<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178</id><updated>2012-02-17T05:12:54.361+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cassy</title><subtitle type='html'>The almost daily musings and thoughts of a girl. Tom Yam and Photographs rule the world! Toilet paper too! 100 Plus too!

Beforewarned that what you read is prone to be Mundane. Random. Meaningless.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>46</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-3624711797084286500</id><published>2011-05-11T11:44:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T11:50:44.608+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   &gt;This morning before I went to work my mom said she wanted to use the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The deal was that I send her anywhere she wants to go but to not let her use the car because of the woman. It just turned ugly. When I went into her room, she was crying, out of anger of sadness I do not know but it was more out of anger. She was saying how can we treat her like this especially after what she has did for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She fails to see that it is what she has chosen for herself. We gave her an easy way out but she wouldn't take it. Instead she's eating only bread and blaming me. I keep asking her to go out and eat with me and she refuse to and then she's blaming me for her stubbornness? It really makes me very frustrated about the whole situation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   &gt;When I was driving, tears just came down. Why must my mom have things this way? Why?&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/4563734908049251178-3624711797084286500?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3624711797084286500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=3624711797084286500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/3624711797084286500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/3624711797084286500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2011/05/this-morning-before-i-went-to-work-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-4710122038913900913</id><published>2011-04-21T20:00:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-04-21T20:19:36.468+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm going crazy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   &gt;I wish she was never in our lives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   &gt;Last Saturday, all siblings came back from KL to evict the woman out of our house.&lt;br /&gt;Mom protected her. This woman, Adeline Chin is 55 this year, and is crazy. We suspect she has Schizophrenia. She claims to hear the voice of God.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   &gt;5 years ago, she was involved in a struggle with me and I regretted that I did not report the police. She pulled my hair and tried to do a deliverance on me. My mother did not help me, she even took the ruler to hit me. Mom later claimed that I was struggling with her, and that I pushed and made my mom nearly fall and hurt my own mother. But since she was evicted out of my brother's office, we let the issue go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, 5 years later, she is here at my house, for 2 months. Feeding my mom a bullshit story about going to Switzerland. After doing some investigation, she is certified a bankrupt. How can a bankrupt go to Switzerland I ask you? And also she's an illegal immigrant. She came from West Malaysia on her husband's work permit and her husband has already left for KL many years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't understand, how can a woman be dangerous and we can do nothing to get her out of our lives? Get some justice done? That incident 5 years ago left me with slight emotional trauma, I detest seeing her face. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   &gt;We lodged a police report and still she wouldn't leave, in fact had my mom take off the grill of the window for her to climb in! ( The door is a no no for it is on my brother's side of the apartment) This is preposterous and I don't know what I can do about this. She's harassing my life, I do not even dare to eat or drink in my own home!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   &gt;I don't need much to be happy ok. I just want my mom back the way she was. She has changed so much. So much. Things that we have to do is eating me inside. Having her give away her furniture ( We're going to seal up the wall, if she refuses to kick the woman out, and that was the last thing she wanted but she said Go ahead! God help us.) Truth is, we don't want to seal up the wall. She's our mother. I want my mom. I want my mom back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   &gt;Having to see her at 65, being tired from packing and... she's just old okay. But we don't know what to do anymore. I don't know what to do anymore.I know I may speak to her rudely or roughly, but I love her very much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   &gt;Now my mom is in debt, still the woman won't let her go. How much longer is the woman going to cheat my mother? The woman is a schizo, a bankrupt and has no permit to stay in Sabah! Where is the justice in keeping society safe? How can I feel safe anymore when a threat is right here in my home and I cannot do anything about it?&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/4563734908049251178-4710122038913900913?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4710122038913900913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=4710122038913900913' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/4710122038913900913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/4710122038913900913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2011/04/im-going-crazy.html' title='I&apos;m going crazy'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-5790272140627044369</id><published>2011-02-26T20:09:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-26T20:21:32.604+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Never own stuff like Mom.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;It's been more than a year since I've wrote anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cut things short, I had internal drama for nearly a year. About September or October we were together. Then he nearly kissed some girl and I got really pissed and starting spewing poison and lead at him, and he couldn't take it over the phone, and said we wouldn't work out. And thus, I drew a sharp intake of breathe, and just took it in. At that time, I thought if he could just walk away so easily, I would too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Reading back on what I wrote, being involved with A makes me think that I'm not loving myself the way I should. Because I allow myself to be vulnerable, so vulnerable. Is that love? I'm so tired of being hurt again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;I nearly did get over him until he asks if we can start over again. At that point of time, I was ready to give up the acquaintance to just stop the pain. If it's going to take a year to get over him, I won't be talking to him for a year, that's what I thought.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;I decided to give us another chance, and so far we're doing good. In fact I need him. Especially since I'm facing stupid family crap issues. My mom has bad management in certain matters.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;All I wanted to tell myself is this: Do not own mountains of things till you can't see your own floor, and especially don't leave dust to accumulate till it is visible. Take mom as a lesson!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-5790272140627044369?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5790272140627044369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=5790272140627044369' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/5790272140627044369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/5790272140627044369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2011/02/never-own-stuff-like-mom.html' title='Never own stuff like Mom.'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-4465613891898831750</id><published>2010-01-11T04:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-26T20:03:25.632+08:00</updated><title type='text'>10th January 2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;It’s been nearly a month since I wrote. On the 23rd of December was my downfall. I did something I wasn’t supposed to and things have been going the wrong way since then. I’ve become more involved with A. To the point of being rejected even though i didn’t know it was that at first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It happened again the day after I had an outburst of emotions. The day I got turned down, so to speak. It won’t happen again. I just couldn’t hold my feelings in but I have made up my mind (when I was recovering from a hangover without the headache today) that I don’t want to keep something that will make me sad around my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I’ve gotten so tipsy on Christmas on soju… that it was bad enough that it was the first time I drank so much that I vomitted. It was gross. 2 cups at that. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yesterday, topped it off. It was my birthday and I wasn’t feeling like it was anything special. I had 6 different types of alcohol, ugh. i’m staying away from drinking like how I’ve always done before this. Celebrating is not an excuse anymore because there is nothing to celebrate! Yay! so there’s Whisky, irish beer, WATERFALL (flaming thing that tastes powdery like Chinese medicine, horribly potent do not take it; the guy who gave it to me got killed by a hitman I hired), wine, vodka, champagne. All of them don’t taste too good, but that’s because I don’t like alcohol. Yesterday was bizarre as hell. We ended up staying a friend’s place. More like an acquaintance. And that person is messed up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a pity because I thought he seemed adorable, as in silly adorable like a guy goofing around, having fun. Yah, goofy. Which translates to adorable, cute. But alas, he has a terrible addiction to weed, but I’m not judging. It’s just sad that people don’t realise that there just has to be more to it in life than weed, or alcohol, or partying. I mean, I’ve always thought that people realise it but, recently I just don’t know anymore. I wish that person would stop being messed up because I actually do care. But why am I not saying it to him? Because what would be the point? They think it is fun. And besides, he’s not my friend. And besides, people don’t just go around caring for strangers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But overall, I think when I’m tipsy, I still remember things, and I hate the feeling of vomitting, and I would say out my real feelings or thoughts about things. And more importantly, I become very emo, because that would be when my real feelings would surface. Like when things bother me, I wouldn’t know it actually does bother me until well, I cry. When I cry, then I realised how much it actually bothered me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How much this whole fiasco with A is bothering me. It bothers me that I like him more and more. My thoughts yesterday when I was looking at everybody in my tipsy haze, was that there are so many guys in front of me right now, why can I not have feelings for just any one of them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t realise this whole thing was making me so sad inside, until well, yesterday. And today in my hangover without the headache phase; not hungry, thinking of food makes me want to heave, emo unhappy sad., I was thinking, why make myself so unhappy over this? Over a guy? If I stop having these feelings for him then I won’t be unhappy anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I am sad, it means he is not making me happy. Because if he is, I wouldn’t be feeling sad. But he can’t make me happy, because he doesn’t want it. He cannot have a commitment. Honestly, guys can’t figure out what girls are thinking. If you’d ask me, I can’t figure out what he’s thinking. He wants it but he’s afraid. Then when I take the first step, he backed off. This is the 2nd time in my life that I felt rejection. After I got rejected by the first guy I told myself I would never do something stupid like this again. I have had enough, I am washing my hands from having feelings for A.