html'>can i be tired?&lt;br /&gt;if i run 5 kilometres now, will i be tired?&lt;br /&gt;can i sleep forever?&lt;br /&gt;please.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112921866098692148?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112921866098692148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112921866098692148' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112921866098692148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112921866098692148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/10/sleep-soundly.html' title='sleep soundly.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112917828462031331</id><published>2005-10-13T12:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-13T12:38:04.626+08:00</updated><title type='text'>blame it on the weather.</title><content type='html'>one of those days of blues. i am feeling grumpy, whiney, bored, frustrated, empty, rotten. and sometimes, bad days feel so much like an intentional mean prank. someone could just come up to me now and say 'you have been PUNKED.', and i would feel no slight surprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, food usually cheers me up a little. and so, i decided i needed my lunch. i had a craving for hot soupy instant noodles. perfect for the rare cooling weather that we have today. and when it comes to soup noodles, i only favor cqyd. it is always a guarantee to have the staple in the store, that is the fondly red cqyd. but guess what? i see no cqyd today! digging into the cupboard, i see no trace of cqyd and instead find two brand new packs of the tom yam noodles hollering nasty grins at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and so, i do not even get the instant noodles lunch i want. am i asking for too much? anyway, i shall either make do with the tom yam noodles, or ring kfc and have eight pieces of chicken all to myself. i need happy food.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112917828462031331?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112917828462031331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112917828462031331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112917828462031331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112917828462031331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/10/blame-it-on-weather.html' title='blame it on the weather.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112896678107113046</id><published>2005-10-13T02:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-21T17:32:43.863+08:00</updated><title type='text'>squeaking up the chimney.</title><content type='html'>i am becoming a church mouse lately. a good sign, i think. i am trying to keep off being a sunday-only christian. a scene comes to mind: 'KEEP OFF THE GRASS!', the wooden signboard screams, as you look beneath your feet; an inch away from plodding onto the field of freshly lime green grass, softly swaying in the cool breeze. next, you heave a sense of relief, phew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, time to throw in a permanent sidetrack, happy birthday blogs! witch's brew has just officially announced its one-year-old birthday! so it has been approximately a year since witch's brew, fion, starusticity and myself started this? seriously, i thought the blogs will cease to exist after two or maybe three posts. well, at least i thought mine would. but so far, we are all doing good! *applauds all* good work girls!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;though we do not see each other everyday now, but this blog will keep us connected always. remember the constant updates, i am looking forward to our blogs' 2nd birthday already! though i certainly hope time travels a little slower, i would love to have more time to enjoy the many joys of life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;before turning this computer off to catch some sleep, i shall end tonight's blogging marathon by shouting this again:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CLOVE OF BLOGS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the blogs' birth dates party list everyone needs to know!&lt;br /&gt;fion's everyday is a winding road: 12th october 2004&lt;br /&gt;witch's brew: 13th october 2004&lt;br /&gt;mine: 15th october 2004&lt;br /&gt;starusticity's free cell: 29th october 2004&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112896678107113046?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112896678107113046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112896678107113046' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112896678107113046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112896678107113046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/10/squeaking-up-chimney.html' title='squeaking up the chimney.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112914153458894139</id><published>2005-10-13T02:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-13T02:59:07.610+08:00</updated><title type='text'>bravery.</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;Be strong and courageous, because you will lead these people to inherit the land I swore to their forefathers to give them. Be strong and very courageous. Be careful to obey all the law my servant Moses gave you; do not turn from it to the right or to the left, that you may be successful wherever you go. Do not let this Book of the Law depart from your mouth; meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do everything written in it. Then you will be prosperous and successful. Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Joshua 1:6-11&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;once in awhile, i find myself digging into swampy cold mud, hoping to camouflage with the grounds. a desire to be invisible, or to simply disappear when things in life are too frustrating. human nature in times of weakness. it is always more convenient to hide, to runaway, to deny, to wallow in sadness, than to wage a war against the fears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fears could gobble you up. a height of two metres, or whatever your body mass is, fear can still eat you up like you are some tart or pie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but gladly, we may all find comfort and courage through Him. as we follow His will and plans closely, we will no longer be lost wanderers, God gives promises. let us stay very courageous and very strong as we keep our focus on Him and His words; to read, to meditate, to understand, to live, to share. everything is always easier said, than done. and so, i pray to my Lord that i will humbly follow the set of plans and will that He has worked out for me, that i will stay focused in this walk and never lose my directions, that i will read His Words and live by them. and as He walks by my side, i give thanks for His command to be brave, His constant presence and His promise of success.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112914153458894139?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112914153458894139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112914153458894139' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112914153458894139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112914153458894139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/10/bravery.html' title='bravery.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112914098985450692</id><published>2005-10-13T01:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-13T02:23:04.353+08:00</updated><title type='text'>perfect imperfection.</title><content type='html'>love is quite an amazing gift from the One above. with all honesty, i take a look in the mirror and find myself setting eyes on me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me? yes, me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the stubborn arse who sticks staunchly by her beliefs and opinions. the child who tries to act her part as a mature grown-up half the time, hoping to make all the right decisions through serious no-joke thinking, yet fails to do so each and every time. the ungentle girl who shouts freely and pouts with no reserves when things do not go her way. the clumsy clown who cannot cook to save the world. the slow tortoise who constantly battles the lack of punctuality. the inconsiderate soul who conveniently takes, and conveniently forgets to give. the quick-tempered who shuts her sense of hearing when words are not pleasing to her ears. the ill-tempered who does not remind herself that patience and understanding is lacking in her traits. the lazy couch potato who hates to lift a finger for anything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the list could go on forever. but yeah, i suppose these are sufficient to drive the point that i am far from being perfect. (oh, but just as a gentle reminder, this is not all that is of me, i do have some plus points too okay? i need this reminder, just in case it slips my mind and i end up thinking that i am some hundred per cent bad rotten apple.) yet God still loves me unconditionally, no less than the love He showers on His other children. and with this same amazing grace, He blesses me with an awesome other half.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my other half that completes me, and complements my nature. a friendship which took an unexpected (or expected?) turn, and planted a blooming, flowering tree of love. the seasons could come as the weather changes, but this tree will survive, not by us alone, but also by placing Him, the One who works miracles, in our relationship. