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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;CUMCRnkyfip7ImA9WhRVFEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803</id><updated>2012-01-13T22:04:27.796+08:00</updated><category term="fml" /><category term="omg" /><category term="ftw" /><category term="tmi" /><category term="rolf" /><category term="happy birthday" /><category term="lol" /><category term="lmao" /><category term="mlia" /><category term="idk" /><category term="stfu" /><category term="wtf" /><category term="fu" /><category term="btw" /><title>Don't bother me with all your reality</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/" /><author><name>Erika Amor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XplXtSP5iX0/TwiRwxGaKtI/AAAAAAAAAaE/Qb5cDU2WhAg/s220/377171_10150512226584028_604529027_8877233_205101012_n.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>22</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality" /><feedburner:info uri="dontbothermewithallyourreality" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkUMRns6fCp7ImA9WhZWGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803.post-2996071135061207829</id><published>2011-05-20T23:10:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-05-20T23:11:27.514+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-20T23:11:27.514+08:00</app:edited><title>I've moved (on)</title><content type="html">&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://insekyora.wordpress.com"&gt;http://insekyora.wordpress.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8981217884108143803-2996071135061207829?l=theerikaeffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LuepgPo-G4cykoUE8HfnfnDZafY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/LuepgPo-G4cykoUE8HfnfnDZafY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~4/vTso3QhMNcE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/feeds/2996071135061207829/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8981217884108143803&amp;postID=2996071135061207829&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/2996071135061207829?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/2996071135061207829?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~3/vTso3QhMNcE/ive-moved-on_20.html" title="I've moved (on)" /><author><name>Erika Amor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XplXtSP5iX0/TwiRwxGaKtI/AAAAAAAAAaE/Qb5cDU2WhAg/s220/377171_10150512226584028_604529027_8877233_205101012_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/2011/05/ive-moved-on_20.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0YARnY-eSp7ImA9WxFQGUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803.post-4413063052155262912</id><published>2010-05-16T01:27:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-16T01:39:07.851+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-16T01:39:07.851+08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="idk" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mlia" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fml" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fu" /><title>I can't go any further than this I want you so badly, it's my biggest wish</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;s&gt;How do you get over someone?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/s&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How do you NOT get over someone?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Think about him when you are in an uncomfortable situation and hope that he is with you in that moment of insecurity with your environment.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Think about him when you are having crazy fun with your friends and hope that he is with you enjoying those moments.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Think about him when you are telling your friends some stories and hope that he hears about them then he will realize how much he has lost for letting you go.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Think about him when something big happens in your life and hope that you can actually share it with him.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Think about him when you are making a decision and hope that he gives you a perspective that is fresh from yours so you can really weigh things.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Think about him when you are with your family and hope that someday he gets to meet them.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Think about him before going to bed and hope that he thinks about you, too.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Think about him while walking anywhere and hope that he sees you.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Think about him while looking at her and hope that he would fall for you as much as he did to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Think about him, write a blog, and hope that he gets to read it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8981217884108143803-4413063052155262912?l=theerikaeffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JWvHLNdVITRgdYgKmYOEyZKK2NY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JWvHLNdVITRgdYgKmYOEyZKK2NY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JWvHLNdVITRgdYgKmYOEyZKK2NY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JWvHLNdVITRgdYgKmYOEyZKK2NY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~4/eNZBcM8XYtQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/feeds/4413063052155262912/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8981217884108143803&amp;postID=4413063052155262912&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/4413063052155262912?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/4413063052155262912?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~3/eNZBcM8XYtQ/i-cant-go-any-further-than-this-i-want.html" title="I can't go any further than this I want you so badly, it's my biggest wish" /><author><name>Erika Amor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XplXtSP5iX0/TwiRwxGaKtI/AAAAAAAAAaE/Qb5cDU2WhAg/s220/377171_10150512226584028_604529027_8877233_205101012_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-cant-go-any-further-than-this-i-want.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUAARnw-eip7ImA9WxFQFkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803.post-6334770515042678109</id><published>2010-05-13T00:54:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-13T01:02:27.252+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-13T01:02:27.252+08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lol" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mlia" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wtf" /><title>And you begin to wonder why you came</title><content type="html">Dear Erika,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;The only person you'll have for all of your life is yourself. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Love her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ang hindi pag-aaral ng mabuti ng mga estudyanteng pinag-aaral at inaasahan ng bayan ang isa sa pinakasukdulang anyo ng korupsyon sa bansa. &lt;/span&gt;You are in UP to study. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Prioritize.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Growing up is an inevitable twin of growing old. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Act your age.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;Yourself in her most lucid form LOL&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8981217884108143803-6334770515042678109?l=theerikaeffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xR_F-sUfwc87_GCBFS0KLuAwXAQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xR_F-sUfwc87_GCBFS0KLuAwXAQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~4/x7Lan-w-8dE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/feeds/6334770515042678109/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8981217884108143803&amp;postID=6334770515042678109&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/6334770515042678109?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/6334770515042678109?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~3/x7Lan-w-8dE/dear-erika-only-person-youll-have-for.html" title="And you begin to wonder why you came" /><author><name>Erika Amor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XplXtSP5iX0/TwiRwxGaKtI/AAAAAAAAAaE/Qb5cDU2WhAg/s220/377171_10150512226584028_604529027_8877233_205101012_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/2010/05/dear-erika-only-person-youll-have-for.