<?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-6012774329903932974</id><updated>2011-07-30T19:58:46.208-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Think Twice</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ceri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01185947258905878996</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>19</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6012774329903932974.post-1687668382766765063</id><published>2009-10-09T07:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T07:46:13.924-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I WANT TO BE</title><content type='html'>Famous. Yes, that's what I want to be. I want to feel how it is on stage, to sing my heart out. I don't have that great of a voice, but I know I'll get better. I want to sing my songs, to sing what I wrote, to feel my head banging to the loud beat of the drums.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be a lawyer. I want to be a singer. I want to be a writer. I want to be so much more. But right now, I want to be a singer while pursuing law. I want people to appreciate music and I want to sweat on stage knowing I produced sweat just as I produced that song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It may seem like a fairytale, but slowly, fairytales are now nothing but reality to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently I dropped my "I want to be slimmer" phase. I've totally abandoned it that I feel great about myself. I don't care about what people say about me now. I wear what I want, don't give a shit about you if you think I look awful. But apparently, I don't. I love the way I can wear make-up without anyone telling me that I'm trying hard so much. I've always wanted to, I just really was pussy enough not to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the way I can just go into class wearing heels and people would think that my shoes are cute, not slutty and that I'm trying to attract. ...when I really am not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm happy that I'm no longer invisible, I hope that I can apply this on stage. The first person I want to see in the crowd is Mich. To see him support me in something I like doing makes me very secure and special. I can't wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might just piss myself. *snorts*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6012774329903932974-1687668382766765063?l=heroineheroin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/feeds/1687668382766765063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-want-to-be.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/1687668382766765063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/1687668382766765063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-want-to-be.html' title='I WANT TO BE'/><author><name>Ceri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01185947258905878996</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-6012774329903932974.post-532542360542258664</id><published>2009-08-06T07:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T07:52:28.503-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NOT A SECOND TO WASTE</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I wish I had that firefighter back. Someone who'd read all my thoughts, who knew me so well. Who I could talk to all the time without fighting over anything and everything. That person who'd come to my aid when I start breaking down.&lt;p&gt;In the end, I just drove that person away.&lt;p&gt;I sound like such a pussy talking about this. Regretting things, that is.&lt;p&gt;But then again, I brought this upon myself.&lt;p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6012774329903932974-532542360542258664?l=heroineheroin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/feeds/532542360542258664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/08/not-second-to-waste.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/532542360542258664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/532542360542258664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/08/not-second-to-waste.html' title='NOT A SECOND TO WASTE'/><author><name>Ceri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01185947258905878996</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-6012774329903932974.post-2417224251425620747</id><published>2009-08-05T12:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T12:18:54.728-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WHAT IS INSOMNIA?</title><content type='html'>I'm not quite sure, but I think I've gotten the pull as well. It has been a habit lately--for me to sleep no earlier than 3 am. Yesterday, I slept at 6 am. Perhaps it's just me, getting hooked into dramas lately. It may sound cheesy, but it has become my personal brand of heroine--cocaine, if you wish.&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nevertheless, I've decided that I'd change my ways and start anew.&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li type=square&gt;I will limit my curses to maximum of three swear words per blog.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li type=square&gt;I will try to lessen my alcohol intake.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li type=square&gt;I will study non-stop starting tomorrow night.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li type=square&gt;I will not eat any longer for this week (except for going back to the apartment).&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li type=square&gt;And lastly, I am going to lose 10 pounds.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Currently 3:16 am right now. I refuse to believe that I have insomnia as my mum tells me. I really should stop watching korean/japanese dramas. |:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;p&gt;P.S. I am in love with Kim Hyun Joon a.k.a. Yoon Ji Hoo in BBF. WOULD LIKE HIM TO VISIT MY DREAMS ONCE MORE PLEASE. ;o;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6012774329903932974-2417224251425620747?l=heroineheroin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/feeds/2417224251425620747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/08/what-is-insomnia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/2417224251425620747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/2417224251425620747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/08/what-is-insomnia.html' title='WHAT IS INSOMNIA?'/><author><name>Ceri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01185947258905878996</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-6012774329903932974.post-9050742008178912136</id><published>2009-07-17T01:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T02:25:36.235-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BIG BAND AID DESU</title><content type='html'>Filling you in with what's up with me lately.