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my loved one, thank you for everything. your constant patience, your unconditional forgiveness, your understanding, your unfailing love, your time, your considerate nature, your thoughtfulness, your selflessness, your strong faith, your good heart, your uncomparable cooking skills, your kiddish behaviors that make me laugh, your infallible optimistism. the list could continue, but i shall not let you get big-headed. keep up the good work. you can do better though, there is always room for improvements, right? thank you, really. you are a blessing God has showered on me. i am constantly grateful for your presence in my life. i love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sorry peeps, for being rather mushy and cheesy. i did not mean to put all of you through this. but i had to place all my silly nonsensical thoughts into this diary of mine. it is your privilege to be here, right? so haha, be happy about it. i love you guys too. muacks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to the One above, thank you for everything! i am forever grateful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112914098985450692?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112914098985450692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112914098985450692' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112914098985450692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112914098985450692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/10/perfect-imperfection.html' title='perfect imperfection.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112913857147568520</id><published>2005-10-13T01:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-13T01:38:02.216+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the superhero raincoat.</title><content type='html'>flooded by thoughts, i admit that i am killing myself by thinking too much. i was chatting with a close friend who casually commented that she loved to think, then in an instant, i realised that i was very much a thinker as well. in fact, i am probably full-fledged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hate to think, but yet, i cannot stop myself from thinking. thinking is what i do when what i have in my heart is insufficient for me to act by faith. therefore, i rack my head, turn it inside out, trying to be convicted, by science and what many call logic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;faith. faith is what i seek. torrential rains could pour down on me, and run water down my throat. i could choke and struggle in the floods. but i shall not give up seeking Him, and never will i let go of my faith in Him. my only chance of survival, is through faith in the Living God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that same close friend once said, to cling on tightly to Him. and indeed, that is what we should be doing. in all that we do, cling on tightly to Him, and we will never sway and we need never worry. He is the counsellor and our guidance. cling on to Him and we will never lose our way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God is amazing. even in times of weakness, i will keep my eyes on Him, and seek Him in all that i do. and in times of good, i will always give thanks. His blessings are numerous. they are probably coming in constantly, His plans for us are perfect in every way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thank you dear almighty Lord, for all the love and grace, for all the doors You had opened, for Your constant protection and companionship, and for Your eternal unconditional love. thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112913857147568520?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112913857147568520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112913857147568520' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112913857147568520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112913857147568520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/10/superhero-raincoat.html' title='the superhero raincoat.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112843791239309760</id><published>2005-10-04T22:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-13T03:00:30.266+08:00</updated><title type='text'>consumed by imagination.</title><content type='html'>since two nights back, i was stabbed by daggers of odd thoughts, about another time, another place. i kept silent, hoping i could hide that pain. will anyone see me bleeding?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i was not there, but i imagine being there. like an invisible body, there to watch, to observe. i feel strange, i feel i am there just to inflict pain on myself. i am attacked. why do i see things i do not wish to see? why am i imagining scenes i was not involved in? past of other people, past which no longer matters. it came from nowhere. i went downhill myself, who led me there? i suppose no one. but i am bleeding profusing from such scenes that come into my head as i shut my eyes. i fight to keep my eyes open, i am thinking too much. only the present matters. i am starting to find it hard to breathe in the room of usually soothing blue hues. i need to get back to reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as the gloom draws nearer, my other half holds onto my shivering hands. i was about to stray to the other side. just a mm away, yet he brings me back to the world of truth, where the past does not matter, where the past has already reached its end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i thank God for being the greatest Authority. however dark the night is, the light is always there. just open your eyes, and you will find the shine guiding you through. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Psalm 119:105 Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112843791239309760?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112843791239309760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112843791239309760' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112843791239309760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112843791239309760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/10/consumed-by-imagination.html' title='consumed by imagination.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112836166911411976</id><published>2005-10-04T00:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-13T03:00:04.313+08:00</updated><title type='text'>familiar merry-go-round.</title><content type='html'>going in circles must be one of my favorite pastimes. since ten years of age which i consider a safe estimate, i have been making the same old plans and resolutions. from the boring typical resolutions such as to shed my laziness for diligence, to shower my parents with more love and courtesy, to the adulthood sort of resolutions such as to be a wiser person capable of reaching a decision on my own, to the shallow barbie class of resolution of sticking to a moderate diet et cetera. the list could hit a hundred, maybe even more, yet i am perpetually side-tracked from achieving them. my feet just cannot keep on the right path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;peculiar sight. i am now much older, but not much wiser. efficiency level of my so-called resolutions is still a guaranteed absolute zero. oh someone, please help!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lately, i have been wrecking my head to sort some crossroad issues. the level of understanding that i have of myself is totally insufficient for me to conclude what i should do or rather, what i want to do. the battle continues between my indecisive brain cells, while i quietly seek peace by escaping. just not think abt it anymore, i thought to myself. but of course, that would also mean, my life will come to a halt. i will not progress. i will just sit here, let gleaming eight-shiny-legged spiders plant their cobweb roots in me, nurture their generations as i turn gray. this is insane, i still behave like a toddler, incapable of self-survival. i need to reach another level of independence. it is not about living alone for years abroad, it is not about being responsible for your own laundry or meals. it is about knowing the direction in life you want to take, and getting there. i need to learn a new skill, so now, what can get me started on growing up? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now that brings me back into my cute ol' familiar round circle, i am plodding back into the field of planning once again. it is nothing more than a set of guides or rules that one sets, hoping it will bring us all somewhere we want to be, or simply makes us a theoretically improved person. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if my guts are not consumed by laziness, my next entry will be about plans or a self-written list of guides or rules. let's see if self-improvement blog entries help organize my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;meanwhile, i am off to bed. good night folks, i am off to claim the lucky draw i have won: 8 hours of sleep. sweet dreams.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112836166911411976?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112836166911411976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112836166911411976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112836166911411976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112836166911411976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/10/familiar-merry-go-round.html' title='familiar merry-go-round.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112792009891269861</id><published>2005-09-28T22:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-28T23:10:05.853+08:00</updated><title type='text'>fallen at his feet.</title><content type='html'>i claim to embrace His grace and love. i do, actually. but now, fears crawl up to me and consume my presence, and every hope. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am usually glowing in confidence. even if i am at the deep end of the valley, i know i am good and that i am capable of excellence. yet, i am starting to look down at the grounds. the glory fades away, leaving me in subtle tears. silence, being the only living that i feel comfortable with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i ask, i seek, i ask, i seek, i ask again, and there i seek again. this is not a game of hide and seek. i plead to know the direction that i should walk. i could weep, i could scream, it could almost be agony. i look in the mirror, what is becoming of me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;faith? i have to cling onto it. oh please do not tear my hands away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;straight path? did He not give to me? or did i just not see? are monetary issues the root of everything? i know they are worth nothing more than the thin bark of trees. so why is it groping onto me? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am sinking into quicksand already. i can spend twenty four hours thinking, or even a week in thoughts. but i still find no answer. or maybe, the answer has been carved out on my forehead. maybe you could read and tell me? i feel lost, and disillusioned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am not of any calibre to be an adult. inside me, i hear the screams of a child tired of living in the costume of a retired teenager. i am almost falling to my knees. oh correct me, i am already on my knees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh Lord, please guide me. You are the counsellor of my life. for the wisdom that is unfound in me, oh Lord please fill my questions with answers, please shake the doubts into nothingness. in this maze of life, where my world sometimes reeks of conformity, please use me to glorify Your name. i seek to glorify Your name in all that i do. please lead me to the path of Your will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh Lord, please hear my pleas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112792009891269861?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112792009891269861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112792009891269861' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112792009891269861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112792009891269861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/09/fallen-at-his-feet.html' title='fallen at his feet.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112771268665711236</id><published>2005-09-26T13:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-26T13:31:26.666+08:00</updated><title type='text'>see that rainbow.</title><content type='html'>i am quitting. hurray!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112771268665711236?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112771268665711236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112771268665711236' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112771268665711236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112771268665711236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/09/see-that-rainbow.html' title='see that rainbow.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112591797724283172</id><published>2005-09-05T17:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-02T12:35:11.946+08:00</updated><title type='text'>little scout and the compass.</title><content type='html'>i get hit by this a little too often, feeling i am lost in a rainforest. i hear the sweet sounds of nature, i feel the light raindrops sliding off my moist skin, through the side of my eyes i see rays of sunshine reflecting softly off the dew on the leaves. though nerve-wrecked knowing that i am lost for directions, my heart beats in a regular pounding manner. i take comfort in knowing that each step i take forward, is a step closer to Him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112591797724283172?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112591797724283172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112591797724283172' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112591797724283172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112591797724283172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/09/little-scout-and-compass.html' title='little scout and the compass.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112572900924956786</id><published>2005-09-03T14:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-03T14:32:25.513+08:00</updated><title type='text'>homestay.</title><content type='html'>been to the docs, and back. medicine, they make me feel like i am sick. but, oh well, i guess i am. am i supposed to get better? i hope i will, anyway. being ill equates to half of me vanished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bored stiff, the air i am breathing is reeking of boredom. frumpy saturdays, how could this be happening to me? i hope this pair of tickets cheers me up. the silence and serenity of the theatre should ease my rocking frustrations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;off to a relaxing shower now, thinking about food makes my saturday seem happier already. first thing upon reaching destination, hot fudge sundae! yummy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112572900924956786?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112572900924956786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112572900924956786' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112572900924956786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112572900924956786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/09/homestay.html' title='homestay.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112549653389453682</id><published>2005-08-31T21:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-31T21:55:33.893+08:00</updated><title type='text'>plugged in to recharge.</title><content type='html'>the phone has not rang, and the mails are not coming in. it can get rather disheartening without work. i cannot say that i miss work. afterall, i have to admit that i am enjoying my leisure life now. it is back to the good old school days! but this cannot go on forever. and i do not want it to, anyway. i want to burn brightly, like a litted firefly in the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i shall press on. things will work out fine, i know He's working on it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112549653389453682?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112549653389453682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112549653389453682' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112549653389453682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112549653389453682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/08/plugged-in-to-recharge.html' title='plugged in to recharge.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112549589638399888</id><published>2005-08-31T21:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-31T21:46:44.020+08:00</updated><title type='text'>wizards and spells.</title><content type='html'>been unwell for three days, and this count has not come to a halt. my breaths are diminishing, exhaustion is perpetually constant. i am not a fan of medicine and clinics, but i am starting to wave hello, it is getting a little too much to bear. weird thing is, my appetite is still going on strong, or rather, stronger. what's wrong with me? doctor!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112549589638399888?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112549589638399888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112549589638399888' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112549589638399888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112549589638399888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/08/wizards-and-spells.html' title='wizards and spells.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112490807475881952</id><published>2005-08-25T02:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-25T02:33:47.183+08:00</updated><title type='text'>inches of bean stalk.</title><content type='html'>a six year old would anxiously sit by her precious bean sprout plant, waiting for the head of the cute little bean sprout to pop out of the soil. despite it being planted barely a few hours back, the anxiety and excitement could just hardly contain themselves. see the sparkle in the child's eyes, see the shiny glimmers of hope and faith in those almond-shaped eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and so here i am, not six years old, and in fact, many multiples older, clicking countless times to check my mail. okay, okay and so i admit i am not &lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt; patient. i checked my mail for abit and soon after, i hopped off and returned to lala land. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the prospect i replied yesterday had not returned a reply. well, i am probably a tad disappointed but hey, he may just reply tomorrow! i am not at all worried, i am just entirely excited waiting for a reply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and today, here is another shout! another prospect had contacted me. cheerios cheerios. i must absolutely give thanks to the Almighty One above. He is so nice. i am so grateful. of course, nothing has yet been confirmed, but i know all good things will come my way, in His time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hope His time is not too faraway. let patience and peace rest in me tonight, i am already looking forward to tomorrow. smiles.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112490807475881952?