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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/opensearchrss/1.0/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903</id><updated>2009-03-25T16:03:30.850+10:30</updated><title type="text">Truth + Travesty</title><subtitle type="html">Being single has never been this bloody silly.</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25" /><author><name>Sasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14814688946463769806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>155</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><link rel="self" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/TruthTravesty" type="application/atom+xml" /><feedburner:emailServiceId xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0">TruthTravesty</feedburner:emailServiceId><feedburner:feedburnerHostname xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0">http://feedburner.google.com</feedburner:feedburnerHostname><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-1134626903817991538</id><published>2009-02-16T07:26:00.004+10:30</published><updated>2009-02-16T07:40:37.605+10:30</updated><title type="text">Strength</title><content type="html">&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I'm walking away."&lt;/em&gt; I said. &lt;em&gt;"I'm walking away because I don't know how to respond to what you've just said. It came suddenly --- perhaps too late. I don't know. I guess that's why I &lt;strong&gt;need&lt;/strong&gt; to walk away. I need to figure it out."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/eOw4w4MtXojVcDrElmk0WBcz6Hg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/eOw4w4MtXojVcDrElmk0WBcz6Hg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/1134626903817991538/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2009/02/strength.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/1134626903817991538" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/1134626903817991538" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2009/02/strength.html" title="Strength" /><author><name>Sasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14814688946463769806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="08798361113826146014" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-6655807604368465358</id><published>2009-02-13T00:42:00.003+10:30</published><updated>2009-02-13T00:53:36.449+10:30</updated><title type="text">Missing</title><content type="html">I saw you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I paused. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked --- and, I mean, &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; looked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Memories so sweet and warm started to trickle in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then knew it's time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Move on to the next photo, please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it doesn't change one fact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I blame that darn cupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makes me want to swear off Valentine's for good. Pah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0E3sCkJ_4uFzeBBdlfiHFiuV4eQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0E3sCkJ_4uFzeBBdlfiHFiuV4eQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/6655807604368465358/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2009/02/missing.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/6655807604368465358" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/6655807604368465358" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2009/02/missing.html" title="Missing" /><author><name>Sasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14814688946463769806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="08798361113826146014" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-4043191428027001704</id><published>2009-01-26T03:31:00.004+10:30</published><updated>2009-01-26T03:42:25.393+10:30</updated><title type="text">One Crush, Two Crush</title><content type="html">Been a while since I smiled like this. Been a while since I melted in a pair of eyes. Been a while since I thought of you. Been a while since I blushed like a schoolgirl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These trips to Australia ushers in a multitude of coincidences. I can only laugh at the silliness. But, one thing's for sure, it certainly makes my so-called love life a whole lot more interestingly colourful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Re-runs and predictable tactics. It feels like all I need to do is sit back and simply watch everything unfold.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_gqIzHBSrb7SnM8oJFjE4dwWK-w/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_gqIzHBSrb7SnM8oJFjE4dwWK-w/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/4043191428027001704/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2009/01/one-crush-two-crush.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/4043191428027001704" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/4043191428027001704" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2009/01/one-crush-two-crush.html" title="One Crush, Two Crush" /><author><name>Sasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14814688946463769806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="08798361113826146014" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-268676218023040998</id><published>2008-12-03T13:09:00.004+10:30</published><updated>2008-12-03T13:17:48.235+10:30</updated><title type="text">Lightness</title><content type="html">&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/sashamanuel/3078549556/" title="Nurture Spa Tagaytay, Aruga Cafe by angelisophia, on Flickr"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 5px 0px 5px;padding:5px;border:1px solid gray;background:white;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3025/3078549556_abfb6bf3f0.jpg" width="334" height="500" alt="Nurture Spa Tagaytay, Aruga Cafe" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you really have to rely on candlelit dinners to achieve romance?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/sashamanuel/3077722053/" title="Nurture Spa Tagaytay, Spa Couple Room by angelisophia, on Flickr"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 5px 0px 5px;padding:5px;border:1px solid gray;background:white;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3242/3077722053_f7a34c8c06_m.jpg" width="240" height="160" alt="Nurture Spa Tagaytay, Spa Couple Room" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lightness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wouldn't have been the same, otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size='1'&gt;Photos: Copyright &amp;copy; 2008 &lt;a href="http://www.sashamanuel.com"&gt;Sasha Manuel&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8IlbUcZazahs03NIpWTBr0n4BAM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8IlbUcZazahs03NIpWTBr0n4BAM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/268676218023040998/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/12/lightness.