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next time if there is going to be someone important to me, he’s going to be able to put his arms around me when I’m upset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I got an F for Economics n Society, like wtf. It’s like you’re telling me I failed English. I mean, I put in so much effort in this subject compared to the others. I have like a’s and a b but suddenly an F!! Like wth. 50% lecturer 50% exam, lecturer gave me 47/50. The only reason I’d get an F is that I didn’t get 25/50 for my exam but I am confident that I did okay!! ZZ AT LEAST I was certain that I would pass because I answered everything. Wth. But anyhow, going to see how I can fix it tomorrow, if I can’t, meh, it’s alright, I’ll just have to repeat it. Just feeling upset that that’s going to cost rm450 more. Like wth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-4465613891898831750?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4465613891898831750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=4465613891898831750' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/4465613891898831750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/4465613891898831750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/10th-january-2010.html' title='10th January 2010'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-8695551744805095355</id><published>2009-12-17T03:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-26T20:01:47.893+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Unfair to the other People</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;“We won’t ever meet would we?”&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t know…”&lt;br /&gt;“It would be unfair to the other people.”&lt;br /&gt;“What would?”&lt;br /&gt;“Unfair to the other girls that want to date me but I’m dating a girl that I don’t meet.”&lt;br /&gt;…&lt;br /&gt;“Okay, I understand.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would making the other girls happy make you happy? Would it make me happy?&lt;br /&gt;Are we missing the main point here?&lt;br /&gt;If he doesn’t mind losing me then so be it. Keep your girls, one day I’ll meet a guy I will want. Like that guy Ken I met at Stef’s wedding that was attractive and interested enough. I should have flirted a wee bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, liking A; I’m learning a good lesson. To curb myself and not indulge in what I want or do or say things to my liking, as I please, to achieve what I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Foolish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-8695551744805095355?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8695551744805095355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=8695551744805095355' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/8695551744805095355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/8695551744805095355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2009/12/unfair-to-other-people.html' title='Unfair to the other People'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-6963142303918431759</id><published>2009-12-03T12:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-26T20:00:27.526+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What I Want</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;I don’t think he’s what I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want someone who will love me more than he loves himself. That helpless love. Where he can’t help it. I want someone who will try hard to please me, to make me smile, make me happy. I want someone who needs me. He tells me because of Chi he can only now only love with 50% of his heart. The rest is hardened. That’s understandable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it’s sad isn’t it? The love that I want, he cannot give.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is another reason why I must stop now, why I should stop having feelings for him, because, somewhere down the road, it wouldn’t be understandable to me anymore. I would want more, and would try my best to get it but, as we all know, no matter how much you try, sometimes you just don’t get it. Like my first bf. If I knew my first bf didn’t really love me the way I thought he did, I probably wouldn’t put in so much of myself into that relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;—–&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They didn’t get the butter, now I cannot make 4 batches of cookies &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-6963142303918431759?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6963142303918431759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=6963142303918431759' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/6963142303918431759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/6963142303918431759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2011/02/what-i-want.html' title='What I Want'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-6496715211326279001</id><published>2009-11-30T22:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-26T19:58:32.457+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pork, Carrots and Gravy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;Well, I tried to control my feelings and couldn’t.&lt;br /&gt;So, I guess I’m just going to let it slowly fade away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m at KL now, met up with a friend the other day. I took his car plate number down at first because I didn’t trust him, and sent it to Stef, so that she could call the cops if I didn’t report back to her. Note to self: No more meeting people unless I’m driving myself. Seriously, I don’t think I should be so trusting of people. I mean, one of these days I’m going to meet some psycho and then, my life shall end. I would be murdered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;—–&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked, “Where’s my kiss?” and I was talking about a peck on a cheek yeh, but what’s so cute is that he went on talking about no kisses for me, unless no one was around and there’s candles and it sounded good, until he talked about beef and it was just so cute. No no, he was talking about pork, carrots and gravy. and garlic bread. AHAHA. Sorry, I had to laugh and joke about the garlic bread.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;—&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today my family and I went grocery shopping, and we got the ingredients to get our cookies a-baking! My nephew &amp;amp; niece are very excited!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never baked a cake before…&lt;br /&gt;Does my not being able to cook or bake a cake lower my marketability? : ( Sad…&lt;br /&gt;It’s ok, have heart, it’s easy. Can just get a guy who can cook, I have no qualms about doing the dishes. Besides, my loving raw salmon should be a plus point! Ahuaheuhue. Actually, it’s not. I just like to think it is. It is a useless faux brownie point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-6496715211326279001?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6496715211326279001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=6496715211326279001' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/6496715211326279001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/6496715211326279001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/pork-carrots-and-gravy.html' title='Pork, Carrots and Gravy'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-8943503864576290605</id><published>2009-11-20T16:52:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T16:59:02.059+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I hate you blogspot, No pasting?!</title><content type='html'>Yes you heard me right, I hate you blogspot. You don't let me paste!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*GASP*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;WOW THIS IS WHAT YOU GET BLOGSPOT.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;This is what you get for changing your interface! I totally didn't notice the Edit HTML function on the top. YOU SUCK. NO wonder I can't paste. and you're too late! I've switched allegience to wordpress. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Fellas, I've went through the ordeal of making a new blog because I thought I couldn't paste. Meh. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;So, &lt;a href="http://www.tomyamgirl.wordpress.com/"&gt;www.tomyamgirl.wordpress.com&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Bye now~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-8943503864576290605?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8943503864576290605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=8943503864576290605' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/8943503864576290605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/8943503864576290605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-hate-you-blogspot-no-pasting.html' title='I hate you blogspot, No pasting?!'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-7893655284523668523</id><published>2009-11-19T11:09:00.007+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T13:05:20.752+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Realisation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Finally, the one day during exam period that I didn't wake up dreading.