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEEFQH44cCp7ImA9WxFQFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803.post-4780211366669117486</id><published>2010-05-11T19:06:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T19:16:51.038+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-11T19:16:51.038+08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="idk" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fml" /><title>You make me wanna say oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh OHMYGOD</title><content type="html">Anyone who has ever read my blog has probably already grown tired of my injustices considering that I always go in and out of the blogosphere. But who can actually have the guts to leave this world when you have people like this saying things like these about you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Erika of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/"&gt;theerikaeffect&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; - This girl is the bomb! She is one of the first few bloggers I admired. She kickass because she is such an artist, on my used to be wordpress account, I've stated there that I am not good in ranting so I try not to rant as much as possible. Erika on the other hand, when she rants, it's still "lightweight" (ok, don't get lost here, her blog is not all about her bombasting over life and things lol!) not like any other rants that you feel tensed after reading it, I was smiling most of the time after reading Erika's ravings as it was written in the most artistic way possible and that my bloggerfriend is the reason why you deserve the myfingersRtyping kickass award. (I hope she gets her fingers into working again and be back in blogging.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;a href="http://myfingerstyping.blogspot.com"&gt;Malaine&lt;/a&gt;, srsly, you almost got me crying. And you also got my fingers typing, hihi. For that and more, I am truly, really, very grateful. BIG BEAR HUG!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to talk about why I have been gone for quite some time because I honestly don't know what to say either. I don't want to talk about the elections because expressing my sentiments seems easier in facebook considering that I only need to construct a sentence and the message already reaches all 847 of my friends, in theory. &lt;s&gt;And&lt;/s&gt; I don't want to talk about my heart which almost got broken because I was too stupid and not careful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe I will. &lt;b&gt;In time.&lt;/b&gt; :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8981217884108143803-4780211366669117486?l=theerikaeffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7ykQqVh3mV3vfne2EdP2zHF_81k/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7ykQqVh3mV3vfne2EdP2zHF_81k/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7ykQqVh3mV3vfne2EdP2zHF_81k/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7ykQqVh3mV3vfne2EdP2zHF_81k/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~4/2R61UGl9QO0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/feeds/4780211366669117486/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8981217884108143803&amp;postID=4780211366669117486&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/4780211366669117486?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/4780211366669117486?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~3/2R61UGl9QO0/you-make-me-wanna-say-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh.html" title="You make me wanna say oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh OHMYGOD" /><author><name>Erika Amor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XplXtSP5iX0/TwiRwxGaKtI/AAAAAAAAAaE/Qb5cDU2WhAg/s220/377171_10150512226584028_604529027_8877233_205101012_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/2010/05/you-make-me-wanna-say-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUFRHgzeCp7ImA9WxFSEEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803.post-6114157607246063803</id><published>2010-04-12T21:07:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T21:16:55.680+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-12T21:16:55.680+08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lol" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mlia" /><title>Baby likes to dance in the dark 'Coz when he's looking she falls apart</title><content type="html">A lot of people have probably said this but right now I'm really wishing that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind&lt;/span&gt; thing was real. I'm not gonna delete a person though. I'd delete this thing that I never should have tried in the first place and all the crap that came after it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But hey, no sense in crying over spilled milk, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last December, I said my 2010 is going to be even crazier, louder and all the other fun things. Well, it has been indeed so far. Pictures are not even enough proof. So now, I think I'll go on the other side for a while because I realized, fun is not always happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crazy, eh? I mean, it's summer and I'm saying all these. Maybe it'll happen, maybe it won't. But I'm gonna try and I'm gonna blog every step of the way. LOL&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8981217884108143803-6114157607246063803?l=theerikaeffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2HcJk6GuSaScusPWEREAfu87Iwg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2HcJk6GuSaScusPWEREAfu87Iwg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2HcJk6GuSaScusPWEREAfu87Iwg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2HcJk6GuSaScusPWEREAfu87Iwg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~4/MTbLNRXwFKM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/feeds/6114157607246063803/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8981217884108143803&amp;postID=6114157607246063803&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/6114157607246063803?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/6114157607246063803?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~3/MTbLNRXwFKM/baby-likes-to-dance-in-dark-coz-when.html" title="Baby likes to dance in the dark 'Coz when he's looking she falls apart" /><author><name>Erika Amor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XplXtSP5iX0/TwiRwxGaKtI/AAAAAAAAAaE/Qb5cDU2WhAg/s220/377171_10150512226584028_604529027_8877233_205101012_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/2010/04/baby-likes-to-dance-in-dark-coz-when.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkECSX05fyp7ImA9WxBbFks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803.post-8443549686215717856</id><published>2010-03-15T23:49:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T23:57:48.327+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-03-15T23:57:48.327+08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="btw" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="idk" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mlia" /><title>“What made me happy once, might not make me happy now.”</title><content type="html">Thank you tumblr for feeding my emoness every so often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I just wanna plug. Ask me anything @ &lt;a href="http://formspring.me/erikasila"&gt;http://formspring.me/erikasila&lt;/a&gt; I'd love to answer any kind of question but I'd really appreciate it if people would put their names on their questions and/or won't be rude. Nevertheless, ask me anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'll post something more worthy of your reading time when I'm finally allowed to think about things that are not related to school, meaning after this hell month. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But actually, I'm just procrastinating so...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and btw, HELLO THERE MR. &lt;s&gt;UTAKGAGO&lt;/s&gt; &lt;a href="http://menthol-guy.com/"&gt;MENTHOL-GUY&lt;/a&gt;! Haha special plug for you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8981217884108143803-8443549686215717856?l=theerikaeffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mVfzMTGmA0y_obQX5OJckjtMFYQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mVfzMTGmA0y_obQX5OJckjtMFYQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mVfzMTGmA0y_obQX5OJckjtMFYQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mVfzMTGmA0y_obQX5OJckjtMFYQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~4/R4s6A3CmNtM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/feeds/8443549686215717856/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8981217884108143803&amp;postID=8443549686215717856&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/8443549686215717856?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/8443549686215717856?