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/268676218023040998" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/268676218023040998" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/12/lightness.html" title="Lightness" /><author><name>Sasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14814688946463769806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="08798361113826146014" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-4587654773407377396</id><published>2008-11-07T00:07:00.003+10:30</published><updated>2008-11-07T00:21:36.177+10:30</updated><title type="text">If I Were A Boy</title><content type="html">Heard it the first time today. Loved it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listen here:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/hdlhZ6mmb70&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&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/hdlhZ6mmb70&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check out the &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BVTyLqkez6A"&gt;official music video&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..be a better man. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inhale. Exhale. LOL.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/f8Lf32WkYOSFSuggvj48MB-8uog/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/f8Lf32WkYOSFSuggvj48MB-8uog/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/4587654773407377396/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/11/if-i-were-boy.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/4587654773407377396" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/4587654773407377396" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/11/if-i-were-boy.html" title="If I Were A Boy" /><author><name>Sasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14814688946463769806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="08798361113826146014" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-4448234129475988610</id><published>2008-10-28T12:15:00.003+10:30</published><updated>2008-10-28T12:28:43.916+10:30</updated><title type="text">Let's Start Over</title><content type="html">Hi, my name's Sasha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/sashamanuel/2968254416/" title="Sasha 10.24.08 xv by angelisophia, on Flickr"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 5px 0px 5px;padding:5px;border:1px solid gray;background:white;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3269/2968254416_14dc165cb3_m.jpg" width="160" height="240" alt="Sasha 10.24.08 xv" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How are you today?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, yes. Here we go again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROFL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Omigod&lt;/span&gt;. I can't seem to stop giggling!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3EIWvc-SArG7R3xGoKl0VEtY-uc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3EIWvc-SArG7R3xGoKl0VEtY-uc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/4448234129475988610/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/10/lets-start-over.html#comment-form" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/4448234129475988610" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/4448234129475988610" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/10/lets-start-over.html" title="Let's Start Over" /><author><name>Sasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14814688946463769806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="08798361113826146014" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-4736706933663188614</id><published>2008-07-18T02:36:00.005+09:30</published><updated>2008-07-18T02:54:35.109+09:30</updated><title type="text">Where I Stood</title><content type="html">I don't know what I've done&lt;br /&gt;Or if I like what I've begun&lt;br /&gt;But something told me to run&lt;br /&gt;And honey you know me &lt;br /&gt;It's all or none&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were sounds in my head&lt;br /&gt;Little voices whispering&lt;br /&gt;That I should go and this should end&lt;br /&gt;And I found myself listening&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cuz I don't know who I am, who I am without you&lt;br /&gt;All I know is that I should&lt;br /&gt;And I don't know if I could stand another hand upon you&lt;br /&gt;All I know is that I should&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cuz she will love you more than I could&lt;br /&gt;She who dares to stand Where I stood&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See I thought love was black and white&lt;br /&gt;That it was wrong or it was right&lt;br /&gt;But you ain't leaving without a fight&lt;br /&gt;And I think I am just as torn inside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cuz I don't know who I am, who I am without you&lt;br /&gt;All I know is that I should&lt;br /&gt;And I don't know if I could stand another hand upon you&lt;br /&gt;All I know is that I should&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cuz she will love you more than I could&lt;br /&gt;She who dares to stand Where I stood&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I won't be far from where you are if ever you should call&lt;br /&gt;You meant more to me than anyone I ever loved at all&lt;br /&gt;But you taught me how to trust myself and so I say to you&lt;br /&gt;This is what I have to do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cuz I don't know who I am, who I am without you&lt;br /&gt;All I know is that I should&lt;br /&gt;And I don't know if I could stand another hand upon you&lt;br /&gt;All I know is that I should&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cuz she will love you more than I could&lt;br /&gt;She who dares to stand Where I stood&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She who dares to stand where I stood&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;*** Missy Higgins, Where I Stood&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;I know you well enough not to stand in your way.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7tHF429QoFHMsOgVoz6Avxo-ufY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7tHF429QoFHMsOgVoz6Avxo-ufY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/4736706933663188614/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/07/where-i-stood.