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8hHo-qSvoMo"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8hHo-qSvoMo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Kelly &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Clarkson&lt;/span&gt; - I'm already Gone 2009&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;This song is sorta mellow and it feels very real.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I have decided to leave. Leave the bond that I have with A. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Recently, thinking that I should begin accept that sometimes love just doesn't con&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;quer&lt;/span&gt; all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Like, the distance. I'm starting to think like him. That maybe it won't work after all... I have always kept a hope that it would.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;But when the bad feelings come hitting me like a wave, I cannot remain hopeful any longer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Funny, I used to think the next time I fall in love it would be with someone who is able to persuade me and keeps relentlessly persuading me to change my negative, pessimistic view of love. But yeah, I want someone who will do that, who believes in it and who works hard to make me believe it, who can make me feel 'YES! We can do it!'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;That is why, I should try my very best to control and forget my feelings for him. Because if I don't, it will be too painful one day, too painful for me to see him leave. I am not a noble person, I'm not that big a person to make myself unhappy as long as the guy is doing what I think is best. That's why if I ever have cancer, (&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;TOUCHWOOD&lt;/span&gt;) I wouldn't go without telling my partner. Some people leave without saying anything because they think it is best that the partner doesn't know. I think I am not that sort of person. I'm not strong enough. I'm the kind to lean for moral support.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Last Night, Good Night By &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hatsune&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Miku&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ha4T3ZJwxt4"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ha4T3ZJwxt4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;I don't know what's wrong with blogger, it won't let me Copy paste thus, I cannot paste the sad lyrics here. :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-7893655284523668523?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7893655284523668523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=7893655284523668523' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/7893655284523668523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/7893655284523668523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/finally-one-day-during-exam-period-that.html' title='Realisation'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-2031858462705171025</id><published>2009-11-16T19:00:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-16T20:22:40.639+08:00</updated><title type='text'>First Day of Exams!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;So, today is the first day of exams for my 2nd semester in uni. That means, next sem will be my third sem! So far so good! The only subject that I utterly have no confidence in would be Pengajian Malaysia. It's like, zomg! wth!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;How do you fix something that isn't there in the first place?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;When you want to draw that other person closer but have no idea to go about it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;When you try to have conversation and he just doesn't seem to have anything to say to you anymore?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;When you feel like you're drifting apart and nothing you seem to do is stopping that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;and you can't ask for some things because he has no obligation to do it for you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;why would he do that? You're his nobody.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;And you're afraid to try harder because it might be as you have feared, he's avoiding you. or might get bored with you. or annoyed with you and that makes him want to talk to you less.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I think I shouldn't feel like this anymore. I think I should be more detached from now on and not make myself so vulnerable. Silly me! Always vulnerable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Want to talk to me? Turn me on.&lt;br /&gt;Don't want to talk to me? Turn me off. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I don't want to be convenient.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Bury it, bury it, bury it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I have been happy for the past 9 months but now I must be wary and be accepting of the reality of how things are/will be/cycle of things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Sony Cybershot TX1's advertisement has this really nice song. I don't know the name of the song nor the singer. :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-159577e354b8e950" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v20.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D159577e354b8e950%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331801666%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5AFC0D140883997A830F5B2030732E1E507E4FC4.2DDB84F9CDFE398D626B2ED0254D742899A914DD%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D159577e354b8e950%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D-V_PdZ8XSGYFMMWwGgc1iGofPDI&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v20.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D159577e354b8e950%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331801666%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5AFC0D140883997A830F5B2030732E1E507E4FC4.2DDB84F9CDFE398D626B2ED0254D742899A914DD%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D159577e354b8e950%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D-V_PdZ8XSGYFMMWwGgc1iGofPDI&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;When the twilight sings,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;It's washed away, way by the sea,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Open up your eyes,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Believe the dream.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;You see how I feel,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;That feeling something's just not real,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;We are drifting through the stars,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Floating here to Mars,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Believe the dream.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I liked it so much that I found the chords for it unconsciously!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-2031858462705171025?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2031858462705171025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=2031858462705171025' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/2031858462705171025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/2031858462705171025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/first-day-of-exams.html' title='First Day of Exams!'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-6783098647866652851</id><published>2009-08-11T16:39:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-11T16:40:25.699+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I'm at the tyre shop waiting for my friend's car to be done. We're going for a swim later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even the tyre shop has 2 pcs that enables you to connect to the internet. Not bad. Good idea. First time I've come across something like this. Live long and prosper Continental!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-6783098647866652851?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6783098647866652851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=6783098647866652851' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/6783098647866652851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/6783098647866652851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/im-at-tyre-shop-waiting-for-my-friends.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-600835865214483920</id><published>2009-07-09T18:45:00.007+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T14:45:55.973+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Comics</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;I've recently started reading a lot of mangas. So I shall note that which I liked and what it is briefly about.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;Needless to say, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;1. Ouran High School Host Club, this is still ongoing and is my motivator to want to learn Japanese.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;2. Meru Puri, this is by Hino Matsuri. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;All high school freshman Airi Hoshina ever wanted was to someday live in a cozy home with a loving husband, and find joy in the little things in life. As a result, she makes it her daily mission to get to school on time because school legend has it that the longer one's non-tardy streak is, the better boyfriend one will find. But just when her daily routine is working like clockwork, an occurrence of fairytale proportions threatens to disrupt her grand plan. Basically it's about this magical world that exists in another realm. Art is pretty good, she's the mangaka for Vampire Knight, I'll read that once it's actually completed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;3. Potemayo.&lt;br /&gt;Story is pretty random and have very little to do with each other. It's about this cute little mascot, that a guy could carry around on his head. It's like random comic strips. It's pretty short, but cute.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;4. Tokyo Crazy Paradise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;Took a bit to finish this. It's unlike Ouran, where it's long but you stick to it like glue. If you don't keep going at it, you lose interest in reading this, because... well, I don't know. It's about this girl who dresses up like a guy who becomes her classmate's bodyguard to repay her debt. Her classmate is a yakuza's boss. Eventually they fell in love with one another.