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li type=square&gt;I have a &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/trish.shishikura"&gt;facebook&lt;/a&gt; &lt;- CLICK!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li type=square&gt;I can still speak Japanese. (HA !)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li type=square&gt;I am still &lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt; single.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li type=square&gt;I'm training softball with the UST team. :&gt; (THE OFFICIAL ONE)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;As much as I love UST, sometimes I think people here lack originality? And as much as I'd hate to admit it, even my friends are part of them. I started wearing colourful socks, everyone did as well. I started wearing nail polish, people followed. And now even lipstick is part of this deranged cycle. What's next, the hair? The eye liner? Honestly, some people &lt;i&gt;cannot&lt;/i&gt; pull it off--really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I sort of feel bad of the coincidence--which I strongly feel isn't--that now that people are doing the same things I do, I don't stand out anymore. Even my friends look like me now. Not that I can tell them what not and what to wear, what to put and what not to put. I don't know. The insecurity is somewhat engulfing me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;P.S. Do you know where to buy &lt;i&gt;suman&lt;/i&gt;?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6012774329903932974-9050742008178912136?l=heroineheroin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/feeds/9050742008178912136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/07/big-band-aid-desu.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/9050742008178912136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/9050742008178912136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/07/big-band-aid-desu.html' title='BIG BAND AID DESU'/><author><name>Ceri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01185947258905878996</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-6012774329903932974.post-6471949851323290142</id><published>2009-07-10T06:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T07:06:58.197-07:00</updated><title type='text'>PLEASE KEEP AN OPEN MIND</title><content type='html'>--for I swear when I blog, when I write, but never do I use swear words unless used for dialogues in my stories. I speak about alcohol, about smoking, about sex, and the like. If you get offended by topics like what I've stated above, please leave this site immediately. I write for leisure, and not for anyone. I write for myself and myself only. I may be influenced by other writers, but never do I take others' work. I may bring up topics that have been brought up by others before, but I hope (if you are one of those people), that you do not get offended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty sure those reading this right now are old enough to take things maturely. If I talk about contraceptives, do not think I wrote about it because I am &lt;i&gt;green-minded&lt;/i&gt; or &lt;i&gt;immature&lt;/i&gt;. Those people who think that are the ones immature enough to handle something that shouldn't be taken lightly. Contraceptives save many from sexually transmitted diseases daily. Once again, if you are offended by topics like these, I'd suggest you leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not cuss because I think I feel cool. Writing is a form of self-expression. Please, do not judge.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6012774329903932974-6471949851323290142?l=heroineheroin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/feeds/6471949851323290142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/07/please-keep-open-mind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/6471949851323290142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/6471949851323290142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/07/please-keep-open-mind.html' title='PLEASE KEEP AN OPEN MIND'/><author><name>Ceri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01185947258905878996</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-6012774329903932974.post-777472696012578957</id><published>2009-07-03T06:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T07:17:59.820-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SKIP BEAT</title><content type='html'>This may be impulsive thinking on my part, but I have this weird wanting to be famous. Maybe it's the influence of watching Skip Beat! Eh, it'll pass. I think.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6012774329903932974-777472696012578957?l=heroineheroin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/feeds/777472696012578957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/07/skip-beat.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/777472696012578957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/777472696012578957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/07/skip-beat.html' title='SKIP BEAT'/><author><name>Ceri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01185947258905878996</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-6012774329903932974.post-2075091117153584591</id><published>2009-07-02T04:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T22:16:23.578-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'LL BE FUCKING FRANK</title><content type='html'>--when I say, that you make me fucking irritable now. You know who the fuck you are, and excuse me for including you in my posts but fuck, enough is enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;At first I felt bad because I took something that I shouldn't have in the first place. But you're a man now, you shouldn't be moping around, overfuckinganalyzing everything, telling everyone how motherfucking depressed you are. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Look, I gave it a fucking chance, I gambled when I shouldn't have, but &lt;i&gt;WHY&lt;/i&gt; the fuck did I do it? I did it for you, for your friends who have been badgering me to no end, telling me, "GIVE IT A CHANCE!" And I did, I have no regrets, and I don't act pussy over everything that's happened. I feel bad, yeah, but I don't regret it. At least I take responsibility for my own actions. I said be human, drink a bit, loosen up. But what the fuck are you doing? Getting drunk for several days, I'm not even sure you like the motherfucking alcohol. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I hate getting all these bullshit from everyone copy-pasting EVERYTHING you say, about your dramas, about how you make &lt;b&gt;ME&lt;/b&gt; the fucking villain in your sob-story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;What I did was wrong, I'd say sorry for it, but knowing you, you'll just give me these witty expressions that God only can decipher. You keep beating around the bush, and I'm tired of it. And that is why I decided to ceasefire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm tired of always being the center of what's happening to your fucking world and tired of being watched all the time. If you want to talk to me, then talk. But you can't hold my hand and grab my whole arm along with it. I can't be around you, talk to you, listen to you the whole time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Pardon me, my dear reader, if you do not understand what I'm going on about. But I must vent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm tired of having to be almost always the reason as to why you're mad, sad, pissed, or FUCKED. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;You're acting so fucking pussy which is why I hate going out with people like you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'll be frank when I say that I can't go out with guys like you because guys like you are as good as saints. We both know you &lt;i&gt;don't&lt;/i&gt; like alcohol, but you push yourself to drink it when you can't even take it. I don't go out with guys like you because I've gone way too far with other people, and be truthful, boys and girls, we like a little physical attention. People like you never even go farther than a fucking kiss. Fuck, you even overanalyzed your first. I don't go out with people like you because we all know that my emotions are way too much to handle, because I'm a bitch, and people like you can't handle bitches like me. I like them bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;You knew what you were getting yourself into. What I did was to give you backbone--so we can finally say, &lt;i&gt;hindi ka na totoy&lt;/i&gt;. But it seems like you couldn't even fucking handle that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lastly, I can't go out with people like you because if I did, then I'd have to suffer from your drama that &lt;b&gt;I motherfucking apparently inflicted into your motherfucking life&lt;/b&gt;. &lt;i&gt;Kita mo? Hindi ko nga alam na ganun na pala mga nangyayari sayo. Sa iba ko pa nalaman.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;You tell everyone &lt;i&gt;everyone&lt;/i&gt; about what's happening to you concerning me, and you magnify everything I do. We have common friends, and I know our common friends will never look at me the same way again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fuck me, I must have gotten lots better now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6012774329903932974-2075091117153584591?l=heroineheroin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/feeds/2075091117153584591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/07/ill-be-fucking-frank.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/2075091117153584591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/2075091117153584591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/07/ill-be-fucking-frank.html' title='I&apos;LL BE FUCKING FRANK'/><author><name>Ceri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01185947258905878996</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-6012774329903932974.post-8264281858926012551</id><published>2009-06-29T19:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T23:55:31.814-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'VE GOT INFLUENZA--DON'T FUCKING MESS WITH ME</title><content type='html'>Ha ha. Yeah, the title says it all. I have the flu (as I mentioned yesterday--or the other day--yup, other day.) Imagine that, I wasn't able to blog at all yesterday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Well I've been reacquainted with my bed these past few days, and Nana has too! She's been looking after me like a watch dog and never leaves my side unless someone rings the doorbell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;When I said she never leaves my side, I advise that you take it literally. She really never does. Even when I take a piss or get tissue from the stock room for my cold. Oh how I admire this dog's loyalty. I really do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Nevertheless, I've had such awkward dreams during my 21-22 hours of sleep per day. Of course, I'd have to discuss that next time for I really don't feel so well. Better catch up on how things are going with my bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;EDIT: So I decided to wake up.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Apparently we have homework posted on our e-leap. But as I am "too sick" to do anything, I'd rather take advantage of that. Hoho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Apart from eating lunch at 12, I also decided to get hungry. Rather, the metallic taste in my mouth is beginning to get me really, very annoyed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Also, I realised how much I get annoyed at other people's rants apart from mine. I read this one blog just now about him being so stressed out about this one girl who doesn't even care about him, or I don't know, I don't care either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Maybe I'm just too irritable when I'm sick?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I asked the maid to fetch me more of that &lt;i&gt;tinola&lt;/i&gt; from today's lunch, but it seems that I've already finished most of the soup. What's worse is that it's quite too cold for my liking and it's not really doing anything to soothe my taste buds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So since I am confined to this room till God-knows-when, I decided to take up on a new fanfic called "Sugar Daddy"--now don't get me wrong. I only started reading this because of the number of its reviewers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I also have this weird feeling--I have no idea whether it's just fucking gas or shit that's trying to tell me, "YOU'VE GOT FUCKING DIARRHEA." Either way, I don't think I have the resistance to stay on the toilet for hours, so it'll have to wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thank God, the maid finally brought me the lemonade I asked for. Not really sure whether it's a good pair for &lt;i&gt;tinola&lt;/i&gt;, but fuck that, I'm drinking it anyway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6012774329903932974-8264281858926012551?l=heroineheroin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/feeds/8264281858926012551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/ive-got-influenza-dont-mess-with-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/8264281858926012551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/8264281858926012551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/ive-got-influenza-dont-mess-with-me.html' title='I&apos;VE GOT INFLUENZA--DON&apos;T FUCKING MESS WITH ME'/><author><name>Ceri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01185947258905878996</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-6012774329903932974.post-8365625480111637463</id><published>2009-06-28T22:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T22:32:51.894-07:00</updated><title type='text'>RELAX, EINSTEIN</title><content type='html'>Relax, bitch. I don't have swine flu. As for death? I don't think I'll be facing that anytime soon. So you'll have to fucking bear with me until that day comes.