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112490807475881952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112490807475881952' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112490807475881952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112490807475881952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/08/inches-of-bean-stalk.html' title='inches of bean stalk.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112473384197523676</id><published>2005-08-23T00:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-23T17:00:09.210+08:00</updated><title type='text'>grass of the field.</title><content type='html'>i was watching the telly earlier when i suddenly sat up, feeling tensed and uptight. fine lines started revealing themselves on my forehead, and a frown slowly formed out of my lips. worries consumed me for a good whole few seconds there, horror terror. i honestly hate to worry about tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and the tomorrow of all tomorrows. it is senseless, pure torment and tears joy into pieces. thankfully, i managed to cast that aside, drilling faithfully, helplessly into my mind that i need not worry about tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"if that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into fire, will He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?"&lt;br /&gt;- matthew 6:30&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and hours later, hope was clearly in sight, a prospect! the road ahead is long and winding, but i am thankful that i have this path to walk, and i will continue walking His will by faith.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112473384197523676?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112473384197523676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112473384197523676' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112473384197523676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112473384197523676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/08/grass-of-field.html' title='grass of the field.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112456168416456901</id><published>2005-08-21T01:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-21T21:11:34.906+08:00</updated><title type='text'>streaks of rainbows.</title><content type='html'>when happiness is in my life in continuous form, i gleam inside-out, and wanna hug the world and kiss all the cute puppies and guinea pigs in my sight. it is always nice to receive compliments, and when it comes from someone whom you value an incredible amount, it is extremely rewarding. it kicks doubts off your insecurities, and fills your day with golden-yellow sunshine. who cares if the skies were gray this morning, and the rain was pouring anxiously to flood the grounds? even feeling unwell did not manage to dip me in any gloom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him, my other half, our families and my friends, are the best in the world! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;may my lucky continuity continues. if i must give an estimate, work is barely a eighth way there, the road ahead remains an arduous uphill trek but i am full of faith and hope, i know that things will definitely get better! plans were drawn out, and we are now counting on our rusted engines to put these into action. oiling in process! a slow start is expected, i was afterall obliviously sinking my waist in brown grainy rust just days back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, with effort, comes good results, and flying colors. journeys which are long and winding are exceptionally memorable, the view from the peak of The Destination is going to be mind-blowing. this is going to be such a beautiful ride!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112456168416456901?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112456168416456901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112456168416456901' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112456168416456901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112456168416456901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/08/streaks-of-rainbows.html' title='streaks of rainbows.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112455988663208823</id><published>2005-08-21T01:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-21T01:44:46.640+08:00</updated><title type='text'>mud and jams.</title><content type='html'>yours truly here is starting to flop, like slime and mud. packed schedules tend to throw me off the wall like car-packed jams. seems i have to take a class on time management or something, something that guides me on how to coordinate my plans, needs and wants, and stuff them all into the insufficient hours each day gives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for awhile, i was trapped in a ball that stood constant, even as time slips off the way sand does from the gaps between our fingers. yet now, i find myself constantly rolling. i want to burn myself out, push myself beyond the limits. in short, i would like to grow. i want to learn new things, i wish to surpass myself. i guess i am just bored of me, the complacent me who is always in content, yet never contented. it somehow gets frustrating, to be in a permanent form of self-contradiction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am never much of a determined person, much less of a fighter. but i am hoping this gust of zest in me will last more than a few moments. i simply have too many dreams waiting for me to pluck off the sky, all waiting for me to wave my hands, stretch a little and reach out for them. i have to get moving. my dreams are waiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dreams do come true. i know mine will, ours will.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112455988663208823?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112455988663208823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112455988663208823' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112455988663208823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112455988663208823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/08/mud-and-jams.html' title='mud and jams.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112438868628207523</id><published>2005-08-19T01:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-19T02:31:08.830+08:00</updated><title type='text'>fly by.</title><content type='html'>fly by, surely time could slow down a little, but no, it has already been five days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the soil digging has been worthwhile, baby steps may be small but i trust we are in the right direction. the Lord paves the road, and we the humble servants obey and walk the path. thinking back, we have no clues why we had paused in what we had set out to do earlier. i guess setbacks and disappointments had thrashed our high hopes then. maybe we had shunned away to escape further despair, or maybe it really just was not the right time. anyway, i would like to think that it is not too late. and gladly, nothing in this world is ever too late. regrets do happen, but if we find strength, we will usually find our way to iron out the regrets, or to move on. and so, we did have our share of regrets, about things we did or did not do. and now, we finally find strength through Him to shove those stubborn stains of regrets aside, working cheerfully towards our dreams and plans. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i would somewhat like to think that we are now stronger than before. i honestly think i have grown stronger, not physcially of course, how is that possible with delicious shakes, mozarella cheese and permanantly-postponed gym visits? i just seem to get along a little better with the word 'perseverance' these few days, even though the strings are getting tighter, and worries tend to set in often in the late nights while i lie in bed, with a mind too active to sleep, too free to frown and ponder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we cannot ensure a success, but He can. once in awhile, i do face doubts about my own talents and plus-points, but the gifts He had blessed me with must be worth As and distinctions! therefore, i choose to press on, and put those gifts and blessings to good use. i will hang in there, i will persevere till the time comes for our prayers to be answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am like a child, waiting for the clock to strike twelve on christmas day, eagerly counting down to the day my little plant will bloom into bright petals. i really hope it will be soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112438868628207523?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112438868628207523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112438868628207523' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112438868628207523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112438868628207523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/08/fly-by.html' title='fly by.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112438882691795267</id><published>2005-08-18T02:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-19T02:16:57.003+08:00</updated><title type='text'>model student.</title><content type='html'>my other half has been rather diligent today. the library is probably still not his favorite hangout, and the study room is definitely never going to be his favorite spot in his home, but the struggling efforts are undeniable. though it is no doubt a very miserly five short minutes of concentration span on those fat chunks of books, i figure it is still a start worth champagne and party poppers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;do not worry, baby. you can do it! (eeks, sounds so cheesy, but oh well, who cares? heh.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112438882691795267?