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/4736706933663188614" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/4736706933663188614" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/07/where-i-stood.html" title="Where I Stood" /><author><name>Sasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14814688946463769806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="08798361113826146014" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-9062939885566428771</id><published>2008-07-11T13:54:00.002+09:30</published><updated>2008-07-11T13:54:00.673+09:30</updated><title type="text">Apologise</title><content type="html">&lt;center&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ePyRrb2-fzs&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ePyRrb2-fzs&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;"..I'm hearing what you're saying but I just can't make a sound.."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/G2pqXoy_h_naelRKLn-BGx6aO9k/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/G2pqXoy_h_naelRKLn-BGx6aO9k/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/9062939885566428771/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/07/apologise.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/9062939885566428771" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/9062939885566428771" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/07/apologise.html" title="Apologise" /><author><name>Sasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14814688946463769806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="08798361113826146014" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-8281742436248344471</id><published>2008-07-05T22:16:00.002+09:30</published><updated>2008-07-05T22:34:42.185+09:30</updated><title type="text">Fin</title><content type="html">&lt;em&gt;ta vie telle que tu la connais est finie. Et il ne sera plus jamais la même..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/89XtC7j5h8CxVsQ0gJLJUyhJ3YE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/89XtC7j5h8CxVsQ0gJLJUyhJ3YE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/8281742436248344471/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/07/fin.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/8281742436248344471" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/8281742436248344471" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/07/fin.html" title="Fin" /><author><name>Sasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14814688946463769806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="08798361113826146014" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-7879951644315475696</id><published>2008-06-05T12:35:00.003+09:30</published><updated>2008-06-05T12:37:06.940+09:30</updated><title type="text">Demise.</title><content type="html">Death is inevitable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's something that we'd face soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone just did. :'(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the grief ain't sinking in, not just yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another DABDA experience for the family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/A7w6lEBI9m-lfGPsj1SSeDO95rQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/A7w6lEBI9m-lfGPsj1SSeDO95rQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/7879951644315475696/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/06/demise.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/7879951644315475696" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/7879951644315475696" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/06/demise.html" title="Demise." /><author><name>Audrey</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-4309636213023384143</id><published>2008-06-04T11:06:00.005+09:30</published><updated>2008-06-04T17:24:39.037+09:30</updated><title type="text">Senility: A Slow and Painful Death.</title><content type="html">Not every heartbreak is caused by a wrecked love life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fact is, there are certain circumstances that transpire to our lives make us feel insecure, or worse, miserable. There's this imminent fear that gives us this unbearable heartache and despondence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing that I fear most is losing a loved one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not that I'm morbid or something. I know this person I endear most is already way past &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_age"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;old age&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. Consider 70 as the number. Recently, the person got sick. It's heart-breaking to see this person complaining about his/her tortuous back pain first thing in the morning. I'm not really used to wake up during AM specially if I don't have work on such day, but the wailing shatters me from my slumber.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People tend to get sicker and sicker as they grow old. I guess, it's because of old age that every body part begins to malfunction. Bones begin to brittle. Organs begin to fail. Carcinogens begin to multiply. The immune system begins to shut down which makes them more susceptible to infection than their heydays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Causes may be idiopathic. But heck, of course, it's brought by senility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Senility is a slow and painful death. :'(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Worry no more, the person is okay for now. The doctor didn't find something chronic. Now, I can breathe easier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WuDbgdOPsptxFDiILwOesKSUIhs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WuDbgdOPsptxFDiILwOesKSUIhs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/4309636213023384143/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/06/senility-slow-and-painful-death.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/4309636213023384143" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/4309636213023384143" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/06/senility-slow-and-painful-death.html" title="Senility: A Slow and Painful Death." /><author><name>Audrey</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-3537625306866919327</id><published>2008-05-30T11:54:00.005+09:30</published><updated>2008-05-30T13:15:12.047+09:30</updated><title type="text">Why do I watch TV too much lately?</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hey, how about drawing some inspiration from what you watch?