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~3/R4s6A3CmNtM/what-made-me-happy-once-might-not-make.html" title="“What made me happy once, might not make me happy now.”" /><author><name>Erika Amor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XplXtSP5iX0/TwiRwxGaKtI/AAAAAAAAAaE/Qb5cDU2WhAg/s220/377171_10150512226584028_604529027_8877233_205101012_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/2010/03/what-made-me-happy-once-might-not-make.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C08MRno7eSp7ImA9WxBbE08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803.post-1074236426502444028</id><published>2010-03-11T23:35:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T23:38:07.401+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-03-11T23:38:07.401+08:00</app:edited><title>18 years past</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_n8QEECcz4KQ/S5kN_LWbf-I/AAAAAAAAARg/Xw9UABJQRx8/s1600-h/thenandnow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_n8QEECcz4KQ/S5kN_LWbf-I/AAAAAAAAARg/Xw9UABJQRx8/s320/thenandnow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447400603311112162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Buti pa noon, wala akong eyebags, blackheads, at hindi pa ako zombie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8981217884108143803-1074236426502444028?l=theerikaeffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uMnCRK5_6H-7kQw0DRIeJMaZ5JY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uMnCRK5_6H-7kQw0DRIeJMaZ5JY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uMnCRK5_6H-7kQw0DRIeJMaZ5JY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uMnCRK5_6H-7kQw0DRIeJMaZ5JY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~4/tp4tzkF6EwQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/feeds/1074236426502444028/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8981217884108143803&amp;postID=1074236426502444028&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/1074236426502444028?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/1074236426502444028?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~3/tp4tzkF6EwQ/18-years-past.html" title="18 years past" /><author><name>Erika Amor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XplXtSP5iX0/TwiRwxGaKtI/AAAAAAAAAaE/Qb5cDU2WhAg/s220/377171_10150512226584028_604529027_8877233_205101012_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_n8QEECcz4KQ/S5kN_LWbf-I/AAAAAAAAARg/Xw9UABJQRx8/s72-c/thenandnow.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/2010/03/18-years-past.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUAHQXw-eCp7ImA9WxBUFkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803.post-5100469429894776269</id><published>2010-03-04T03:00:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-04T03:15:30.250+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-03-04T03:15:30.250+08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="happy birthday" /><title>I can't help myself I'm addicted to a life of material It's some kind of a joke I'm obsessively opposed to the typical</title><content type="html">I honestly don't feel like sleeping tonight. &lt;i&gt;Yes I don't want dead brain cells, nobody wants that, but I'm scared I might not be able to wake up on time for class &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;again&lt;/span&gt; in the morning. &lt;s&gt;I can't afford to cut classes anymore.&lt;/s&gt;&lt;/i&gt; I just want to write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, on brighter things (or not so much), I just turned 19 people. Yes, I don't feel young anymore as this is my last year of teenagerness. I have 365 days to &lt;s&gt;abuse&lt;/s&gt; enjoy my teenagerness. Yes, there's no such word as teenagerness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what to expect? I'm not gonna be afraid to take risks anymore. I won't fear losing and/or rejection. I'm gonna learn to love &lt;s&gt;someone&lt;/s&gt; something  and be forever passionate about it. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;If you don't stand up for something, you'd fall for anything.&lt;/span&gt; True, right? Found that in tumblr, I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, three hours of being a year older and so far so good. When I wake up, that is if I get any sleep, I just hope there wouldn't be any reason for BVness. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;GV lang tsong!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;LADY GAGA, COME BACK TO THE PHILIPPINES PLEASE!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8981217884108143803-5100469429894776269?l=theerikaeffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AT68gEywWYDfbwfoZe0rLWnQ3RQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AT68gEywWYDfbwfoZe0rLWnQ3RQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AT68gEywWYDfbwfoZe0rLWnQ3RQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AT68gEywWYDfbwfoZe0rLWnQ3RQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~4/e1aN6MFPkXQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/feeds/5100469429894776269/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8981217884108143803&amp;postID=5100469429894776269&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/5100469429894776269?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/5100469429894776269?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~3/e1aN6MFPkXQ/i-cant-help-myself-im-addicted-to-life.html" title="I can't help myself I'm addicted to a life of material It's some kind of a joke I'm obsessively opposed to the typical" /><author><name>Erika Amor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XplXtSP5iX0/TwiRwxGaKtI/AAAAAAAAAaE/Qb5cDU2WhAg/s220/377171_10150512226584028_604529027_8877233_205101012_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-cant-help-myself-im-addicted-to-life.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE4FQ3Y4cSp7ImA9WxBUEU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803.post-8493720371938716848</id><published>2010-02-26T03:26:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T03:41:52.839+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-26T03:41:52.839+08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="idk" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mlia" /><title>Everything's gonna be alright</title><content type="html">Sleep never comes at the right moment. I mean honestly, who hasn't had that night when you want sleep so badly because the next day's gonna be epic? And of course, who here gets checked out by sleep every so often when you're reviewing/doing research/writing papers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I'm turning 19 in less than a week. Yay? No? IDK. I guess from a the-glass-is-half-full perspective, I should be happy and grateful that I have been existing for almost 19 years. But who could blame me for being so &lt;s&gt;afraid&lt;/s&gt; worried of growing old? That would mean slimmer chances of losing weight, less nonsense fun and wasted time, priorities, and other stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Crazy. This is how I remain to think even after writing about how capitalism gave rise to beauty and embodiment standards which then resulted to gender inequality and the like.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, back to me turning 19. I realized last weekend that I have no birthday traditions whatsoever. Is it too late to start now? I can't even think of something to do. I just really wanna go to the mall and spend every single cent of the money that my momma gave me. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;s&gt;Dang it Erika, theory and practice! Remember Kavanaugh's book?&lt;/s&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I talk to myself a lot nowadays. It's easier that hugging four people everyday for emotional stability.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8981217884108143803-8493720371938716848?l=theerikaeffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dTk7jToS_ZsrNY93EuMjQlRpZZs/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dTk7jToS_ZsrNY93EuMjQlRpZZs/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dTk7jToS_ZsrNY93EuMjQlRpZZs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dTk7jToS_ZsrNY93EuMjQlRpZZs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~4/RSd3maQONrE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/feeds/8493720371938716848/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8981217884108143803&amp;postID=8493720371938716848&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/8493720371938716848?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/8493720371938716848?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~3/RSd3maQONrE/everythings-gonna-be-alright.html" title="Everything's gonna be alright" /><author><name>Erika Amor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XplXtSP5iX0/TwiRwxGaKtI/AAAAAAAAAaE/Qb5cDU2WhAg/s220/377171_10150512226584028_604529027_8877233_205101012_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/2010/02/everythings-gonna-be-alright.