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112438882691795267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112438882691795267' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112438882691795267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112438882691795267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/08/model-student.html' title='model student.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112407530379008396</id><published>2005-08-15T10:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-19T01:28:49.650+08:00</updated><title type='text'>happy soiled fingers.</title><content type='html'>i am feeling rather rejuvenated today, despite running on a serious lack of sleep. dark rings shall not tempt me to slumberland. dreams start to fuel my slightly weighted footsteps, and my little petrol tank in gradual motion gets pumped up full. i had been in deep sleep for hundreds of days, stretching to months. doing some simple math, i am now left with only under three months to convict myself to a path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this path, or that? the answer will be revealed in good time, in His time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for now, i am going to dig the dirty pile of soil with my rusty half-retired engine, and plant the seed. i am certain He will water my sweet seedling, this plant will nurture and prosper in His glory. it will bloom, it will flower. its colors will glorify His name, and the colors will fill my sight with answered prayers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can hardly wait!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112407530379008396?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112407530379008396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112407530379008396' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112407530379008396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112407530379008396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/08/happy-soiled-fingers.html' title='happy soiled fingers.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112396004001715703</id><published>2005-08-14T03:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-19T02:35:15.550+08:00</updated><title type='text'>tartare paradise.</title><content type='html'>date: 13 august 2005&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;time: 2100&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;venue: fish &amp; co.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;drinks: free-flow kola tonic and two glasses of iced water&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;side dishes: two fish &amp; chips, and a pan of fried calamari&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;main dish: FIVE saucers of tartare sauce.........YUMMY!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112396004001715703?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112396004001715703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112396004001715703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112396004001715703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112396004001715703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/08/tartare-paradise.html' title='tartare paradise.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112366603952518120</id><published>2005-08-10T17:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-11T01:45:19.526+08:00</updated><title type='text'>new-fashioned momma.</title><content type='html'>'squeakkkkkk!', went my pigs, having their routine fight after the weekly shower. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'fight fight fight, naughty ah. the older the two of you get, the naughtier!', my mum nags at them rather sternly as the rounder pig trotted after the skinnier pig playfully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what follows, is the familiar clinking sound of food generously poured into their tinted glass dish.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112366603952518120?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112366603952518120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112366603952518120' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112366603952518120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112366603952518120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/08/new-fashioned-momma.html' title='new-fashioned momma.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112341170856983004</id><published>2005-08-06T18:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-14T03:26:07.176+08:00</updated><title type='text'>unexpected downpour.</title><content type='html'>the weather was sunbaked and rainless the whole of today, yet it was nonetheless a wet, or rather drenched saturday for my other half.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;while enjoying the moving air, and admiring scenic views of a typical saturday's traffic through the wind-down windows of the accelerating car, The Puppy conveniently relieved herself on his lap. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;warm, he said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's warm, he said.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112341170856983004?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112341170856983004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112341170856983004' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112341170856983004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112341170856983004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/08/unexpected-downpour.html' title='unexpected downpour.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112321331625600063</id><published>2005-08-05T11:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-05T11:43:41.613+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the puppy.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5782/606/1600/puppy1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5782/606/320/puppy1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112321331625600063?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112321331625600063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112321331625600063' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112321331625600063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112321331625600063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/08/puppy.html' title='the puppy.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112317783566338348</id><published>2005-08-05T01:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-05T11:51:12.570+08:00</updated><title type='text'>woofie woof woof.</title><content type='html'>while walking The Puppy today, we had to stop numerous times in our tracks despite wanting to hurry our steps and get home quick. The Puppy had been munching on every slightly scented object (animal/plant, living/non-living) on the drenched roads, resulting in my other half's hands perpetually resided in The Puppy's throat half the time. and for the precious few moments that his hands were freed, The Puppy was optimistically trying to catch a few black flurry birds to keep as pets. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then midway plodding our way home with The Puppy, a little girl with jet black hair and sparkling eyes had us three mesmerized. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the following were the mumbles of her baby talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;woofie. &lt;i&gt;clapping her little hands, frantically waving them in excitement.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;woof! &lt;i&gt;she giggled, as we paused our steps and The Puppy tugged the leash wanting to run to the little girl.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;woof woof! &lt;i&gt;she giggled again.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;touch! &lt;i&gt;looking at her dad for boozes of courage, and the dad egged the little girl on. go ahead, touch if you want, he said, in a father's strong reassuring voice.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;scared! &lt;i&gt;she backed off, gurgling in laughter as The Puppy pounced up and down in rhythm.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sayang. &lt;i&gt;and she carefully took a few steps forward, stretching her small hands and gently stroked The Puppy's beautiful, freshly brushed fur. she squiggled in gleaming happiness.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and as the three of us continued to trudge our way home, her innocent eyes laid still on us, attentively watching our distancing backs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and so, The Puppy made a new friend today, this little girl who lives a few streets away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112317783566338348?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112317783566338348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112317783566338348' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112317783566338348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112317783566338348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/08/woofie-woof-woof.html' title='woofie woof woof.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112287909201550396</id><published>2005-08-01T14:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-01T14:51:32.016+08:00</updated><title type='text'>shining rays in gloom.</title><content type='html'>feeling hopeless reminds us that we are helpless without Him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112287909201550396?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112287909201550396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112287909201550396' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112287909201550396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112287909201550396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/08/shining-rays-in-gloom.html' title='shining rays in gloom.