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;5. Mind Game&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;Art is pretty much like Sailormoon's mangaka Naoko Takeuchi... This is a short story (about 9 chapters) about a girl's first love. Basically lovey dovey and innocent. Puppy love larrrr... hahaha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;6. Asa mo, Hiru mo, Yoru mo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;This is kinda short, about 9 chapters.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;Shinobu is a typical high school girl...with an atypical hatred of boys. Long ago, she was horribly abused by one and hasn't been able to tolerate being near them since. Now Yokomizo has appeared before her--a boy who looks exactly like the one who tormented her in the past. He's the last guy she wants to have around, but then he confesses his love to her!?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;The art is nice, story plot kinda familiar. Basically is afraid of guys yadda yadda.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;7. Tenjou no Kajitsu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;Art is nice. 4 Chapters but quite long. As in, around.. 40-50 pages for 1 chapter. Tomita Yuri hated boys since she was little, seeing them as devils who taunt and tease her. When the all-girls Kinka academy decides to merge with the all-boys Ginka academy, her ‘heaven’ is once again threatened by the devils from hell, men. Not only that, but as a member of the student council, she now has to work alongside the male student council of Ginka academy. Will Yuri’s ‘heaven’ be overrun by the male devils from hell?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;The girl, Tomita Yuri is kinda cute. Haha. Basically innocent like love I guess. lol.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;8. Meine Liebe by Izawa Rei&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;Art is so and so. Boys are pretty good looking except for dark areas around the eyes. I don't know... it's weird, makes them look like evil monsters. I mean like Gaara in Naruto. lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Erika Klause, who has been separated from her brother when she was little, decided to enter Rosenstolz Academy (in Germany), where she was sure to see him. But what she encounters at first day of school is the five Strahl (King scholars) candidates.&lt;br /&gt;Basically it's about this elite school and her constant wish for finding her half brother. And again, the fan girls of the 5 guys. Slightly like Ouran; elite school and all but there's where the similarities end... but it tends to get a bit monotonous, and grand. Too much grandeur. No comedy at all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;9. Kare First Love by Miyasaka Kaho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;Coy and self-conscious high school student Karin Karino never paid much attention to boys until she met Kiriya, a popular student from a nearby boys' school. Karin and Kiriya embark on a romantic journey despite Karin's classmate Yuka's best efforts to sabotage their relationship, but Karin soon learns that living happily ever after isn't on the curriculum when she becomes Kiriya's center of attention, as well as embittered Yuka's bull's-eye on her dartboard of hate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;Hmm, basically this is like a lovey dovey first love kinda comic la. School life, innocent love, shy shy kinds. Ehehehe, it is kinda cute la. Definitely chick flit. Nerdy, shy girl with outgoing handsome boy ehehehehee *drool* In the end, they live happily ever after la. Sien o. So nice. Different from reality. Quite long, about 57 chapters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Otokomae Beads Club&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever seen a "very manly girl"? The heroine in this story, Oikawa Ibuki is just that type of girl. To find her true soul mate, after transferring school, Ibuki was determined to act like a gentle lady. Yet on her first day of transfer, due to her righteous sense she went to save a small dog, and at the time she was seen by the suspicious "crow messenger"! Is Ibuki's whole image ruined!? And who is this mysterious "crow messenger"!?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's kinda short, about 3 chapters and 1 extra and 1 side story. It's ok ok only la. Too short to make an impact I guess. It started out amusing. Towards the end, ok la. Aih.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;Last edited : 2.45pm 15th July 2009&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-600835865214483920?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/600835865214483920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=600835865214483920' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/600835865214483920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/600835865214483920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/comics.html' title='Comics'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-2922145341720043768</id><published>2009-07-07T03:09:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T05:24:54.958+08:00</updated><title type='text'>How do you poop in squatpots?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I watched a random so called popular video just now, and the American guy who just came back from a trip to China asks, "How the hell do you poop in squatpots?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I felt so tempted to comment:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;To squat, but not to hover, is gratitude enough in China.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know how friggin annoying it is to hover over a toilet seat? I mean, there's just NO WAY you'd want to sit on a public toilet seat because it's so dirty. God. Ask a more sensible question, yeh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;-----&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;There's this song that I heard on Anime Radio just now. I've always thought it was a cute song but I didn't know the lyrics could be so sweet. Here's the translation. Zzz, why can't I embed it. Such a sore loser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dfR5uiClxDo"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dfR5uiClxDo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;ryo feat Hatsune Miku - Melt&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lalalalalalala...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Waking up in the morning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I only had one thought inside my mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Yes, it was you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Had a haircut the other day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;So you could notice and say to me,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;"Why the new hairstyle?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Pink skirt flower barette&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Stick it on my hair then I'm going out&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Today, you will see how cute I really can be!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;MELT I'm melting &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;To say I love you is just impossible ... However&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;MELT I can't even look at your eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I'm not going to be in love with love not me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Because it's you ... I like&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;lalalalalalala...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Weather this morning was wrong and left me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;unprepared again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Now I'm caught in the rain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Could have got an umbrella from a store &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;somewhere and then I heard her sigh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I see a girl leave. Oh was it you? And then I say,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;"Do you mind if I walk with you," &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;as you unfold the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;parasol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I hope you didn't see my face was burning red,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;And now I am falling in love with you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;MELT Oh, I am hardly breathing!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;as our hands touch ... because&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;MELT all of this just because we're sharing this umbrella&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Just nearly close enough, to feel your breath. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Oh, what to do...Oh, please,God, just stop time forever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;This waterfall of tears has started. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Don't know if it'll ever stop.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;But I'm so happy now, that I could just die!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;lalalalalalala...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;MELT The time of pairing has arrived.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Though, we will meet again, until then, you'll &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;disappear ... And again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;MELT Oh, God, please tie us forever!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Already missing you, I never want to say goodbye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I take you in my arms and say "I love you,"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;...In my dreams. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;lalalalalalala...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;-----&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;This is Potemayo! It's so cute!! Link to that comic is here:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.onemanga.com/Potemayo"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;http://www.onemanga.com/Potemayo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's cute but really random. -__- and sometimes they don't make sense too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_x5Wdxt1xNUU/SlJqvPn0Q1I/AAAAAAAAAAo/9PwAPIu8r4Q/s1600-h/04.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355460266776871762" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 220px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_x5Wdxt1xNUU/SlJqvPn0Q1I/AAAAAAAAAAo/9PwAPIu8r4Q/s320/04.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-2922145341720043768?