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkcNSX06fCp7ImA9WxBUEU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803.post-2496282449523154424</id><published>2010-02-16T01:57:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T04:01:38.314+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-26T04:01:38.314+08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lol" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mlia" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fml" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="stfu" /><title>You can talk all you want but my skin is really thick</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I feel like I'm in a boat -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all alone,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;floating slowly,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;running with the waves.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Every now and then&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;something halts my journey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;but I survive,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I move on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And now I can't stop.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I can't stop and the vastness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and the rays of light ahead&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and the nothingness -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;they're scaring the hell out of me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea why the fuck did I just put those words in there. I wasn't even trying to be poetic. I don't want to be poetic, at all. But I must admit, I miss my ComArts days. &lt;s&gt;Because now, all I write about is capitalism's engulfment of society and such.&lt;/s&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on--&lt;br /&gt;How are your Valentine's, people? Don't be such a scrooge and tell me that it's not a real holiday and that it's just a propaganda of companies to earn money. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Blah and blah. &lt;/span&gt;Of course it's socially constructed! The question is, what isn't? Some people just really needs something to push them into saying what they really feel towards another person so let them have that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, mine was, well, sleep-filled. Went home at around seven in the morning (came from a gate-crashed prom, not-so-inuman inuman, pancit canton fest, road trip to watch the sunrise, and a lot more). Slept 'til my mom called (which was around one in the afternoon). Went to a Lola's place. Played tap tap. ATE A LOT. Slept at my Lola's couch. &lt;s&gt;Lied&lt;/s&gt; Explained why I'm always sleepy. Ate pizza. Ate dinner. Watched kids play with a dog. Talked about semi of my life. Went back to Katip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My girl friends and I were supposed to watch a movie and eat at Banapple but they suddenly had dates and I was with my family so no plans for us that day. Okay, I think I just emphasized the fact that I was the only one without a date that night. LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is becoming too long and boring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_n8QEECcz4KQ/S4bWkK_0ptI/AAAAAAAAARI/neDOdzmc-8o/s1600-h/26434_1387717815934_1321737615_31103846_7747476_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_n8QEECcz4KQ/S4bWkK_0ptI/AAAAAAAAARI/neDOdzmc-8o/s200/26434_1387717815934_1321737615_31103846_7747476_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442273116639504082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_n8QEECcz4KQ/S4bWkiyzXPI/AAAAAAAAARQ/9bwCAQiyBek/s1600-h/26434_1387719095966_1321737615_31103874_3475088_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 112px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_n8QEECcz4KQ/S4bWkiyzXPI/AAAAAAAAARQ/9bwCAQiyBek/s200/26434_1387719095966_1321737615_31103874_3475088_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442273123027344626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_n8QEECcz4KQ/S4bWkzbpDuI/AAAAAAAAARY/uU-Opqq6CLY/s1600-h/26434_1387740176493_1321737615_31103953_4235119_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_n8QEECcz4KQ/S4bWkzbpDuI/AAAAAAAAARY/uU-Opqq6CLY/s200/26434_1387740176493_1321737615_31103953_4235119_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442273127493603042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Pictures from the Prom Night we crashed. They might kill me for posting publicly though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8981217884108143803-2496282449523154424?l=theerikaeffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NPfmGGZhuQaZxpJuTGePqT09ym0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NPfmGGZhuQaZxpJuTGePqT09ym0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~4/XbjO2BCAjsc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/feeds/2496282449523154424/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8981217884108143803&amp;postID=2496282449523154424&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/2496282449523154424?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/2496282449523154424?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~3/XbjO2BCAjsc/you-can-talk-all-you-want-but-my-skin.html" title="You can talk all you want but my skin is really thick" /><author><name>Erika Amor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XplXtSP5iX0/TwiRwxGaKtI/AAAAAAAAAaE/Qb5cDU2WhAg/s220/377171_10150512226584028_604529027_8877233_205101012_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_n8QEECcz4KQ/S4bWkK_0ptI/AAAAAAAAARI/neDOdzmc-8o/s72-c/26434_1387717815934_1321737615_31103846_7747476_n.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/2010/02/you-can-talk-all-you-want-but-my-skin.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkcGQnY9fyp7ImA9WxBWGEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803.post-3964920719991389412</id><published>2010-02-10T23:39:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T00:07:03.867+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-11T00:07:03.867+08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lol" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="tmi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fml" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fu" /><title>What's somebody like you doing in a place like this?</title><content type="html">020510 - First Friday night of 2010 that I actually stayed home. The weekend that followed was also the first time in 2010 that I went back home to Subic. My weekend was indeed all for family time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs188.snc3/19571_1198399240824_1253815640_30452853_2861253_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 316px; height: 237px;" src="http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs188.snc3/19571_1198399240824_1253815640_30452853_2861253_n.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Photo taken by my Tito Rex. Originally posted at Facebook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;I've been thinking of these words for a few days now but I don't seem to feel like talking about it - my weekend - anymore.&lt;/span&gt; So what is it then that I want to talk about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cue Chasing Pavements, First Cut is the Deepest, Hey There Delilah, and all the other super sawi songs that anyone can ever find.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh no dear, my heart's not in pieces. It's just that I did something &lt;s&gt;again&lt;/s&gt; and now I'm beating myself up for it. Doesn't it suck when I give out things like that but not say any detail at all? LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I can say here, however, are the things I've learned from doing it. It? LOL &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Magpapahabol na lang ako sa suklay. At hindi ako fast food; fine dining ako, fine dining!&lt;/span&gt; (probably the longest Tagalog statement in this blog haha) Oh and one more thing: YOU'RE A REALLY BIG JERK. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Kinilig pa naman ako.&lt;/span&gt; It's alright though; we can still be friends and hang out. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Just stop talking about &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;things&lt;/span&gt; please.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;s&gt;Dammit Valentine's day! How come you're getting into my nerves this year?