&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;EDIT: Here's more coming your way.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I feel utterly ridiculous wearing this shitty flu mask which actually makes my cough worse. I can feel that fever coming back, and perhaps I'd have to drink Paracetamol again. I also have to take these colourful pills which come in combinations of yellow and blue and pink and blue. I also took a tablet of Phlanax this morning, 2 tablets of Vitamin C (500 mg each), a tablet Bio-Flu, a caplet of Robitussin, and a tablet of Zinc. All these for a girl who cannot even swallow without immeasurable amounts of water, and a mouthful of food which serve as a distraction for my gag-reflex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;How life becomes so shitty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So apparently, I have to self-incubate for 5-7 days. As much as I'd love this back in high school, as of right now, I am dreading this. Imagine a week piled of homework, missed quizzes, and a week-worth of photocopies for notes just to catch up. What great timing does the Lord give me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;But I did get lots of support from the bitches of my life, Nana, Li, Dren, Mich, and everyone else. Yes, my love, you too are my bitch. THAT IS IF YOU PRAYED FOR ME AND EVEN SHOWED SOME CONCERN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Okay, I can feel that fever coming back. Oh shit. Fucking shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Nevertheless, I have 5 days worth of absences. Fuck this, I'm staying online.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;If I'm not mistaken, I did ask the Lord to give me a fever back in high school. I never got it. Once again, I failed to have conveyed any meaning and life lessons in this entry. But if it makes you feel better, I've learned to be careful what you wish for. Really. The quote does fucking make sense.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6012774329903932974-8365625480111637463?l=heroineheroin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/feeds/8365625480111637463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/mum-thinks-i-have-swine-flu_28.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/8365625480111637463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/8365625480111637463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/mum-thinks-i-have-swine-flu_28.html' title='RELAX, EINSTEIN'/><author><name>Ceri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01185947258905878996</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-6012774329903932974.post-8425310554910388376</id><published>2009-06-28T08:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T22:06:43.514-07:00</updated><title type='text'>MUM THINKS I HAVE SWINE FLU</title><content type='html'>And somehow, I think so too. I do hope I didn't get other people sick. I guess I am unable to go to school tomorrow--&lt;i&gt;so much for a squeaky clean college record.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I currently have a sore throat, cough (with phlegm), and an unstable fever. Other symptoms include nausea and muscle pain. All of the above I currently have right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I feel a bit scared, perhaps I &lt;i&gt;might&lt;/i&gt; die, but despite the fact that I swear too much, I think my record is somewhat squeaky clean. I don't think the Lord will let me die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Or maybe I'd be the next person in the obituary, name plastered on paper to be forgotten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Mum said we're going to the RITM (?) what ever that is--to get checked for the Swine Flu. Part of me actually wants to get checked up so that I can get this fucking over with, but another part of me is actually just scared for those fuckers you call nurses might get my blood via needle or maybe inject me (that would make me feel even more worse.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Either way, I may be nobody to you, or this may be just a blog you happen to stumble upon, but I still hope you'd pray for me. I might sound like a pussy, but I really just want to get better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'd like to congratulate the people out there who finally embraced humanity. The people who got hurt, received their first kiss, fell in love, and got rejected. I may sound like a retard right now, and you may not be able to understand what I am droning on about, but if &lt;i&gt;you&lt;/i&gt; are able to understand and read this, I congratulate you. You are finally human, or to be more specific, a man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6012774329903932974-8425310554910388376?l=heroineheroin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/feeds/8425310554910388376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/mum-thinks-i-have-swine-flu.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/8425310554910388376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/8425310554910388376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/mum-thinks-i-have-swine-flu.html' title='MUM THINKS I HAVE SWINE FLU'/><author><name>Ceri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01185947258905878996</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-6012774329903932974.post-5761213758300434656</id><published>2009-06-28T08:29:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T22:05:40.166-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A TRIBUTE TO THE KING</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/msqfQpoFTYk&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/msqfQpoFTYk&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Along with many of the celebrities who spoke above, this song has got to be my most favourite song as a child, and will always be my favourite song of Michael Jackson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;As a child, I didn't have much friends, I never had a mouse like in the movie, "Ben". I only had a stuffed toy as it was the only one that could &lt;i&gt;understand&lt;/i&gt; me. (I spoke Japanese at the time). My mum used to sing this song to me all the time when my neighbors would tease me as I couldn't speak Tagalog and my L's were R's. I cried a lot, and the song comforted me. And with that song, &lt;i&gt;Pippo&lt;/i&gt; (my stuffed toy given to me &lt;b&gt;before&lt;/b&gt; I was born) I felt closer to him and I never felt alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am currently sixteen, turning seventeen, and I still cry to Michael Jackson's "Ben". Call me a pussy, but you'd just sound ridiculous for I do have one. Dear Michael Jackson, thank you for making half of the sixteen years of my life worthwhile. You will forever be loved and remembered.