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said to myself. I have been spending some alone time lately, well not because of me getting so emo or me trying to fix a broken heart. It's just I got lazy of going out or reaching out to people coz I'm so dead-busy. That's why I need to take a break and detach from the world for a little while. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah right, you can consider the aforementioned reasons to be true. Hence, I guess I got so stressed that I wanna spend my whole day at home, mostly lying on the bed taking a breather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To cut the crap, here are the characters/TV personalities I love:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dr. Gregory House&lt;/span&gt; - the modern "Sherlock". I love witty people who use deductive reasoning (in this case, in a differential diagnosis) to solve something. His immature, cynical attitude is rather funny. He's a mean jerk, loves insulting people and rationalizing everything even the unexplained according to "his" own doctrine. Oh well, he's so smart, he's too good for words. :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jesse Spencer &lt;/span&gt;- the one who plays Dr. Chase in House MD series. Jesse Spencer's such a looker.  I love his Aussie accent to boot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;David Cook &lt;/span&gt;- I've never been an AI fan. :P Yet, watching David Cook perform til the finale is heart-melting. I super love his somewhat husky voice, his "grunge" looks (like Cobain's) and the way he sings/performs on the stage. Haay, the cuteness factor is mesmerizing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Gil Grissom &lt;/span&gt;- I love him when he looks curious. Another Sherlock in the making. He looks like a deadpan emotionless person and more into philosophical/theological beliefs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tony Parker &lt;/span&gt;- I only watch NBA because of him. Ha-ha, San Antonio Spurs has a looker. Eva Longoria must be so lucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, I'm still in search for more series and for more personalities. The TV and the DVD player must be complaining.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fgHk1VoBToZVNjtdpXUxNLq1Ik0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fgHk1VoBToZVNjtdpXUxNLq1Ik0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/3537625306866919327/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/05/why-do-i-watch-tv-too-much-lately.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/3537625306866919327" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/3537625306866919327" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/05/why-do-i-watch-tv-too-much-lately.html" title="Why do I watch TV too much lately?" /><author><name>Audrey</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-5013807695361593465</id><published>2008-05-28T10:54:00.010+09:30</published><updated>2008-05-30T13:10:44.397+09:30</updated><title type="text">Do preferences matter?</title><content type="html">I seem to be doing &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pretty&lt;/span&gt; well and feeling &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pretty&lt;/span&gt; fine after some woeful state of emotional plight. Amidst all heartaches and breakups (and breakouts. lol.) that annoy me greatly, I have found myself a new predilection--watching something worth learning for. Okay, so it may seem to be emotionally unpleasant since the protagonist is a cynic and a misanthrope. Translation? He's one heck of an apathetic jerk! Nevertheless, I like him...like a lot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are so many wonderful traits I really admire. Like, I am really attracted to nice people, someone who can treat people with utmost respect and appreciates them 24/7. Don't get me wrong, 24/7 is hella metaphor! :P I used to be attracted to someone who cares, respects and appreciates me most of the time. I guess I'm not fond of a looker, someone who looks or dresses in a gorgeous manner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got involved in geeks, in Christians, in nice and simple people. Little did I know is that there's so much to this preference that one person cannot be perfectly nice alone. I should've realized to take heed of my aversions. But then, nobody's perfect. So I guess, it's a matter of trying to live up with such aversion. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, do preferences matter? Yes and No. Yes, because I am able to have this cheat sheet, a blueprint that guides me throughout all this dating and getting-to-know-you thingy. No, because sometimes going through this list may be bias. Hell, it doesn't mean that a great looking person cannot be nice or smart at all. It also doesn't mean that an average-looking John Doe who thinks big like Isaac Newton (a genius god-fearing person, for instance) is really a perfectly nice and down-to-earth person at all. Here comes the actual stereotyping, which can really, really be bad and may backfire to a very revolting choice in return.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lesson learned:&lt;/span&gt; Preferences are helpful guides that lead along the way, not cutthroat &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;rules &lt;/span&gt;to adamantly follow&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ouirKyb7Xwe5vxmZ3aJ9eXmcU-U/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ouirKyb7Xwe5vxmZ3aJ9eXmcU-U/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/5013807695361593465/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/05/do-preferences-matter.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/5013807695361593465" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/5013807695361593465" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/05/do-preferences-matter.html" title="Do preferences matter?" /><author><name>Audrey</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-5514462895155544087</id><published>2008-05-27T11:16:00.003+09:30</published><updated>2008-05-27T11:21:32.175+09:30</updated><title type="text">I'm not stupid.</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Disclaimer:&lt;/span&gt; This is not love life per se. It has nothing to do with my previous posts. ;) Nevertheless, it has something to do with a person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can read between the lines. Oftentimes, I play "innocent".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, bear in mind that I'm not stupid. And if this reticence still persists, do you think I couldn't care less?