&lt;/s&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8981217884108143803-3964920719991389412?l=theerikaeffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HbjLsJm52o5WolsWaYEE2AHJvpo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HbjLsJm52o5WolsWaYEE2AHJvpo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~4/c-xDIRgX6sM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/feeds/3964920719991389412/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8981217884108143803&amp;postID=3964920719991389412&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/3964920719991389412?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/3964920719991389412?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~3/c-xDIRgX6sM/020510-first-friday-night-of-2010-that.html" title="What's somebody like you doing in a place like this?" /><author><name>Erika Amor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XplXtSP5iX0/TwiRwxGaKtI/AAAAAAAAAaE/Qb5cDU2WhAg/s220/377171_10150512226584028_604529027_8877233_205101012_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/2010/02/020510-first-friday-night-of-2010-that.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0UBR3Y5eCp7ImA9WxBWE0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803.post-8959180498329205746</id><published>2010-02-05T02:50:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T03:20:56.820+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-05T03:20:56.820+08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lol" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="btw" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mlia" /><title>You can call all you want but there's no one home</title><content type="html">I wore a  freakin' dress to school today, for the first freakin' time. You could say that it was a nice experience considering that a professor of mine liked the fact that I was so girly today but I can't lay down at our tambayan which is actually, really sad because I didn't have much sleep the other night. That probably has to be the longest sentence in this blog. LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, maybe you would ask, "why the hell would you wear a freakin' dress if your heart is not really into it?" Well, it's because &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm broke.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Or broken? Haha&lt;/span&gt; Half of my closet is still at the laundry shop and I can't fuckin' get them back because I can't pay for them yet. Right now, I only have a 50-peso bill on my wallet and some coins. And I've already borrowed money from a friend at that. I asked my momma last Monday to send me some moolah but the case is that she's already given me my allowance 'til the end of the week. What did I do with the money? I have no idea. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;LOL actually I do have an idea&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I don't care. I'm still gonna online shop and as soon as I get my moolah, imma pay for my items because I want a romper and that dress so badly. Yes, this is still how I think and react even after reading Kavanaugh's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Following Christ in a Consumer Society.&lt;/span&gt; Try reading Nietzche's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The AntiChrist&lt;/span&gt; too. It's what's on my bag right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh btw, I need a party place for an org event on the 20th. Anyone knows anywhere? Budget's tight. Please and thank you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Hey Cupid! Can I get a Nathan Scott for Valentines?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8981217884108143803-8959180498329205746?l=theerikaeffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wOoUVVEvAuuKtaVVbtT76oQ93OI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wOoUVVEvAuuKtaVVbtT76oQ93OI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~4/d2K0kVVPt88" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/feeds/8959180498329205746/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8981217884108143803&amp;postID=8959180498329205746&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/8959180498329205746?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/8959180498329205746?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~3/d2K0kVVPt88/you-can-call-all-you-want-but-theres-no.html" title="You can call all you want but there's no one home" /><author><name>Erika Amor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XplXtSP5iX0/TwiRwxGaKtI/AAAAAAAAAaE/Qb5cDU2WhAg/s220/377171_10150512226584028_604529027_8877233_205101012_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/2010/02/you-can-call-all-you-want-but-theres-no.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEYCSHo6fip7ImA9WxBXGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803.post-8846605108844798218</id><published>2010-01-31T13:18:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T13:36:09.416+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-31T13:36:09.416+08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lol" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="btw" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mlia" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wtf" /><title>Raise a glass to mend the broken hearts of all my wrecked up friends</title><content type="html">Yesterday, I almost went to Taguig without even taking a bath. Guess how the fuck did that happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. So I was at Shaw, outside my building, waiting for a cab because I'm going back to my dorm in Katip. When I found one, the driver told me he's just a new driver and not that familiar with roads yet (and I was thinking same old bullshit) so if I can just tell him the directions, it'll be alright. But being the geographically challenged person that I am, well you know the story. I was actually on the brink of texting my friends in case you know, but the driver actually had a good heart. He told me to just pay how much is it that I usually pay from Shaw to Katip so I saved P50. Bless you new cab driver!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I was supposed to "wrap" my January up but I realized, I'm super tired and bored and (insert synonyms here) of talking about how much I need to change right now and it's srsly exhausting to finish this sentence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;There's only one thing to do, three words for you. There's only one way to say those three words and that's what I'll do..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The love month is coming in less than 12 hours. Brace yourself. This'll be another socially-constructed-but-equally-self-destructive period of our lives. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Yeah. Right.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8981217884108143803-8846605108844798218?l=theerikaeffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ExJ9ba7Ai2rnwAViIvALK6nQB0M/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ExJ9ba7Ai2rnwAViIvALK6nQB0M/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~4/pQo9_2gd8Lo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/feeds/8846605108844798218/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8981217884108143803&amp;postID=8846605108844798218&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/8846605108844798218?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/8846605108844798218?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~3/pQo9_2gd8Lo/raise-glass-to-mend-broken-hearts-of.html" title="Raise a glass to mend the broken hearts of all my wrecked up friends" /><author><name>Erika Amor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XplXtSP5iX0/TwiRwxGaKtI/AAAAAAAAAaE/Qb5cDU2WhAg/s220/377171_10150512226584028_604529027_8877233_205101012_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/2010/01/raise-glass-to-mend-broken-hearts-of.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak8BRH0zfyp7ImA9WxBXFEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803.post-4296092711977624168</id><published>2010-01-25T19:05:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T19:27:35.387+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-25T19:27:35.387+08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mlia" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fml" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wtf" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="stfu" /><title>Are you patient, understanding? 