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6012774329903932974-5761213758300434656?l=heroineheroin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/feeds/5761213758300434656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/tribute-to-king.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/5761213758300434656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/5761213758300434656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/tribute-to-king.html' title='A TRIBUTE TO THE KING'/><author><name>Ceri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01185947258905878996</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-6012774329903932974.post-3333977220519779934</id><published>2009-06-28T08:29:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T22:04:51.792-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HELLO, UST</title><content type='html'>I managed to wiggle my way into blogger. Although I cannot stay as I have another class. :&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;EDIT: Okay I'm at Li's now, fuck not being able to find internet. I ALWAYS MANAGE TO WIGGLE MYSELF INTO THE NET HOHOHO.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow, Li and I are going to my house tomorrow. The never-ending sleepover continues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Today, I went to DLSC's acquaintance party, after that, was the &lt;i&gt;'after party'&lt;/i&gt; which was heaps of fun. And as much as I'd hate to admit it, I really did miss him. Seeing that face today, fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I think that it is beyond my capabilities to actually think straight and to type clearly. Good night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6012774329903932974-3333977220519779934?l=heroineheroin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/feeds/3333977220519779934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/hello-ust.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/3333977220519779934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/3333977220519779934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/hello-ust.html' title='HELLO, UST'/><author><name>Ceri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01185947258905878996</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-6012774329903932974.post-190995249466298030</id><published>2009-06-28T08:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T22:04:24.242-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GOOD NIGHT, SUNSHINE</title><content type='html'>I won't be able to post tomorrow. Or rather, tonight--since I'm going to a party. But either way, I just had realisation. &lt;b&gt;I want to go home.&lt;/b&gt; After reading my previous post, I realised how far I am from home, how much I wanted to hug my mum, harrass my dog, and annoy my maid. I miss them all so much, that I can't even deal with my problems as mature-ly as I used to. Call me a fucking wimp, but at least I'd actually admit that I'm homesick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;As awkward as it may be at times, I really do find it nice that Mrs. Badar is here. But I do envy Li, she has her mum around 24/7, doing the errands that &lt;i&gt;she&lt;/i&gt; as a college student should be doing alone, but isn't. I guess Mrs. Badar isn't ready to give Li up just yet. I find it nice though, but I know that my mum would never do that for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;My mum is someone who told me right from the beginning, &lt;i&gt;"I want you to learn to stand alone."&lt;/i&gt; And she did make me stand alone. In a matter of days, she let me go, hardly even calling me every hour as she did the first day we parted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I miss Nana, that funny face that looks like Selena Gomez. Nana who harrasses Barney her singing stuffed toy as she has become tired of her other stuffed toy (the one with no ears). Nana who tries her very best to 'defeat' that ball that resembles those balls from the &lt;i&gt;colourful ball pool in McDonalds&lt;/i&gt;--but really just couldn't. I admire her perseverance though, as she does this every night. *follow follow ball tries to bite cannot bite, etc.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;And my maid, Marissa. She's been with us (my mum and I) ever since I moved to the Philippines. She's been with us through the times that my mum was single to the time she got married (again), and back to where we started. Although she has her mood swings, I really do miss her cooking and her laundry. I want nice smelling towels, not the *use-this-towel-for-one-week* towel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I miss my bed and the television, but most of all, sleeping with Nana and mum on that little bed we prefer as opposed to our queen sized beds. The smaller, the snugglier (?!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now this is a rant, I've no moral lesson to convey. But I hope you still read it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thanks, I feel better now. Finally signing off. Good night, my sunshine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6012774329903932974-190995249466298030?l=heroineheroin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/feeds/190995249466298030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/good-night-sunshine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/190995249466298030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/190995249466298030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/good-night-sunshine.html' title='GOOD NIGHT, SUNSHINE'/><author><name>Ceri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01185947258905878996</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-6012774329903932974.post-1221989096112228507</id><published>2009-06-28T08:28:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T22:01:55.194-07:00</updated><title type='text'>YOU CALL THE SHOTS TONIGHT</title><content type='html'>As soon as I left Wendy's, I've been coughing non-stop. On the positive side, since I can feel (and taste) phlegm, at least I know I don't have AH1N1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I finally found my own clique. Desa--this pretty girl from my class, Jehlaine--a somewhat-lesbian, Kumiko--the person I've always hung out with, and Cookie--this ball of happiness and is really like Marnie (from St. Scho).