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Try me. I can be a sociopath should you think so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EQN3kdW_fzCH7JCQjUHmiGikxQA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EQN3kdW_fzCH7JCQjUHmiGikxQA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/5514462895155544087/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/05/im-not-stupid.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/5514462895155544087" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/5514462895155544087" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/05/im-not-stupid.html" title="I'm not stupid." /><author><name>Audrey</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-156588397296465913</id><published>2008-05-25T07:43:00.001+09:30</published><updated>2008-05-25T07:43:49.023+09:30</updated><title type="text">Ouch</title><content type="html">That's all I can muster up to say.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/deUV3GbALgMPKxdddkct9w_PFnk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/deUV3GbALgMPKxdddkct9w_PFnk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/156588397296465913/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/05/ouch.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/156588397296465913" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/156588397296465913" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/05/ouch.html" title="Ouch" /><author><name>Sasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14814688946463769806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="08798361113826146014" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-5886563176250477715</id><published>2008-04-29T10:44:00.004+09:30</published><updated>2008-04-29T11:13:58.244+09:30</updated><title type="text">How about a total detach?</title><content type="html">It's amazing how 2 days or more of detaching yourself from the virtual world and the reality can cure your &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;temporary &lt;/span&gt;insanity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been very ill since the inception of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the breakup.&lt;/span&gt; For about 6 months, I tried losing myself and I just got my wish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For about 6 months, I stopped using my brain. I thought I was thinking too much. BUT the sad truth it is, I wasn't thinking rationally because I think too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must admit, I held back on thinking &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;outside the box, &lt;/span&gt;on thinking &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what lies beneath. &lt;/span&gt;For days I began to question my psyche. As a matter of fact, I became more insane than before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now I'm trying to undo everything that I created for myself. It doesn't mean that I'm repairing myself. Being unusually kooky can be irreparable. But at least, trying to mitigate it is worth the effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought that the cause of my latest depression was because of losing a long-term relationship. It was, at first, but then I believe I was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wrong.&lt;/span&gt; My latest depression was caused by liking someone that triggered me to end that long-term relationship yet I never seemed to admit it for the longest time. Hell yeah, I was in denial for a very long time that I was really liking someone else. Why the past tense? Oh yeah, it should be, I am liking someone else and all this time I'm trying to kill it because I don't think it's rational or moral to like someone that quick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I believe that there's this fucked up, sick rule of not jumping from one relationship to another, especially if you just came from a wrecked one. I believe that liking someone involves some sort to mutualism to make it happen. And because, my brain &lt;s&gt;is&lt;/s&gt; was so fucked up, I was ascertained to rather believe in other people's opinion that this person does not have the same feelings as I have than to believe in myself that this person and I have the same feelings. I may be right; other people may be right. But what sucked the most was some pathetic skepticism I had made me not to act on impulse and stayed frozen solid filled with nothing but more questions (doubts) than answers. Oh, that made me a gullible ignoramus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there, total detachment woke me up into a clean slate--a new form of reality--or some sort of my own mock-up of reality perhaps. But hey, at least, I could speak clearly for myself sans being spaced out like a moron talking like shit, waiting for the grammar Nazis to underscore my mistakes. I think I can talk coherently, and I can now clearly justify what the fuck I'm talking about at this point. I am not sure if you can get my point here. But being somewhat indubitable is a lot cooler, laying off those obsessive-compulsive, perfectionist high-level dorks who may actually appear as pompous, asinine commonplace people who got psychological problems of their own in reality.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Py3Sf4qzlgokH5eAIx5E0M-xJlQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Py3Sf4qzlgokH5eAIx5E0M-xJlQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/5886563176250477715/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/04/how-about-total-detach.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/5886563176250477715" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/5886563176250477715" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/04/how-about-total-detach.html" title="How about a total detach?" /><author><name>Audrey</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-4361342988620331515</id><published>2008-04-25T12:12:00.003+09:30</published><updated>2008-04-25T12:23:13.750+09:30</updated><title type="text">When will I stop?</title><content type="html">"As soon I have finally gotten over it" - brain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hmmm... I don't know" - heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Stop it. Both of you. I'm gonna do some office work load in a bit" - Audrey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny how these three don't seem to agree with each other. lol.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7iE6QkLSUqyPbtZDIhppjJ3_jVs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7iE6QkLSUqyPbtZDIhppjJ3_jVs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/4361342988620331515/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/04/when-will-i-stop.