'Cause I might need some time to clear the hole in my heart</title><content type="html">Guess who wants to go home to Subic like as in right now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was still on vacation last holidays, I've always thought that I won't want to go home until it's time for another break given that my life here is, well, awesome. But after spending so much than I should, making the stupidest decisions ever, repeating the same mistakes, cutting some (okay maybe a lot) of classes, not reviewing for exams, and not passing requirements on time, I realized I need my momma &lt;s&gt;to give me a big slap on the face&lt;/s&gt; to lecture me, to give me back a sense of what's wrong and what's right, and to just say that everything will actually, really, be alright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;You should know that while I was writing those last words above, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;a)  thinking before writing for the first time (or not) b) not really feeling the words much c) (but) aware that they're actually, really true.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is the week that I will actually, really turn my life around. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You should know though that I still don't think that I was "lost" or anything. It's just that I feel like I'm going broke, I'm hungry all the time, and I have deadlines to reach. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;FML&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was saying, this is the week that I will actually, really turn my life around. I will attend all my classes and yes that includes Econ, I will pass requirements on time, I will handle my org responsibilities better, and I won't even go out on a school night. Who knows? Maybe I won't even drink this week. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Yeah, right.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8981217884108143803-4296092711977624168?l=theerikaeffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ceA6k-4P0VKxlfb68TdSVPEd1l8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ceA6k-4P0VKxlfb68TdSVPEd1l8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~4/Kf5BGsOMfs8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/feeds/4296092711977624168/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8981217884108143803&amp;postID=4296092711977624168&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/4296092711977624168?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/4296092711977624168?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~3/Kf5BGsOMfs8/are-you-patient-understanding-cause-i.html" title="Are you patient, understanding? 'Cause I might need some time to clear the hole in my heart" /><author><name>Erika Amor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XplXtSP5iX0/TwiRwxGaKtI/AAAAAAAAAaE/Qb5cDU2WhAg/s220/377171_10150512226584028_604529027_8877233_205101012_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/2010/01/are-you-patient-understanding-cause-i.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C08MQ3c8eyp7ImA9WxBXEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803.post-7898696135911578824</id><published>2010-01-21T23:50:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-22T06:11:22.973+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-22T06:11:22.973+08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lol" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="ftw" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wtf" /><title>Oh sweetheart put the bottle down 'Cause you don't wanna miss out</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;You're our best bet. You or no one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and if this one was any other lifetime, I probably said yes. But right now, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;this is me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; and I can't give anything up in my life for that. It's much of a responsibility and I don't like the pressure. I can be the greatest pessimist and I hate losing. I never thought I'd ever be thinking about making a decision like this, ever, in my entire college life. Honestly though, It's pretty amazing to know that some people actually believe in me. I'd always be here, willing to help, but not in the way that you want me to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;s&gt;This opportunity could actually probably straighten my life out and give me structure but it's still fuckin' politics. I'm in college. I'm young. I can always retake a class but I can never outlive a party. Whut? NAAAAT.&lt;/s&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Accept the opportunity. If you lose, well, you never really wanted it in the first place. If you win, appoint someone to do all the dirty stuff for you then we can still drink every week, all night. &lt;/span&gt;LOLOLOLOL&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And on other things, more interesting things (or not), I've been gone for so long! When Jessan asked me last night through Facebook why I haven't been updating, I honestly can't think of any reason other than I was really lazy. Remember that paper that I was supposed to pass during the first week? Well I still haven't gotten it done. As to when am I gonna finish, I have no idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm just a little bit caught in the middle&lt;br /&gt;Life is a maze, and love is a riddle&lt;br /&gt;I don't know where to go&lt;br /&gt;Can't do it alone&lt;br /&gt;I've tried, but I don't know why&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just a little girl lost in the moment&lt;br /&gt;I'm so scared but I don't show it&lt;br /&gt;I can't figure it out&lt;br /&gt;It's bringing me down&lt;br /&gt;I know, I've got to let it go &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8981217884108143803-7898696135911578824?l=theerikaeffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UdyVpse-M5wjtfNpb2BRXIxFYhg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UdyVpse-M5wjtfNpb2BRXIxFYhg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~4/gGRdEBZvPWQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/feeds/7898696135911578824/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8981217884108143803&amp;postID=7898696135911578824&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/7898696135911578824?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/7898696135911578824?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~3/gGRdEBZvPWQ/oh-sweetheart-put-bottle-down-cause-you.html" title="Oh sweetheart put the bottle down 'Cause you don't wanna miss out" /><author><name>Erika Amor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XplXtSP5iX0/TwiRwxGaKtI/AAAAAAAAAaE/Qb5cDU2WhAg/s220/377171_10150512226584028_604529027_8877233_205101012_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/2010/01/oh-sweetheart-put-bottle-down-cause-you.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUUEQX0-eyp7ImA9WxBRGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803.post-3643102597337653920</id><published>2010-01-08T01:38:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-08T02:00:00.353+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-08T02:00:00.353+08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="btw" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lmao" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fml" /><title>Nobody knows the way it's gonna be</title><content type="html">Okay. So this is &lt;s&gt;like&lt;/s&gt; the first time ever that I'm gonna be writing two posts in one day. Although technically, the first one is yesterday's already. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Labo.&lt;/span&gt; But I'm &lt;s&gt;sorta kinda ya knowz&lt;/s&gt; expecting (more of hoping actually) to be on an internet hiatus this weekend 'til Wednesday so yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm actually really very sleepy right now. But I don't want to sleep yet because I want to punish myself. I'm not going to be able to pass a major paper for my Sociology of Religion class tomorrow morning because I'm not done with it yet. I still have three chapters to read, five to summarize, and handouts of theories to analyze. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Boring.&lt;/span&gt; And to think I actually didn't go to school today just so I could finish it. And I just realized that I didn't pass anything required this week. Ugh, I hate that I brought myself in a situation like this. I feel like such a delinquent and I'm just starting to feel bad for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm just thinking about the fact that my professor won't minus points &lt;/span&gt;naman&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;daw&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; if I pass next week. He'll just have higher standards. &lt;/span&gt;FML&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My head is aching because of thinking. LOL I'll just edit this when something worth writing comes into my mind. I'll just leave you with something worth commenting about. Haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_n8QEECcz4KQ/S0Yg98NFzeI/AAAAAAAAAO8/EXFypXQITdI/s1600-h/tumblr_kvvotbUYs01qapludo1_500.