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112266263633465783</id><published>2005-07-30T02:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-01T14:45:37.003+08:00</updated><title type='text'>welcome to the family.</title><content type='html'>prayers are always answered. a month ago, we had prayed and left it in His hands. a month had passed, and we obediently, though reluctantly learnt to let it go, let it pass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today, the prayer is answered. in good time, He reminds us, all in good time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the puppy will be joining the family on sunday, we cannot wait. the puppy will be showered with love, love and more love. i can hardly contain my happiness, in fact, i cannot. i am giddy from fluttering around in joyful smiling circles. i am so happy, i can no longer write without sounding gibberish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the puppy is finally coming home with us. i am a lucky four-leaf clover.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112266263633465783?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112266263633465783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112266263633465783' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112266263633465783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112266263633465783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/07/welcome-to-family.html' title='welcome to the family.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112211292667637665</id><published>2005-07-23T17:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-30T02:18:04.450+08:00</updated><title type='text'>ripple effect.</title><content type='html'>if only repercussions do not exist, but we all know that they do. and from past experiences, i know i am often misread, misunderstood then oddly maligned. as a consequence, i now learn that i really cannot even offer an innocent smile in response to &lt;em&gt;the hello&lt;/em&gt;, in fear the ripples start those monster waves and drown us all again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in every choice laid on this table, i cannot seem to escape being misunderstood. i just hope all will come to pass, soon. i have to keep my eyes on Him and keep reminding myself, that i live not to be a crowd pleaser, that all does not matter, except for Him and Him only.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112211292667637665?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112211292667637665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112211292667637665' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112211292667637665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112211292667637665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/07/ripple-effect.html' title='ripple effect.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112211217680948786</id><published>2005-07-23T17:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-23T17:49:36.810+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the magic bread.</title><content type='html'>i still enjoy doraemon. i am still mesmerized by his Bread, the Bread that can help you pass all examinations. how easy can examinations get? you just have to eat the Bread!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112211217680948786?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112211217680948786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112211217680948786' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112211217680948786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112211217680948786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/07/magic-bread.html' title='the magic bread.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112186058476928589</id><published>2005-07-20T17:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-30T02:19:13.510+08:00</updated><title type='text'>superheroes.</title><content type='html'>when i was a child, dressed in cute mini clothes and ponytails, my jaws perpetually dropped in awe each time the soft cuddly carebears shine their superhero powers or ride at 280kmph (assuming superheroes need not keep to speed limits) in the light blue skies on their cloudful convertibles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;having grown out of superbears and &lt;em&gt;"i am the terror, that flaps in the night. i am duck wing duck!"&lt;/em&gt;, i departed the colorful fictional telly world and slipped into the real world- a place where darkness lurks not just in the troubled alleys, but also on the brightly litted highways. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the good may sometimes have to endure vicious cuts and slashes, and the pain often too much to bear. the bad and villians run freely, laughing in the open, while the good weeps in an unheard whisper in the deserted nights. a funny world, whipped out of irony and chinese drama serials. and look at the bizarre headlines of our daily newspapers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thankfully, He is the truth. He sees all, knows all. therefore, we need not fear. because at the end of the day, when all is stripped away, it is only Him that matters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is my superhero, the One whom i can always count on, the Greatest Author and Authority. my once broken life, He has taken away and showers me now with healing, love, hope and the sweetest blessings. He will always provide, and like my other half says, "all in good time".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has blessed me immensely. May God bless you too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112186058476928589?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112186058476928589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112186058476928589' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112186058476928589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112186058476928589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/07/superheroes.html' title='superheroes.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112058576565107865</id><published>2005-07-06T01:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-06T02:18:08.810+08:00</updated><title type='text'>at the table.</title><content type='html'>"yeah, i know that guy. his name is.......hmmm, starts with a B......." &lt;em&gt;ransacking my brain.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Benjamin?" &lt;em&gt;my other half asked, with a suspicious snigger.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bernard?" &lt;em&gt;dad added, with a smirk.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"or Benga-li?" &lt;em&gt;continued dad, with an innocent ponder.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i wonder why didn't i flip. the two most idiotic men on earth are under the same roof, MY roof.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112058576565107865?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112058576565107865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112058576565107865' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112058576565107865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112058576565107865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/07/at-table.html' title='at the table.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112056953891690505</id><published>2005-07-05T12:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-06T12:12:33.443+08:00</updated><title type='text'>scrabble is hilarious.</title><content type='html'>i rolled in bed like a volley and laughed till my throat tonsils swelled. i figure this is why i am so addicted to him, though he pisses the hell out of me sometimes; he makes me happy just by being him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my other half just booted me out of an online scrabble game, not once, but thrice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and can you guess why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, off i go again, continuing the ball rolling in bed. &lt;em&gt;laughs.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;with him, everything can be hilarious, even when life's a bumpy ride.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112056953891690505?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112056953891690505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112056953891690505' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112056953891690505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112056953891690505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/07/scrabble-is-hilarious.html' title='scrabble is hilarious.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112052081248763513</id><published>2005-07-04T23:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-06T02:30:27.883+08:00</updated><title type='text'>chilled attempt at being the norm.</title><content type='html'>writing vaguely with a layer of mist is just very me, my very lukewarm effort at clouding my personal life with ambiguity for privacy concerns. but today, for a change, i shall attempt to be transparent and see if this manner of archiving my memories spices up my routine living.