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/4361342988620331515" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/4361342988620331515" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/04/when-will-i-stop.html" title="When will I stop?" /><author><name>Audrey</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-1383383810314513963</id><published>2008-04-24T12:37:00.007+09:30</published><updated>2008-05-30T13:17:22.055+09:30</updated><title type="text">Missing first impressions.</title><content type="html">Okay, it's been 2 hours and I'm still not doing something productive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For 2 hours I've been:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Stalking a long-lost childhood crush who happens to exist in a  social networking site (yet as usual, the status is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;taken&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;* Editing my social networking profile. Again. For the nth time.&lt;br /&gt;* Scanning blogs. Work and Non-work related.&lt;br /&gt;* Listening eternally to &lt;a href="http://www.keanemusic.com/"&gt;Keane&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must admit, I'm blinded by first impressions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was fucked-up, smitten by chivalrous, too-good-to-be-true, gentlemanly acts of kindness and thoughtfulness. This is why, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you &lt;/span&gt;caught my attention. I took heed in  every nanosecond of concern. I wish I could have given back the same amount--tenfold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The inanity of my cluttered noggin thwarts and hampers me from making sound decisions and resolutions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am always hit by skepticism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's why, I failed to reciprocate, IMO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss the early times, for the fact that I love being taken care of. Oh, btw, I am still fucked-up smitten, though I believe the amount of giddiness has dwindled since first impressions are not built to last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gah. Do I still catch your attention? Me don't think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the best, soundest, wisest resolution that I fin'lly and hopefully conclude is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;to get over it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am moving on. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what works for me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Avoidance. Non-existence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Ah, great! Whatta lame defense mechanism.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/u8xlwL6Z5FAhSEisTcNtpViksRI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/u8xlwL6Z5FAhSEisTcNtpViksRI/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/u8xlwL6Z5FAhSEisTcNtpViksRI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/u8xlwL6Z5FAhSEisTcNtpViksRI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/1383383810314513963/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/04/missing-first-impressions.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/1383383810314513963" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/1383383810314513963" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/04/missing-first-impressions.html" title="Missing first impressions." /><author><name>Audrey</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-2652466079025889611</id><published>2008-04-23T14:58:00.007+09:30</published><updated>2008-04-24T12:57:28.681+09:30</updated><title type="text">Conundrums. And a bit of kinky talk.</title><content type="html">I know, I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My head's already messed up. My actions are astonishingly stupid. My feelings are playing with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always thought it's over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have this certain belief that I carry, basically something I thought was definitive. It's like, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I don't like this person anymore, and I couldn't care less about that person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My feelings tell me otherwise. They contradict with such belief, such programmed notion I did encode myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the fuck is my problem? My feelings give me irresolvable conundrums, more like a hodgepodge of crapshit writings, even the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rosetta_Stone"&gt;Rosetta Stone&lt;/a&gt; can't possibly decipher it. It's worse than some fucked up archaic matrix-like language.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are riddles that even &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Riddler"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Riddler&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marilyn_vos_Savant"&gt;Marilyn vos Savant&lt;/a&gt; would find it difficult to comprehend. Even I, myself, am unable to resolve it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what's more fucked up? Okay, I always make a nonchalant impression to save myself from being caught utter consciously enamored and dumbfounded. I play the coy, shy, unusually indifferent twerp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth is, I get this fantasy of doing things to reach out to that person, but I always, ALWAYS wind up not doing it. Don't get me wrong. Those things are platonic and malice-free. They're just subtle, friendly acts to keep the bonding alive. But hence, the bonding's dead. It's so dead and buried 6 feet (or more) below the ground. I horribly killed it, blew all the chances and efforts way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which by the way, makes me a beautiful loser. lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes you're engaged with someone for a bit of naughty conversation. Well, don't picture it as if I was trying to have &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sex &lt;/span&gt;using words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just a simple kinky question I sometimes choose to answer (basically I dodge this kind of conversations. But if I'm comfortable with the asker, then be my guest).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What turns you (me) on?