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2922145341720043768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=2922145341720043768' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/2922145341720043768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/2922145341720043768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/how-do-you-poop-in-squatpots.html' title='How do you poop in squatpots?'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_x5Wdxt1xNUU/SlJqvPn0Q1I/AAAAAAAAAAo/9PwAPIu8r4Q/s72-c/04.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-5155803353687152509</id><published>2009-06-15T16:38:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T17:41:46.313+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Studies again...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;My life is full of changes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Let's see, since my last post, a lot has changed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Yes, I worked with that guy as an administrative assistant and my time there was enjoyable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Alas, they need my services no more after about 6 months? Because they're facing a bit of trouble and have to cut costs. Not to mention their prospect is looking pretty bleak so I don't blame them. But it was really nice working there, pleasant people and everything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I could even go online :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;But moving on, I'm finally going back to studies! Diploma in Management. The only diploma available at the uni near my house. Meh, only taking a cert out of convenience, anything but Accounts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;But now, instead of the money coming in, it's money going out at quite an alarming rate. I really hope my PTPTN loan is processed without difficulty, as I'll be paying for myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I have decided not to enter any relationship for a certain period of time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Better off without complications at the moment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I have met a guy that I am interested in becoming friends with though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;But the tricky part now is to try and figure out how to let him know so he'll not be wary or cautious because I'm not looking to be with someone but rather just being friends and well, just outings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;About the conflict in my family, I can only pray to God and hope that all will be well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I've recently went back for cellgroup and after a few weeks I'll be going back to church too. Out of my own will. It's time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&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/4563734908049251178-5155803353687152509?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5155803353687152509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=5155803353687152509' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/5155803353687152509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/5155803353687152509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-life-is-full-of-changes.html' title='Studies again...'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-4371471121678550042</id><published>2009-02-01T13:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-26T20:08:07.296+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Officially Moving On!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Yep. Officially moving on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve finished another part time job yay. I’ve been sleeping really late recently. Like early morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suspect I’m pushing myself to my limit so that I lie down straight, flat out tired and just sleep before my head even touches the pillow. Because I don’t want to think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Officially moving on! And btw, Rochester’s Farewell, an opera like song that sounds so sad which is recently written. Should be recent, uncertain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object style="WIDTH: 640px; HEIGHT: 390px"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OxNRtspcuzU?version=3"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OxNRtspcuzU?version=3" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="640" height="390"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-4371471121678550042?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4371471121678550042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=4371471121678550042' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/4371471121678550042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/4371471121678550042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2009/02/officially-moving-on.html' title='Officially Moving On!'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-6017601713884615739</id><published>2008-12-29T03:51:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-29T04:34:03.988+08:00</updated><title type='text'>:D</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I'm feeling scared. I'm feeling scared of the unknown. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;But I know that the decision that I made is right.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Instead of 6 months, it's suddenly here. Around the corner. Because of circumstances.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;But when it comes down to it, it is my choice. I just think that I'm very nervous about it that's all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;This is to my best friend Steffie. Things will never change between us no matter how far we travel down the path of our own destiny. I can promise you that. Because to me, you've become an important person. You have become family. I love you and heartily thank God that he sent me you in my teenage years because you helped me discover myself, and form my character when I was fragile. Who I am now, is a mix of you and myself. And I'm proud and happy to say, a part of yourself is also influenced by me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I am glad that despite our little differences, we have no trouble communicating. I would say ,"The sky..." and you'd say, '"is blue..." I love the times when we'd both go silly and laugh like shit over things we'd both say, or things I'd say or things that you'd say. And I know, I just know that when we're in our 40's, we'd still remain the same. Because I'm not planning on changing. Unless you are &gt;_&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Doing what I'm about to do, takes a lot of courage, at least from me, at this present moment. This is bigger than me, and I shall put it in God's hands. I'm not being negative about it. I'm ready, just overwhelmed. After seeing Aunty Rumba tonight for dinner, and asking her to pray for me and... My heart was a pounding and here I am... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-6017601713884615739?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6017601713884615739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=6017601713884615739' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/6017601713884615739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/6017601713884615739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2008/12/d.html' title=':D'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-3869512586177265628</id><published>2008-12-10T02:12:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T03:02:57.612+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Plans, plans and more plans...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Ages since I posted. It's odd how so many things have happened in this short span of time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;As for Peter, I think it would be wise to just let it be. If he's not asking for a definite answer, well, the lack of contact for such a long time would suffice, don't you think? Plus, sometimes, people just don't want to hear it. They just don't want to know. I kept thinking I should end it officially and bla bla, but it's only because I'm that kinda person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I have been working as a promoter for a month. My job is easy. All I have to do is sit around and tell people about the promotion. Tomorrow is the last day! Yayness! I've learnt quite a bit at this job. Bit of exposure. How to deal with morons that you see everyday, nicely.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I met a guy there though. At workplace. He/A bunch of partners, offered me a job as an admin assistant. I'm still perplexed about it since it seemed almost too easy. Getting a job I mean. At least this will be office work. :) Hope it will turn out okay. They... build buildings. Developer's company I think. His name is Fuad and he is 12 years older than me. Has been abroad since 9 years old. Malay but looks mixed. Intimidated me a bit with the easy manner of speech. And perhaps some hints. About dating. But I'm sure he's joking. But it still is o__O all the same. Lol.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I penned down a few pages of details about someone that I know for quite a bit now, few months, I think 3. I wrote it on pieces of paper because I just had to pen my thoughts down at work. I am planning something... I hope it would come true and that my life might be better because of it. I mean, life is good to me, it isn't sucky. But it could be better. At my present moment however, I am very happy. Compared to last year, yes I am a happy person at this point. I am glad, that when I am about to turn 21, the point of one's life that isn't to be forgotten, I am happy. :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I like the sense of knowing that in 6 months time, things won't just be the same. There will be new things to be learnt, new experiences and new adventures. And for the first time in my life, I feel like I actually have a plan. And that anticipation of making it work, the knowledge of knowing that it would or should go according to it with time, just makes you look forward to each new day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;So many feelings. Fear, uncertainty, disbelief, bliss, fluttery heart hiccups, worry, anticipation but no sadness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;And I think that's good news.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;P/s: Is it not unthinkable when someone would be okay with not dating for 3 years just to help another person? Admirable nobility, in my opinion...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-3869512586177265628?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3869512586177265628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=3869512586177265628' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/3869512586177265628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/3869512586177265628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2008/12/plans-plans-and-more-plans.html' title='Plans, plans and more plans...'