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Desa, Jehlaine, Kumiko, Evan--this guy who apparently likes me (ha ha), and I ate at Wendy's for dinner. Fuck, we found out that the baked potato cost motherfucking 90 pesos. (BEFORE I CLEARLY REMEMBER IT WAS WAAAAAAAAAY CHEAPER.) Either way, I got a cheeseburger, a baked potato, and yeah, a drink. Fuck this, to make things short, I had dinner with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Tonight, I had a good, long cry. Funny thing is, at first I didn't even know why. I just thought, hey, since Mrs. Badar went out to pick Li up at school, why don't I start flooding the apartment with all the heavy emotions I've been having troubles with since last night. I cried, really loud. You know when you open your mouth and you start crying out loud? Yeah. Surprisingly, I didn't even let out a single cuss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I was told by a friend today, &lt;i&gt;"I feel like mom expects too much from me. Like she needs me and bro to grow up quickly because life is hard and perseverance is the key and you can't just think about yourself because other people care about you and you can't be selfish enough to just do the things you want."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;And although I don't have a sibling, I can relate. My mum and I left japan at a very early age. She had a career back then and then married another man, but the asshole kicked us out and here she is, groveling for a job, unemployed for almost a year, and living off our savings. Thankfully, we still manage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;But the point is that my mother has been playing two roles, a mother and a father. And this is why I look up to my mother so much, why I try my best to pacify and understand her during her unbelievably annoying mood swings. So happy father's day, Mum. You deserve it all. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Deny it or not, believe me or not, it's human instinct to feel better when someone else tells you a worse story than your situation. It makes you feel fucking grateful of what you have. It's just like saying, "Fuck, I got no allowance today." but the kids out there, squatting in the murky streets of Manila, do they even get allowance? It's not feeling good at other people's misery, no, it's learning how to be grateful of what you have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I hope that even if this entry wasn't as spectacular than my other posts, you'd still find it inspiring in a 'fuck-I'm-fucking-inspired' way. Ha ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;And before I bid my tonight's farewell, I shall show you a video I sent to my YM list last night which apparently none of you fuckers watched.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OM_soUJ9In0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OM_soUJ9In0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6012774329903932974-1221989096112228507?l=heroineheroin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/feeds/1221989096112228507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/you-call-shots-tonight.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/1221989096112228507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/1221989096112228507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/you-call-shots-tonight.html' title='YOU CALL THE SHOTS TONIGHT'/><author><name>Ceri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01185947258905878996</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-6012774329903932974.post-6675678987804875114</id><published>2009-06-28T08:28:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T21:57:58.008-07:00</updated><title type='text'>AND COURTNEY WILL LOVE US</title><content type='html'>I find it so rude when people just fucking ruin your morning with all the bullshit from the other day, the other night, or just some pointless bullshit not even worth talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Also, as much as I &lt;i&gt;love&lt;/i&gt; receiving texts, &lt;strike&gt;sometimes&lt;/strike&gt; no, most of the time, their group messages just really are... filling up my fucking inbox. I mean, if they have so much time to tell us their life story via text, why not just BLOG it. So people can read it at their own pace, and with their consent. I mean, really. In a week, my inbox was filled with 500-600 messages (take note that this is only a fucking thursday).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Another item what I do not understand is why they have to type like this, &lt;i&gt;"Go0D Mowning p0h,,,"&lt;/i&gt; or like this, &lt;i&gt;"xA NaLang p0hh.,."&lt;/i&gt; I would understand if you really had such a hard time in spelling your tagalog and english, but these people are fucking Journalism major students--people who we would be watching on tv, people who will be writing for our newspaper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So tell me, how in the fucking world will these people be able to &lt;b&gt;hone and practice&lt;/b&gt; their so-called 'skills' when they can't even type a proper sentence. Fuck me if I'm wrong, but whether or not it's &lt;b&gt;just&lt;/b&gt; text or &lt;b&gt;friendster, facebook, etc.&lt;/b&gt; your mind will be used to this. You &lt;i&gt;will&lt;/i&gt; end up screwing your term paper at least once because you were too busy &lt;i&gt;t3xtiNg LyK DiS&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So a little advice for not only those Journalism majors out there, but also people from the AB section, no, in fact PEOPLE IN MOTHERFUCKING COLLEGE--should start practicing texting and typing decently. It really is for your own good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;And if you're about to tell me your wimpy bullshit about, "What about you? You don't type decently, you keep cussing in every sentence of your shitty-ass blog." Well, &lt;b&gt;you haven't seen me &lt;i&gt;really&lt;/i&gt; write seriously.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Either way, if you want to try me, my grammar, and my "sPeLL!nG,,," then &lt;b&gt;go&lt;/b&gt;. I fucking dare you. I'll prove you wrong, once, twice, even thrice. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I have class at 1 pm once again, and it is currently 11:13. I'd love to post this up on my blog, but seeing that &lt;i&gt;princess&lt;/i&gt; and her router are not plugged in, I'd have to deal with this notepad. Li's bed hasn't been made, and neither is mine. Such a comfortable sight. I actually do like it when I see my things messy in this apartment. It feels just like home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;EDIT:&lt;/b&gt; PRINCESS IS HERE. HAPPY READING. &lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6012774329903932974-6675678987804875114?l=heroineheroin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/feeds/6675678987804875114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/and-courtney-will-love-us.