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_n8QEECcz4KQ/S0Yg98NFzeI/AAAAAAAAAO8/EXFypXQITdI/s320/tumblr_kvvotbUYs01qapludo1_500.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424059049719483874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And this is exactly why I'm not a big fan of growing old.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8981217884108143803-3643102597337653920?l=theerikaeffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tuU0kT8v_Pnck7j00yPHarFr-Vg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tuU0kT8v_Pnck7j00yPHarFr-Vg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~4/L_1kuJvTsAY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/feeds/3643102597337653920/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8981217884108143803&amp;postID=3643102597337653920&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/3643102597337653920?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/3643102597337653920?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~3/L_1kuJvTsAY/nobody-knows-way-its-gonna-be.html" title="Nobody knows the way it's gonna be" /><author><name>Erika Amor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XplXtSP5iX0/TwiRwxGaKtI/AAAAAAAAAaE/Qb5cDU2WhAg/s220/377171_10150512226584028_604529027_8877233_205101012_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_n8QEECcz4KQ/S0Yg98NFzeI/AAAAAAAAAO8/EXFypXQITdI/s72-c/tumblr_kvvotbUYs01qapludo1_500.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/2010/01/nobody-knows-way-its-gonna-be.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0IERns9eCp7ImA9WxBRGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803.post-3571740815053402325</id><published>2010-01-07T15:26:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-07T15:31:47.560+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-07T15:31:47.560+08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="omg" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fml" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wtf" /><title>Running through my mind all day</title><content type="html">OMAAAAYGAAAASH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got a call from Summit Media. They told me that there's an open internship position for the magazine Entrepreneur and they asked whether I wanted to apply. I then asked when this job would require me to start and she said this month. So I said no. Because I have school. And then I said I'll just hope there'll be an opening on summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please tell me I made the right decision. Please, please.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8981217884108143803-3571740815053402325?l=theerikaeffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DbEhRcQBxAtymzcO3X6-xDQ5bbs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DbEhRcQBxAtymzcO3X6-xDQ5bbs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~4/DLWOxlHWTMo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/feeds/3571740815053402325/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8981217884108143803&amp;postID=3571740815053402325&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/3571740815053402325?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/3571740815053402325?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~3/DLWOxlHWTMo/running-through-my-mind-all-day.html" title="Running through my mind all day" /><author><name>Erika Amor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XplXtSP5iX0/TwiRwxGaKtI/AAAAAAAAAaE/Qb5cDU2WhAg/s220/377171_10150512226584028_604529027_8877233_205101012_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/2010/01/running-through-my-mind-all-day.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk8GR3w7eip7ImA9WxBRF00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803.post-7542140404010830172</id><published>2010-01-05T22:28:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T23:20:26.202+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-05T23:20:26.202+08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lol" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="omg" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mlia" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fml" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wtf" /><title>She wanna have whatever she likes and she can if she brings her friends</title><content type="html">If you are my tumblr friend, you would know that one of my new year's resolutions is to not drink on a school night anymore. Well, I'm just glad it actually took me five days to break that resolution. But come to think of it, today is actually our first day back. So technically.. oh well, never mind. I have a new new year's resolution! I changed the former to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"I will not drink &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ng &lt;/span&gt;consecutive nights anymore."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But you can't actually blame me, you know. I only had one drinking night during the break. So FML.&lt;/span&gt; (Now everyobody probably thinks I'm some sort of a drunkard who can't live without the substance. LOL NAAAAT)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just realized that I forgot to write about some of my special experiences with my year-end post. And since I actually want the world wide web to know about these, I will write about them. I don't know why either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;lost half of the pair of my favorite Havs :(&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;threw a debut party for my 18th&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;rode a banana boat with crazy friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;outed myself to &lt;s&gt;all&lt;/s&gt; most of my crushes LOL&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;slept at a friend's garden&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;slept at a friend's then boyfriend's condo whom I just met that night&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Okay. I srsly want to delete everything that I just wrote in that list. But I won't. For the love of the truth. I honestly can't think of the other things that I originally wanted to write in here. So maybe next time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8981217884108143803-7542140404010830172?l=theerikaeffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BPhbN6ZS-rnCAgf3cXeEWI2MOcM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BPhbN6ZS-rnCAgf3cXeEWI2MOcM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~4/SoHBt-qrDMU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/feeds/7542140404010830172/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8981217884108143803&amp;postID=7542140404010830172&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/7542140404010830172?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/7542140404010830172?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~3/SoHBt-qrDMU/she-wanna-have-whatever-she-likes-and.html" title="She wanna have whatever she likes and she can if she brings her friends" /><author><name>Erika Amor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XplXtSP5iX0/TwiRwxGaKtI/AAAAAAAAAaE/Qb5cDU2WhAg/s220/377171_10150512226584028_604529027_8877233_205101012_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/2010/01/she-wanna-have-whatever-she-likes-and.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck4GQXk7fSp7ImA9WxBRFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803.post-3297162317165999019</id><published>2010-01-03T22:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-03T23:02:00.705+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-03T23:02:00.705+08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mlia" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fml" /><title>I can't seem to find somebody to love Is there somebody who still believes in love</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;For you I gave my heart and turn my back against the world..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOL Anyone who's reading this post would probably think that I am a) in love b) on the edge of falling in love or (if you've been reading my older blogs) c) playing random stuff on my itunes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways..&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I go back to reality; anyone wanna come with? Or can you people like face it for me? Haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going back to Katipunan is both a good and a bad thing for me. Good because I get my old (and at some level, real) life back! &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Freedom and independence, I missed you my babies.