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry to burst your bubble. It's not playthings, unicorns, pecs and shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the way a person play with words. Okay, no blatant, caustic lewdness involved. Y'know what's ugly from what's not. It's like separating the grain from the chaff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love it when a person say something sarcastic, risque or generally witty using his own mock-up of profundity. A statement that sounds so literary even if it's not meant to be that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yeah, I love humor. A person with an odd sense of humor is a major turn on. -xx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9Tzl9Om1lJklJmLg7nD3M8Ry-JA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9Tzl9Om1lJklJmLg7nD3M8Ry-JA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/2652466079025889611/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/04/conundrums-and-bit-of-kinky-talk.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/2652466079025889611" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/2652466079025889611" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/04/conundrums-and-bit-of-kinky-talk.html" title="Conundrums. And a bit of kinky talk." /><author><name>Audrey</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-6821854545561936531</id><published>2008-04-17T10:39:00.004+09:30</published><updated>2008-04-17T10:50:14.351+09:30</updated><title type="text">And the prospect's taken.</title><content type="html">I met this very nice guy last night who's a teacher/instructor based in Thailand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is a good-looking guy who's also very smart and loves photography. Mind you, he's not that geeky smart, and the guy doesn't have any "geeky" features to boot (no glasses, no snorting, no passe clothing, etc).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, the guy's taken. Hell yeah, another unlucky streak. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, I'm pretty sure he's lucky enough to have &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that girl&lt;/span&gt; 'coz she's very, very nice as well. We just met yesterday and she already gave me a checkered racerback top she got from Siam. 'Twas indeed a touching act of kindness. :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love thoughtful people, seriously. I mean, I appreciate the thought of giving more than the receiving. I couldn't care less about the thing being given. Okay, here goes another weakness: I love kind and thoughtful people, specially when it comes from the heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They make my heart thaw. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZH7YmcB5dl0Hr_vJZ89nucx1XRY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZH7YmcB5dl0Hr_vJZ89nucx1XRY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/6821854545561936531/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/04/and-prospects-taken.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/6821854545561936531" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/6821854545561936531" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/04/and-prospects-taken.html" title="And the prospect's taken." /><author><name>Audrey</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-4036066829339579381</id><published>2008-04-11T17:22:00.003+09:30</published><updated>2008-04-11T17:31:35.867+09:30</updated><title type="text">Let's try dissecting me.</title><content type="html">I'm ultimately boring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I usually focus too much on one thing at a time, which is usually a very anti-social past time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My precious gush-worthy moments always end up in tragedy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I laugh out loud sans the care in the world. LOL like literally. And, I think it's a major turn off to see my mouth opened widely most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am, ugh, insensitive most of the time. And, I think passively. I hate to assume too much lest it may end up the other way around and I'm gonna curse myself for being stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a somewhat an irrational drama queen when my period's about to hit (call it PMS).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am *sulk* not sweet. I usually stand there like a stone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love to talk about silly stuff, which is somewhat funny (for me).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love cute things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I appreciate people who look for me and care for me a lot. I love the feeling~!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate insensitive people. I don't bash outright, but I try to vent my anger by means of writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss childish mushy moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm... collectively, I'm so rare that people won't care. :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Gjz7t-QTRwsTyo7I4PoyM_xaUTE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Gjz7t-QTRwsTyo7I4PoyM_xaUTE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/4036066829339579381/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/04/lets-try-dissecting-me.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/4036066829339579381" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/4036066829339579381" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/04/lets-try-dissecting-me.html" title="Let's try dissecting me." /><author><name>Audrey</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-6204718661573059389</id><published>2008-04-08T14:16:00.005+09:30</published><updated>2008-04-08T17:26:47.354+09:30</updated><title type="text">I'm on losing streak.</title><content type="html">And who would have thought that such a lady of early 20's could have already been engaged (or married) by now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;could have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I once believed that my n-year relationship with some lad is gonna be my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;happily ever after. &lt;/span&gt;I once thought that I'm winning &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the game of love. &lt;/span&gt;I was so hopeful I'm gonna end up with the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;right person &lt;/span&gt;at the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;right place and time&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, he happens to be the wrong person. He happens to break my heart into pieces. After long, grueling yet hopeful years--the wrong person put my love and devotion to ruins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there, it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;was &lt;/span&gt;hurtful. Honestly, it still hurts. But, I manage to live through it day by day, rebuilding my crushed