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/6675678987804875114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/6675678987804875114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/and-courtney-will-love-us.html' title='AND COURTNEY WILL LOVE US'/><author><name>Ceri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01185947258905878996</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-6012774329903932974.post-2807960946468483915</id><published>2009-06-28T08:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T21:55:03.765-07:00</updated><title type='text'>INTOXICATION AT ITS BEST</title><content type='html'>People would say 'at last'. But it was wrong of me to take that away from you, no, it was wrong of me to do that in the first place. Although everybody has that concept that &lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt; would happen, I don't think it was the right time yet. You weren't ready, and I know you weren't. But what can I say? I'd have to blame it on the alcohol. We should have waited, prepared, but we didn't. Rather, I didn't. And for this, I'm sorry. Right now, after tonight, we would have to halt everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So for all the people out there, please wait, don't jump into things you're not ready to do. Don't do it like how I did, letting alcohol take advantage of your sanity. Think twice before doing anything. Don't judge me, did I say anything? Did I put any fucking details? No, I didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;This should apply to anything, actually. Whether you accepting a responsibility, or idk. Maybe mine was just a bit too specific. I hope you guys all learn a valuable lesson from what I did tonight. I know I did, a punch in the gut is what I got.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;You should know me better when I'm just ranting, making up stuff, or just telling the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;What do you think?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6012774329903932974-2807960946468483915?l=heroineheroin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/feeds/2807960946468483915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/intoxication-at-its-best.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/2807960946468483915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/2807960946468483915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/intoxication-at-its-best.html' title='INTOXICATION AT ITS BEST'/><author><name>Ceri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01185947258905878996</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-6012774329903932974.post-5279696629509568220</id><published>2009-06-28T08:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T21:52:16.064-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NIGHTMARES ARE FOR PEOPLE WITH SPUNK</title><content type='html'>I had the weirdest fucking dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Apparently, Ram and Rica backpacked to my house, etc. DO NOT WANT TO DIVULGE INTO DETAILS PLEASE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Anyway, we don't have any class today. Will post more later as I just woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;EDIT: OKAY I'M BACK. MORE AFTER THIS. :&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;There's a song that goes, "I'll swim the ocean for you, Kelsey." Will anyone swim the ocean for me? I think not. And that's just really sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;There comes a time that I just want to tell someone my darkest dreams, things I would never dare tell to anyone apart from Li. But, I need someone apart  from Li. And now I got you, my blog. If you're someone who actually reads between the fucking lines, you'd understand this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;If things would have been a bit more real that night, I'd be terrified. I don't think I'd be able to be as confident as I am to you, to everyone. From now, from where I'm standing, I really don't know. If you happen to read this, I'd rather you not talking to me about it, actually, I'd rather you not talk to anyone about this pointless rant that lacks the intelligence I boast so much about. I'm just fucking lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Time will pass, and we will forget. However, I thank you, you told me your little secret. Not that I didn't know, but I'm glad you did. But for now, farewell, I bid.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6012774329903932974-5279696629509568220?l=heroineheroin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/feeds/5279696629509568220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/nightmares-are-for-people-with-spunk.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/5279696629509568220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/5279696629509568220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/nightmares-are-for-people-with-spunk.html' title='NIGHTMARES ARE FOR PEOPLE WITH SPUNK'/><author><name>Ceri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01185947258905878996</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-6012774329903932974.post-8076030332361427295</id><published>2009-06-28T08:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T21:50:58.580-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THANK YOU FOR THE BREAKFAST</title><content type='html'>Today, I have class at 1. Timecheck... 10:45. I'm trying to estimate how much time I'd take to get ready. Fuck that, I'll get ready at 12. Ha ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;What I am to rant about in a few words away is how I realised how my blockmates have such shallow restraint for laughter. (If you are Ram, Joc, AJ, or other people I've rant to about this, you may leave.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Anyway, as I was saying. I myself know that I have &lt;u&gt;no&lt;/u&gt; sense of humour, rather, no ability to make other people laugh through jokes. But apparently, even my comments make my blockmates laugh. At times I would think, 'Are these people bullshitting me?' Then again, hey, I might actually have that sense of humour I lacked a few years back. Nevertheless, I find it incredible. They laugh at me when I speak in tagalog, 'Ay ganun, kala ko totoong buhok.' (one of my teachers wear a wig), or when I make comments that weren't even meant to make them laugh. Then again, to make other people laugh were never a purpose of mine. I'd make them smile, sure. But laugh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Enough about my &lt;strike&gt;class&lt;/strike&gt;blockmates' laughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I have another hour to go til' I get ready. So I better make the most of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then again, I don't have internet. Rather, &lt;i&gt;princess&lt;/i&gt; (this girl Li and I steal internet from) isn't around. Hee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am somewhat disappointed at my Journalism class. Apparently, we won't be doing any writing. But instead, we will be &lt;u&gt;blogging&lt;/u&gt;. Apparently, &lt;i&gt;ang mga teachers ngayon ay napaka tamad.