&lt;/span&gt; And of course, I missed my crazier than the crazy bus friends too. But it's also a bad thing because, yes, reality means I have to actually go to school and do boring, erm I mean, school stuff again. Which isn't supposed to be a bad thing since in the first place, I go to the Metro to study. WTF&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Professors left &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;a bunch&lt;/span&gt; of stuff to do for the break and I have to cram &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;all &lt;/span&gt;of it this week. At least I actually got some rest and had a nice vacation. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. I just can't really wait to say THANK GOD IS FRIDAY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fucked my links up  so they're gone now but I swear I'm putting them back.. ASAP.&lt;br /&gt;Oh btw, you can follow me at http://erikasila.tumblr.com :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8981217884108143803-3297162317165999019?l=theerikaeffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/z0gW05uhD6fwRyLb467reiRCIkw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/z0gW05uhD6fwRyLb467reiRCIkw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~4/8cYu7p_yNDc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/feeds/5661680415854615759/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8981217884108143803&amp;postID=5661680415854615759&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/5661680415854615759?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8981217884108143803/posts/default/5661680415854615759?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DontBotherMeWithAllYourReality/~3/8cYu7p_yNDc/tell-me-what-you-want-what-you-really.html" title="Tell me what you want What you really really want" /><author><name>Erika Amor</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XplXtSP5iX0/TwiRwxGaKtI/AAAAAAAAAaE/Qb5cDU2WhAg/s220/377171_10150512226584028_604529027_8877233_205101012_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://theerikaeffect.blogspot.com/2009/12/tell-me-what-you-want-what-you-really.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkADQH0zeCp7ImA9WxBSGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8981217884108143803.post-8143372217207429985</id><published>2009-12-27T00:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T01:32:51.380+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-12-27T01:32:51.380+08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lol" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="rolf" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="ftw" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mlia" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fml" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wtf" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="stfu" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fu" /><title>I got to be unstoppable Ay ay ay ay You don't like</title><content type="html">In 2009, did you..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;kiss a gay friend (in his attempt to actually teach you, well, moves)?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;feel like you're one with music in a jamming session with a local 'indigenous' band?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;eat loads of chocolate bars and drink milk just so you could sober up and study?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;attend a debut party but it started late and you already have something planned for the night so you had to leave even before the party started?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;see a friend cry all of a sudden because of.. never mind?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;bond with orphanage kids and let them use your camera until it's full of chocolate and greasy?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;celebrate your actual birthday by playing rockband and eating loads of fastfood?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;pass out for the first time in your life ever?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;wake up with your own puke as your pillow and no memory of the night that passed?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;worry about failing NSTP?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;meet new people and have, umm, great (and not-so-great) moments with them while your systems are loaded with alcohol?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;ask a guy out and then during the date itself you ambushed him into going to a friend's house party?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;drink too much for two consecutive days with two different groups of friends that you were actually sober for the whole summer?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;make loads of music videos with your girl friends while they were cramming for a report the next day after a party you just attended?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;dance your heart out in a stage you've always been familiar with?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;actually let yourself be a pellet of capitalism and forget about what you know about the system which sucks big time?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;receive your first hard-earned cash of P800?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;kiss your long time and forever girl friend on the lip just because?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;meet the alumni of your beloved org and from their experiences, you realized that you may have a future after all?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;attend a grand clan reunion and had one of the best days/nights of your year?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;party the eve of Ondoy's wrath not knowing that there was actually a coming storm?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;struggle to go home while Ondoy is flooding the streets of Cubao, Katipunan, and everywhere else?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;miss your high school barkada too much?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;have too much alcohol on an org event that you can't show your face to the world since it's so red?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;watch Katy Perry's concert and see her a meter away from you partying at Encore?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;try to escape reality?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;have a shirt with your name made for you?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;pass out again after months of not passing out while you're with a great group of guys and girls?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;play along the Blue Bridge with your friends which made the security guard think that you were actually being robbed or something?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;spend an afternoon with street kids?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;have three epic nights with the most fun people you've ever known?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;spend a morning with patients of NCMH?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;ride a car with 13 people in it?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;tell someone you're not going home until he comes with you?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;eat a balut's sisiw twice?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;walk for your department during the lantern parade?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;eat a lot you didn't care if your clothes would still fit you?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;try to lose weight the easy way?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;OH WAIT.. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;THAT WAS MY 2009.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I srsly didn't think this post would be this long so my sincerest apologies.&lt;/span&gt; Isn't it ironic that I'm starting this blog with a year-end post? LOL Be ready for me 2010. Because I'm gonna make you bigger, crazier, and a whole lot better. Happy holidays everyone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I miss the times when happiness meant trampoline, giant slides, and colorful balls.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8981217884108143803-8143372217207429985?l=theerikaeffect.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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