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-8891304270593963453</id><published>2008-10-02T23:39:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T01:44:33.669+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Looking for a new job</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;A little update.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got terminated last month. Maybe it was because of the leaves. Can't help being sick.&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe it was the downsizing they wanted to make. Under developer's orders. Since the title hasn't been issued the management corporation has no say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, they'd have to deal with 7 days without familiar hands at their site because my colleague applied for leave. Good luck with that, kind sirs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for me, I'm not too bothered. Just can't wait to get my car license. Get the dough rolling. Let me inch slowly towards my goal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;SIGH I WANT DOUGH PLEASE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-8891304270593963453?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8891304270593963453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=8891304270593963453' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/8891304270593963453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/8891304270593963453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2008/10/looking-for-new-job.html' title='Looking for a new job'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-5601169621926756668</id><published>2008-09-26T02:19:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T02:27:23.397+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Abandoned Fetus</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Yesterday, I was at work. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;The guards discovered a baby. They saw a woman burying something before dawn, and went to examine and dug it up, and it was a fetus. 3 to 4 months old. You hear about these sorta cases often, but when it hits so close to home, it feels so real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder how does one have a homemade abortion. I saw a picture of it. It was gruesome. As how they often are, but this is real. It's just there. It just happened. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;---&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Today one of the cleaners went back to her village. I heard she is going to remarry for the 2nd time. She is 50 I think. Sugoi... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;She likes to scold a lot. She is loud. I am kinda amazed really that someone would marry her ... she seems so scary. But now I feel relieved. If she can get married, then I probably can too...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;1. She is 50.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;2. She is scary attitude wise. She's daring. If the residents leave their rubbish bags outside their apartment doors, she'll be knocking and shouting her head off, hollering for them to dispose of it properly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;My heroine *____*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-5601169621926756668?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5601169621926756668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=5601169621926756668' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/5601169621926756668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/5601169621926756668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2008/09/abandoned-fetus.html' title='Abandoned Fetus'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-5680095784153690475</id><published>2008-09-18T22:48:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T23:08:55.350+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Long Long Time...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Hello, it's been some time...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Ohisashiburi ne...? :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I have not written for a very very long time.&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps I shall start blogging again. I cannot take holding it in not letting anybody know how I feel anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recently starting working, my first full time job. In Property Management. I don't like how they hound the staffs. Checking if they're late for work and such. I don't know. It makes me feel so hounded I guess. It's ok if the pay was high but ok, the pay isn't that high. And these people don't know how to relax. It's not like the corporation is even big enough to be called a corporation. But what defines a corporation? I forgot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just can't wait to get a driving license so that I can get other jobs with higher pay, at least enough for me to make a better future for myself. I don't know what I'll do, but I think I'll save and study and work at the same time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;This job however, opens my eyes I guess. Learnt quite a few things. How to interact with people. It is also quite amusing. Like some people can be really stingy. Also how to deal with angry people. There was a guy who said he wanted to sue us too. O. Kay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;But there's this one guy I cannot help laughing at. His name is James. He wouldn't leave a contact number. He told me that he lives on the 3rd floor and he can see the opposite block. First floor. Lights on, no curtains. Saw a girl doing it with guys &gt;__&gt; and even asked me if they are doing 'business.'I didn't know how to answer him. &gt;___&gt; Quite awkward.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;But I should think that if I plan to stop, I should at least do it if I am three months into it. And who knows maybe I can tell myself, maybe 6 months.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Lol. Maybe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I guess that's all in my life.&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes, I have wanted to mention that I was with a guy for a bit... I nearly posted about him but in the end I didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is busy with his thesis but I have already made up my mind that him and I cannot continue in this relationship. It ended quite sometime ago... sometime in June? May?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;But yea, we didn't really really end it. We only said, maybe we might get back together. Or rather I think I said that. He might not like me a lot, I don't know, but I would still think it's still bad news. And bad news shouldn't be told when one is doing something as important as a thesis. So I will wait until he finishes it to tell him that we are still very good friends. I mean at least make it clear... =/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;So yes, I am typing this while waiting for '1 litre of tears' to load. It's a nice drama that loli introduced to me. I like singing songs recently. So maybe... maybe I'll just record myself and post it here since nobody comes anyway lol. But it'll be a small little project for myself to do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I wonder how people I knew are doing. Charm... Klang kaki... people that I don't contact with...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Iwonder how peter is doing, how mark is doing... how joyce is doing...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I hope they are alive and well... Read back my old posts... felt emo lol. Baka ne?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I wonder what defines me...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;P/s: At least I look forward to travelling... in the future Imean. I made a few friends from around the world. The ones with which I have a pact... to meet them someday and to spend some time in their country and vice versa. :)Hope it'll come true. If you believe it, it might come true... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-5680095784153690475?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5680095784153690475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=5680095784153690475' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/5680095784153690475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/5680095784153690475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2008/09/long-long-time.html' title='Long Long Time...'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-7979259254270232829</id><published>2008-02-12T00:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-12T13:13:31.054+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Chinese New Year</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I think it was 2 weeks or so ago. I unblocked him and we chatted for a bit. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Me: How's Joyce?&lt;br /&gt;Him: She's fine. Emailling as usual. I'm not replying her though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Me: Did she say anything unusual lately? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Him: No. Oh, wait, yea she did. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;(Then he copies and pastes what she wrote. Something about me calling. But I forgot what exactly she wrote.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I was peeved at what she wrote. So I said firstly, I didn't call her. She did first. I called back later. &lt;s&gt;Secondly,&lt;/s&gt; Nevermind that, I forgot what I wrote.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;So, to cut the story short, I told him in the end because he prompted me to. He said because we knew each other so well, certainly I'd be so kind as to not keep him in the dark. I was relunctant to though, but oh well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;He made me call her though. So I did. And it turns out she didn't pick up. So I told him I'll try again later. Which I did, because she messaged me a while after that. So I made that call with him at the end of the line, and recorded myself too. On loudspeaker. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;He said, "OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. THAT'S JOYCE!!!!'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. A freaky fact of the day. Why would anyone, an auntie, pretend to be someone so much younger? And be so real at it too. So very real.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I was laughing with disbelief. All that drama and all that trouble just because of an auntie. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;-----&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Happy Chinese New Year!!! I went back and well, I had such sumptuous dinners... for 3 nights... it's a bit too lavish when I'm having it continously. I've got a crack on my lip =__= I wonder if it's because of that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I met my 9th auntie. She thought I was my niece. Either it means I look like a little girl of 6, or ... @@&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I wish I had a dream. I wish I had a goal to accomplish. Sometimes feeling so stagnant makes me feel as if I'm wasting time. But who knows I will find something that's worthwhile at the end of my journey. ;) Hope so.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;My nephew has a PSP. And it's annoying because he's so selfish with it T.T I am cross. That little bugger ain't no getting any help with the downloads of his games. Hmph. I'm serious! Because he's so rude. I am affronted. Roar. I'll help his sister, but not him. Selfish bloke.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-7979259254270232829?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7979259254270232829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=7979259254270232829' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/7979259254270232829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/7979259254270232829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2008/02/happy-chinese-new-year.html' title='Happy Chinese New Year'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-1263867577002283941</id><published>2008-01-19T05:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-19T06:47:58.866+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Joyce is a Sham. At least that's what I think.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;It is best to keep unhappy things to oneself. After a week of contemplation, I have decided to remain discreet about something that has kept my wheels of thought reeling. To of course, someone who would be most affected by it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Though I shall not disclose this particular information to the person it would be most suitably directed to, upon the excuse 'He wouldn't believe me anyway', I cannot help but feel I need to heave it off my chest.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;As you might not know, my life of the past year has been filled with gaps and blank puzzle pieces. Missing quite a number renders the picture unfanthomable. The answer never seems to come to pass. The long periods of waiting for something to come around the bend seems to never come to pass.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Yes he has made a great deal of commotion and drama in my life and I cherished the good times but I am glad I am over the bad times. More often than not, the bad things always tend to stick to the particles of your memories. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;One of his suspicions was that his ex, Joyce, is an Auntie. I have not believed him a single bit. Because the idea was just too outrageous. Imagine being with someone who turns out to be a sham. Suddenly you didn't know what to believe anymore. I know he tells me this yet he hopes for something inside of him. 'That it is not true'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;And well, who am I to pop his bubble.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;So yes I have not believed him a single bit. Until...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Seven days ago, on the 12th of January, someone called me on the phone. It was Joyce. With her nickname. Spe(xxx). XXX means it has been crossed out. As you can see, I have not gotten over the paranoia that someone will discover me in writing. Someone as aforementioned. The lady who is in every way vibrant in virtue.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I was astonished. I walked to the kitchen to get away from the commotion (a party). Not daring to breathe, I listened. I heard voices in the background. A woman talking to a man though unclear. This continued for 1 min and 44 seconds. I said hello. No answer. I ended the call. I called back. Nobody picked up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Minutes later, she called back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;We talked. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her: Who is this? You called me just now.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh no you called me first. Was there something that you want?&lt;br /&gt;Her: No, I didn't call you. (Though she obviously did).&lt;br /&gt;Me: Perhaps it was a wrong number.&lt;br /&gt;Her: Oh, okay then.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;Her: Bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hung up and was lost in my thoughts for a bit. I thought, 'Her voice sounded awfully familiar'.&lt;br /&gt;It sounded like the recording of Joyce's voice. Only, less... refined. Less careful. More aunt-ish manner of speaking. In the recording she chose her words with great care. In the call she carelessly threw it around in an Ah Liang manner. In fact she sounded a bit annoyed. But in the recording it was loving. &lt;i&gt;If only I could get her to speak to me lovingly...&lt;/i&gt; XD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called her back the second time, under the pretense of double checking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hello, maybe you called to look for my mother?&lt;br /&gt;Her: (I couldn't really hear what she said, sometimes she talked in Chinese, sometimes English; since the recording was in English I tried to get her talking in English as much as possible) No, no I didn't.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Are you sure? Because my mother's name is (censored for privacy). Are you sure you aren't looking for her?&lt;br /&gt;Her: Yes, I didn't call this number.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh, very well then, goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I hung up, I was disturbedly positive, that the lady I just spoke to was Joyce. Else I fervently pray that perhaps both Joyce and Auntie sound the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She texted me after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'I am Mrs Lim from Kelantan. What is your mother's name? Your number was unnamed in my directory so I thought there must be a reason why it's there, so I thought I knew you. Maybe I know your mother.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember very well why my number was in her directory. Because I sent a wrong msg to her particular number. And what sort of weird people have the uncanny knack of saving numbers of wrong msgs in their phone? I do not for one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: 'Her name is Florence Lai*. My name is Samantha Lai* (Changed to protect my own privacy XD and to avoid detection. I do not know why she is calling me but I do not like it one bit. It makes me uneasy.) If you do not know her then it must be a wrong number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her reply: I know something-Lai, something-Lai, something-Lai but I do not know who Florence Lai is. Nevertheless, I will keep this number just in case it is someone I know. Nice to meet you. Goodnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Like I said it is most probably a wrong number. Bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yes, after that day I have been waiting for him to come online so that I can unblock him to tell him this uncanny news. But after a week and some reflection upon the subject, I come to the conclusion it is best to keep unhappy things to oneself. Particularly when I have nothing to prove and I wish not to come into argument just because of my opinions. It is one thing to have an opinion, and quite another to force it on someone who is least wanting to hear of it. Particularly when it brings that person no good. I am afraid it might burst his bubble and he shall be of want. Of her sturdy, motherly fountain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in short, he wouldn't believe me anyway. Why should I tell him? It is for me to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yes, I am, undeniably, inclined to believe that Mrs. Lim is Joyce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The End.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;-------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Well, okay not quite the end. A few days ago, I called a childhood friend of mine. Kate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I found out M cheated on me with her last year. It was hard to deal with when I had tried to keep the friendship between Kate and I going. The reason why I remembered was probably because it was my birthday. And also his birthday. The irony.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Without having to speak, you should know that I was dreadfully hurt, and upset, and angry. Very angry. I was fuming mad. Until she changed her number and continued her rendezvous with him, saying how lucky it is that she has evaded me and so to speak, 'Thank God she doesn't know. I was so scared when she found out.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Well, I have only one wish that time. That is he does not hide it from me and break it off with me first. Reading that I felt like the third party being in a place where she doesn't belong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;So back to the point. I called her and sorted things out with her. Told her it was okay to continue doing whatever she wanted with M because I got over him. She breezily told me that there's nothing between them both and says she's got no feelings for him and he doesn't have feelings for her. Well, she too, had breezily told me this back then. *shrug* It is none of my concern anymore I suppose. I am just glad that I have ended the feeling of dislike and again return to my old self. Life is great without someone that brings you down because of dislike. She told me she was glad and that was sorry for the things she had done. This was of course, after my own apology of saying harsh words to her. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I admit. I called her a bitch. She was being bitchy after all. ^^;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Well, she was a friend who gave me those beautiful lily bulbs when I was young after all. Flowers that I truly cherished and looked after, which gave me many full blooms. So then, she shall remain an acquaintance. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;It is better to have distance when you've tasted the sharp end of a person's dark persona.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-1263867577002283941?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1263867577002283941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=1263867577002283941' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/1263867577002283941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/1263867577002283941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2008/01/joyce-is-sham-at-least-thats-what-i.html' title='Joyce is a Sham.