&lt;/i&gt; So they'd rather not check papers and read &lt;b&gt;blogs&lt;/b&gt; instead. Well, way to maximise the internet. But really, blogging at multiply? Fuck, I don't even know how to use it. Well, the thing about blogging and typing stuff via internet is that I really &lt;i&gt;like&lt;/i&gt; to cuss. It's basically the only way I'm able to express myself--because my classmates are all from the Philippines and most of them from the province, so I &lt;i&gt;think&lt;/i&gt; they might find American profanity a wee bit too... heavy? What's that word again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Anyway, things have been such a mess for me lately. What ever is happening around me is influencing every thing I do. I used to believe that I don't let myself get influenced by anything unless I let them/it. But right now, that's not the case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ever felt like you're not in control of your life anymore? Like you're just a puppet on strings being manipulated by life. It's as if you're just sitting there, watching everything happen. Perhaps it could be an advantage. This way you wouldn't need to think, 'shit, what to do next?' You're simply just observing how life is going to deal things for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's like falling in love. Sometimes, when you let life deal with love (going with the flow as the fucktards on marijuana say it), you end up falling for the wrong person at the wrong time. Because when you let 'life' lead &lt;i&gt;your&lt;/i&gt; life, things won't happen the way you'd want it to be. Be stubborn, and disagree with me, but think about it, you 'go with the flow', and the outcome reveals itself, sometimes you just end up agreeing with the situation and telling your mind that &lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt; is how you wanted things to be. &lt;i&gt;OK na lang ng OK.&lt;/i&gt; Despite the fact that these weren't how you wanted things to be. Maybe you're just really &lt;b&gt;that&lt;/b&gt; good at acceptance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Or perhaps 'going with the flow' what ever the outcome may be is how you really did want things to be. If that's the case, get the fuck away from me, because I'd rather associate myself with people who take control of their fucking lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Yeah, I started the blog about how I've lost control of my life, etc. But after writing this entry, I thought twice. This is just another obstacle. Either way, I know myself better than any of you retards who are judging me by my writing. It's just an obstacle, I'll get through it. And you should too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm not here for an argument, these are just my two cents for the day.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;But if you really need to express your anger or if I've offended you in any-fucking-way, then IM me at scandaledeminuit@yahoo.com. (without the period at the end, okay, Einstein?)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6012774329903932974-8076030332361427295?l=heroineheroin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/feeds/8076030332361427295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/thank-you-for-breakfast_28.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/8076030332361427295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/8076030332361427295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/thank-you-for-breakfast_28.html' title='THANK YOU FOR THE BREAKFAST'/><author><name>Ceri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01185947258905878996</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-6012774329903932974.post-6660221364905163578</id><published>2009-06-28T08:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T21:44:48.074-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GOOD MORNING, SUNSHINE</title><content type='html'>If you've read my blogs from before, then you would probably be wondering, "Why the fuck is this girl making yet &lt;u&gt;another&lt;/u&gt; blog?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;For the several years that I have been exposed to blogs--and for the countless blogs I created--something was always off. It was always about somebody or something else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But from now on, everything is going to be different. I'm going to focus on myself. And as self-centred as that may be, you're just going to have to deal with it. So if you cannot bear reading &lt;u&gt;intelligent&lt;/u&gt; day-to-day rants from this university student, then I suggest you leave this web page--&lt;b&gt;now&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But since you're still reading this, then I guess you're one of the people who either want to read this for the purpose of wanting to hear from my humiliations (if any) of the day. Or perhaps you're one of those few people who sincerely just want to really read this because you &lt;i&gt;care&lt;/i&gt;. Either way, I don't mind at all. Thank you anyway for actually taking time to read this awfully long blog entry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Let's see, as of right now, it is 2:29 AM. Why I am not sleeping? Simple: I don't want to wake up too early as my class starts at 1 tomorrow (or later, if you'd like to be precise and literal about it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ah, I've grown fond of my schedule, really. Plenty of time to do my hair--not that there's much to do as I chopped it a week ago. As a matter of fact, there are plenty of things, people, and food that I found myself being fond of. I won't talk about them anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I find it flattering lately, perhaps it's the way I finally started to show my true colours (literally), that people have started to give me attention, and sometimes &lt;i&gt;too&lt;/i&gt; much attention--more than necessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Or maybe it's just that my blockmates  are at awe that I'm foreign, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;As you can see, this whole entry was pointless. Ha ha. I just needed to fill it up for the sake of a new entry. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6012774329903932974-6660221364905163578?l=heroineheroin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/feeds/6660221364905163578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/good-morning-sunshine_28.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/6660221364905163578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6012774329903932974/posts/default/6660221364905163578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heroineheroin.blogspot.com/2009/06/good-morning-sunshine_28.html' title='GOOD MORNING, SUNSHINE'/><author><name>Ceri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01185947258905878996</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></feed>