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so here's yet another typical monday morning; majority of this city's people are dragging their reluctant feet to the cluttered upbeat business district/stress-filled educational institions, while i snuggle under my blanket waiting for mister sun to roast my little butt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;with a buzz from my doorbell, my other half saved me from being a grilled hot chick by turning up at my doorstep at 9 a.m. i surprised myself when i did not rip his succulent neck apart, but how could i? he had me at hello. i ended up a very happy girl with a stomach full of juicy honey-glazed pork ribs. the oddity of having fresh-out-of-oven ribs for breakfast is a rather excellent idea, yummy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh, so am i finally a sheet of transparency film? does this score a low haze index? figure not, clueless, tada.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112052081248763513?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112052081248763513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112052081248763513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112052081248763513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112052081248763513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/07/chilled-attempt-at-being-norm.html' title='chilled attempt at being the norm.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112049215549743254</id><published>2005-07-04T23:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-06T12:17:18.946+08:00</updated><title type='text'>down the other way.</title><content type='html'>runaway runaway oh runaway,&lt;br /&gt;solitude is beauty oh solitary strength,&lt;br /&gt;i run miles to leave you out of sight,&lt;br /&gt;to not have you in mind,&lt;br /&gt;to breathe in that normal rhythm,&lt;br /&gt;to not fall, to not cry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112049215549743254?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112049215549743254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112049215549743254' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112049215549743254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112049215549743254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/07/down-other-way.html' title='down the other way.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-111885498482443183</id><published>2005-06-30T16:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-06T12:17:51.863+08:00</updated><title type='text'>spring in june.</title><content type='html'>my room is a classic museum if one was ever keen to read my life as a book, on a random sunday morning. a large collection of my belongings are wildly consumed by dust/camouflaged by rust/invisible. while many used to mean the world to me, most are now memories solely for reminiscence purposes (aged people have this bad habit. i &lt;em&gt;heard&lt;/em&gt; it makes them feel younger).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, enough said, it is time for springcleaning! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;trash evacuation!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-111885498482443183?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/111885498482443183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=111885498482443183' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/111885498482443183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/111885498482443183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/06/spring-in-june.html' title='spring in june.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-112004324778898169</id><published>2005-06-30T04:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-30T15:23:56.730+08:00</updated><title type='text'>wagging that tongue.</title><content type='html'>spoken/written words can never be vacuumed back into your regretful throat. even an ocean of penitence, served along with a platter of sincere sorriness can retreat no hurt that has been inflicted. physical wounds tarnish the beauty that the vastly superficial world desires, but it is the emotional slap on the broken heart that cries and bleeds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;true enough, healing is always possible, but the process is hardly ever painless or effortless, and scarring can sometimes be a permanent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for countless times, i had spoken/written words to burn, to spite, to anger, to break, to judge, to hurt. that tongue, when controlled by the ferocious mean monster, is nothing short of a destructive warhead. how i wish my tongue is a purified white angel, holy holy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for those who are starting to worry about what crazy drama had happened over the weekend, or what garbage did i spout and am now grinding my teeth desperately to chew them into minced non-existence, well nothing much happened really; at least none that measured a minimum 6 on my richter scale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it is however, a minor weekend affair that got me thinking about misbehaved tongues; and my current amazement at the crowded local blogging scene that litted this entry. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am quite an isolated blogger, contented to blog in this quiet secluded blog which entertains few/sometimes no &lt;em&gt;readers&lt;/em&gt;. i have no desire to seek fame. i write senseless nothings of zero/near-zero entertainment value; sometimes random words which string together to become total incoherence, sometimes poems which express my serious thoughts despite coming across as gibberish talk to others, sometimes self-centric paragraphs about myself, myself and myself. in short, this blog is so private that it probably holds significance only to myself, and a few others (i am trying hard to count beyond my thumb).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;reading about some local bloggers in the papers got me doing some surfing, reading and thinking. there is this emerging trend that blogs are slowly shedding its identity of being online journals. they are now quarterly like forums, or jigsaw puzzles that help strangers/friends/anyone piece (read: judge) your personality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;famous local bloggers seem to get their peace wrecked quite abit. the sarong party girl removed her debatable pictures, xiaxue received hate mails for voicing out her personal opinions; i guess the list goes on, but i really do not know that much about the local blogging community and this little knowledge is enough for me to not want to probe further. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everyone has beliefs, values et cetera which they hold onto firmly, yet we have a tendency to force our opinions on others, forgetting the very basic principle of respect. words can torment anyone, loved ones, friends or strangers. we can sometimes be a little too quick to judge, to comment, to advise, to criticize. we tend to think our perspectives are right, and conclude too adamantly that every other person's views are foolish/wrong/immature/unacceptable. what often happens next is that, we are overly generous with our so-called honest opinions and end up being harsh and hurtful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i guess, all i wanted to say in this long and obviously-too-lengthy entry, is that it is perfectly fine to be straightforward, feel free to articulate your thoughts, but there is never a need to be unkind. well, having said this, i hope to tame my misbehaved tongue. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and to all bloggers, since all of us blog for various diverse reasons, i hope all of you guys survive well, in respective manners. as for me, this little lonely bubble is keeping me very fine, and happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-112004324778898169?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/112004324778898169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=112004324778898169' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112004324778898169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/112004324778898169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/06/wagging-that-tongue.html' title='wagging that tongue.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-111949904170009890</id><published>2005-06-25T11:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-25T18:11:55.970+08:00</updated><title type='text'>tunnel of that traveler.</title><content type='html'>loneliness of a traveler, &lt;br /&gt;lonelily, lonelily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to question the living world, &lt;br /&gt;to disbelieve, to understand. &lt;br /&gt;to fight,&lt;br /&gt;to compromise,&lt;br /&gt;to despair,&lt;br /&gt;to hope,&lt;br /&gt;to isolate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then walk on to lose all that shouting thoughts,&lt;br /&gt;tears,&lt;br /&gt;and scramblings,&lt;br /&gt;only to be an average societal soul, &lt;br /&gt;for yet another two burning laps,&lt;br /&gt;on the familiarly packed charcoaled track.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-111949904170009890?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/111949904170009890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=111949904170009890' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/111949904170009890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/111949904170009890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/06/tunnel-of-that-traveler.html' title='tunnel of that traveler.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-111959492233882910</id><published>2005-06-24T13:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-29T18:51:43.533+08:00</updated><title type='text'>her green fingers.</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;mum dashes out of her bedroom in a flustered whirlwind, late for an appointment.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"DADDDDDYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;i, being ever so helpful, poked my itchy nose in.