hopes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been several months since we broke up. I can say I'm amid full recovery. I even discovered I'm beginning &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;to like&lt;/span&gt; a few good men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I &lt;s&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;am&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/s&gt; &lt;s&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/s&gt; &lt;s&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;am&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/s&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt; particularly enamored at this guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem is, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;this guy. &lt;/span&gt;His actions are obscure and his reasons are equivocal. I deem that he doesn't really seem &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;to like &lt;/span&gt;me back at all. For once, I chose to believe that he &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;does, &lt;/span&gt;or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;did. &lt;/span&gt;But, things transpired lately wake me up into reality saying&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;, "Nah. He didn't and he won't. Ever." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There goes the other lad, the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;shooting star. &lt;/span&gt;Now you see him, now you don't. He is very straightforward in putting whatever he means into words. His intentions, whatever they are, give me a great deal of confusion. Albeit, a trusted confidante tells me that he means no harm and he has good intentions. He's just, ugh, so preoccupied as of the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yes, I had a date. I get a few invitations for a date, but I just failed to attend those.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am too fastidious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am too dubious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe I overanalyze too much this time around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there goes my losing streak. In this game of love, it looks like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;this is my losing year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, there goes the tidbits of my story. I will post juicier details thereafter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tata for now. -xx&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wbP0LVvQOkyn0AqwQ4GH6sLI5tg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wbP0LVvQOkyn0AqwQ4GH6sLI5tg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/6204718661573059389/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/04/im-on-losing-streak.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/6204718661573059389" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/6204718661573059389" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2008/04/im-on-losing-streak.html" title="I'm on losing streak." /><author><name>Audrey</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-2788356901462553623</id><published>2007-11-17T17:14:00.000+10:30</published><updated>2007-11-17T21:37:32.686+10:30</updated><title type="text">Happy Anniversary</title><content type="html">&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/sashamanuel/2039935032/" title="Happy Anniversary by angelisophia, on Flickr"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 5px 0px 5px;padding:5px;border:1px solid gray;background:white;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2022/2039935032_6341eedf82_m.jpg" width="240" height="160" alt="Happy Anniversary" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We recently celebrated our first year together. Saccarine sweetness. Heehee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/X11R4xPyriARztIni1fxAHJFf_c/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/X11R4xPyriARztIni1fxAHJFf_c/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/X11R4xPyriARztIni1fxAHJFf_c/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/X11R4xPyriARztIni1fxAHJFf_c/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/2788356901462553623/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2007/11/happy-anniversary.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/2788356901462553623" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/2788356901462553623" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2007/11/happy-anniversary.html" title="Happy Anniversary" /><author><name>Sasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14814688946463769806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="08798361113826146014" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-8187753775235039738</id><published>2007-10-19T21:52:00.000+09:30</published><updated>2007-10-19T21:57:48.455+09:30</updated><title type="text">I just want to be heard</title><content type="html">I walk the streets at night. Alone and seemingly like a ghost. I cry out and it echoes. My footsteps are heard by deaf ears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I even truly alive? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I jumped. I fell. I screamed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was bruised but I kept at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if I am doomed to walk the streets at night. Alone and seemingly like a ghost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to be heard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/btCDXGdSZbxg3EOUW3R7UtwT1oI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/btCDXGdSZbxg3EOUW3R7UtwT1oI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/feeds/8187753775235039738/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-just-want-to-be-heard.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/8187753775235039738" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18976903/posts/default/8187753775235039738" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://truthandtravesty.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-just-want-to-be-heard.html" title="I just want to be heard" /><author><name>Sasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14814688946463769806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="08798361113826146014" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18976903.post-6077679951390514239</id><published>2007-10-15T02:39:00.000+09:30</published><updated>2007-10-15T02:40:51.723+09:30</updated><title type="text">I lmte xmv</title><content type="html">A language we call our own.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!--
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