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"what? pa is in the room."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"HELP ME WATER THE PLANTS!!!!!!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;struggling with her shoes while the keys jiggle in her hands.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;raises my brows&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"plants? aren't they dead?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"BUT MUST STILL WATER!! WATER FOR ME OKAY??!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;BAMM. the heavy wooded door has shut itself. silence.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;grumbles to self.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"so she is really not giving up till the plants are stark naked." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;shrugs.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-111959492233882910?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/111959492233882910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=111959492233882910' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/111959492233882910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/111959492233882910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/06/her-green-fingers.html' title='her green fingers.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-111941270143998283</id><published>2005-06-22T11:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-22T12:46:43.106+08:00</updated><title type='text'>random blog-fillers.</title><content type='html'>1.out pops another wedding invite from my mail, throwing me into a much dreaded shopping frenzy; but there is no escape. my wardrobe happens not to be, so hmmm wedding-friendly. shrugs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.i finally gave mum her mother's day gift, on father's day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.my other half more than makes up for my lacking in culinary talent. he whipped up an awesome awesome dinner last night; better-than-nydc baked pasta, sinfully peppery roast chicken and melt-in-your-mouth 100% homemade mash potatoes. jughead would love you baby, i tell ya, but hurrays, you are mine mine, all mine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.i am feeling slightly vexed and troubled over something, but this is not worth mentioning. i figure the more i talk about it, the more the gloomy blues consumes me. i really should sulk less, and pray more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.cracker is supposed to visit the vet two weeks back. i am so going to get scolded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.oh, and i finally went to the very famous maxwell food market for the first time last sunday! i am not absolutely certain, but it may also be my very first time having fish meat bee hoon (i do not recall having had fish meat bee hoon, but i have a vague recollection of some sort of noodles with a soup base that looks beigey and creamy too. any other noodles with that sort of base? or is it &lt;em&gt;deja vu&lt;/em&gt; acting up? well, probably.). it ain't too bad, but i think i seriously need to work on my chopstick skills. chopsticks is such an impairment, it makes me slower than the queen of tortoises.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-111941270143998283?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/111941270143998283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=111941270143998283' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/111941270143998283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/111941270143998283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/06/random-blog-fillers.html' title='random blog-fillers.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-111803445833983692</id><published>2005-06-08T18:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-08T22:14:22.193+08:00</updated><title type='text'>jack in the box.</title><content type='html'>sometimes, out of nowhere, you find a piece of your past. it lingers around in a silent whisper, maybe in that cluttered drawer, maybe in that dusty brown bag you have long stopped favoring. and as we speak, jack in the box of memories pops out, taking you by surprise, and questions you if your today is better than that yesterday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;so, do you miss that yesterday?&lt;/em&gt; jack presses me to answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i shook my head, though not wanting to offend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am thankful for all my yesterdays, and i have not stripped them of their worth. but they have passed and i now, in my hands, hold a God-given bag filled with overpouring love, happiness and a bleaming bright future. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yesterdays cannot co-exist with todays. and having said that, i shall press on with all my todays to find the sunshiny tomorrows, leaving yesterdays in their beautiful boxes of faded letters, and jaded promises.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-111803445833983692?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/111803445833983692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=111803445833983692' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/111803445833983692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/111803445833983692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/06/jack-in-box.html' title='jack in the box.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-111602533827276361</id><published>2005-05-14T01:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-17T13:18:55.636+08:00</updated><title type='text'>melted candy.</title><content type='html'>this is literally the third candy cane, that has lured me into its den with its sweet sugar and seductive cavities. but i or rather, we are going to let it pass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it is rather heart-wrenching. i cannot really see what could possibly lay beyond this that could be anymore delicious than this house built of chocolate fudge. blinded, i have to keep my eyes on Him and trust that He gives us nothing but the best. in this, i find the little bit of comfort that keeps me from dwelling further into disappointment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am hoping that tomorrow will be a little more like a day in 1987. give me a break from the adult world that trudges forward, leaving me behind all the time. i am tired of catching up with that accelerating packed bullet train. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it would be nice to take a walk in the gentle breeze of 1987, and breathe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-111602533827276361?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/111602533827276361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=111602533827276361' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/111602533827276361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/111602533827276361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/05/melted-candy.html' title='melted candy.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8729286.post-111583463571064507</id><published>2005-05-12T01:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T11:01:45.486+08:00</updated><title type='text'>monsters in my pocket.</title><content type='html'>when my pets take ill, they amplify their squeaks four notches up to get their obnoxious ways, get greedier than real farm pigs, and irritate the hell out of me by staying awake till the wee hours. it is nearing 2 a.m now and they are a thousand hundred miles from slumberland. the lights are out, my eyes see a portrait of black, but my firmly shut ears fail to sift out all that munching, chewing, squeaking, purring, whining, and strolling around their little rosy garden. and you think they will love me for sharing the comfort of air-conditioning with them? no. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but bugger, i am too attached. i cannot find rest if they are not next to me. they are my pretty nightlights. i love them, muacks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, it is rather fun to feed them their medications. for once, i get to be the big bad wolf, and no one gets to call me evil. sniggers. grins. laughs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on a wackier note, a trip to the vet changes life, in an odd theatre sense. my other half was thrown into a role-playing frenzy earlier. he is the suave surgeon who operates on his patients (read: pigs) with complex mini syringes, watch the sexy droplets of occupational perspiration forming on his forehead; while i am the girlie white nurse who fills the syringes with the yellow-colored magic potions, and wipes the surgeon's forehead gently in poetic fashion. flashback to reality, he is no surgeon and i am no nurse. we are just two idiots who love terrorising their pets. payback time, this is fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, life is interesting. even i am amused as i watch my life roll in the brown muddy swamps.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8729286-111583463571064507?l=tashes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/feeds/111583463571064507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8729286&amp;postID=111583463571064507' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/111583463571064507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8729286/posts/default/111583463571064507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashes.blogspot.com/2005/05/monsters-in-my-pocket.html' title='monsters in my pocket.'/><author><name>Tashes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033984093763792517</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