&lt;i&gt; At least that&apos;s what I think.&lt;/i&gt;'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-4819316667583645329</id><published>2007-12-31T15:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-01T15:06:03.909+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Penang Trip</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Well well, suffice to say it has been a great week!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;On a side note. Things that I didn't post the last post.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;I am &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;not Cheap! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Just because&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;I held hands with a guy that I know very well, at least he's more real to me than you are so don't you dare judge me! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;Just because something you say would rub off your ego, you don't always have to say it. *scoff*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff9900;"&gt;I have always wondered whether you were always this immature. I thought that perhaps we could continue just as friends, but Nooo something in you just have to spoil it. Grow up please.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;-----&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I have refrained from posting anything about him because he told me not to. Which was strange for me. Because not that I thought my words would have any impact on anyone. So someone already knew the game on Christmas. Just because of a small little gesture. So since the cat is out of the bag, there isn't much of fun poking and teasing anymore. ._.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;But life is short and ever changing, we might not be able to celebrate next Christmas together, you'll never know. But then again, you'll never know if one is destined to be with you. After the movie Amelie, that I watched, it's so different. Magical in a sense. Like relationships are dropped from the vast skies in shapes of crystalline stars. One each for every outstretched hand, waiting for Destiny to drop a crystal into it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;So before I forget, I had better write about my trip to Penang.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;28th December&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Early morning, I didn't sleep for fear I wouldn't wake up. Actually I didn't sleep because I was playing games. So yes I packed and waited for YT. Felt fresh for some reason. Went out to the tree in front of the house to sit, something I've not done before. Especially in the mornings. Saw a man doing his daily excercise. Saw him do taichi and funny movements. Felt amused. Steph came by and sat next to me and told me about Mr.30plus-but-doing-taichi-exercises.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Waited an hour, was on the verge of being toppled over by Pique when Sam, Hannah's guy arrived. It is the first time I am meeting him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;A whiff of donuts greeted me and their cheery voices of course. First time observing Hannah and Sam. Felt awkward at first. The trip up was long. But not too long. Steph said I snored. ._. I KNEW I DID. aaaah. Yes, I have 3 kinds of snores ladies and gentlemen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;When we reached we were mighty hungry and we went and had Penang Fried Kuey Tiao but with Duck Eggs. Alas, I tasted nothing special about it. YT said it wasn't that nice either. ._. Then we went and walked around in search of something nice to eat, and we ended up at this restaurant that well, isn't *that* nice either, but I liked the dumplings there. Yummy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Then the next morning, we had breakfast at the hotel. The miso soup was sour ._. But I drank it all the same. I could say the nicest thing there that morning was the cereal and the chicken sausages.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;After that I was stuffed. And we waited for Joanne, YT's friend to come and bring us around. Joanne has shoulder length straight hair and I took a liking to her immediately after I got in the car. We went for the famous curry mee. Mind you, I had a shock when I discovered that they put blood into soup. To thicken it. Or something. Pig's blood, or chicken I'm not sure. But @@ Ugh!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;So I stressed no blood. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#999999;"&gt;No. Blood.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;It tasted slightly different. But I liked it. YUM! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;After that was cendol.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;AND OH! The first thing you wonder about Penang is;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Why are all the streeets One Way?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;The answer came when I tried crossing the road. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Answer: If it were 2 ways, I'd probably die. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;The roads are crazy! Cars just squeeze in any space they could find. And I had to hold Steph's hand each time I cross the road. *shudder* And the sun... oh the oh-so-very-hot-sun...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Actually the sun is hot everywhere, just that we don't have to walk that much when in our own residency. So yea. I had my umbrella. Blue with winnie the pooh patterns. And it broke. And I still had to use it even though it was broken. Quite embarrassing but hey I'd rather be embarrassed than grilled. =D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;So back to the Cendol. There are &lt;em&gt;lots&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;lots&lt;/em&gt; of people at the cendol shop. Like really, there's a crowd even standing outside the shop scooping their cendols into their mouths. I am personally not a fan of cendol but I like that cendol! @@ It was milky and yummy. And the ice melts down into your throat. Trickle. Aaaaah I'm like a satisfied kitty.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Ah and I think I have a new favourite drink. Barley sengkam ice. Barley with a tangy taste. Ooh!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Then we went to Queensbay Mall and the sun was hot. The palm tree wasn't covering us sufficiently so I had to run to a nearby shade which was a bus. High school students were getting off the bus and they gave me looks and I gave them looks. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;In the end I couldn't take their looks, (many against one you know) and I trudged back to YT and Steph. Palm tree. I loitered around for an hour or so while they had their Thai massage. I don't think I'd fancy a massage. *gulp*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;By the time Joanne came to pick us up, I was so drop dead tired. My backbone was aching. I slept in the car. I was exhausted. We were at Tambun when I woke up. And we had such a nice nice nice nice nice dinner. It was so fulfilling and oh I loved the fish! It was tangy too. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I think I certainly shocked Sam who didn't know about my eating capabilities. =D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;The vegetable was so spicy I couldn't finish the bit I took. *cough* shove it unto *cough* the plate *cough cough* nobody saw it XD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Sam burped a lot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#999999;"&gt;A Lot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;So yea, the next day was church and I felt a bit sleepy in church. I always do. But at least I was conscious enough to hear him talking about termites. The worker termites actually die because when the queen died, they didn't have a purpose to live. They lived for their queen. How noble.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Then Sam was doing a fishing action, and I couldn't stand him being peevish. I mean he was cheeky but I always gave him that F3 look and just ignored him, but I smacked him on the shoulder when he did that. =__=&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Cheeky.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Fella.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Then we met Joanne's church members, and Oh dear... I forgot her name, but she reminded me of Charmaine. I had a nice time talking to her. Then, we went back home. And that's about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Well, I was at YT's friend's house. Kazzy. I like Kazzy too. And her kitties. I like Invader. He's a Casanova Cat. Miao~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Well Happy New Year folks!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-4819316667583645329?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4819316667583645329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=4819316667583645329' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/4819316667583645329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/4819316667583645329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/12/penang-trip.html' title='Penang Trip'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-1674115266084533223</id><published>2007-12-20T00:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T02:05:23.653+08:00</updated><title type='text'>CG.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I've always wanted to write but I just didn't get around to it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Firstly, I had a really really nice girl talk with Steph, YT and Hannah, at a Jap Restaurant. It wasn't a planned thing. More like an impromptu talk. So yea, I was stressed with exams back then, so it was really quite relieving to just gather and lament about things that are causing stress.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;And we had our good laughs and everything just seemed much better. Of course their situations are worse than mine then. They were just over their limits. I'm glad we managed to let a bit of our stress out that day. It's really been so long since I had loads of fun having girl talk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Recently I've been helping out Steph with her Fishbone program at her tuition centre. And I think I've just about found my new path of interest? Teaching. I've always put it away from my mind because I just shut out the idea. Because mom was a teacher. So if Accounts does not work out for me, I'd be taking up an English diploma. To teach foreign students or something.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;The kids at the centre were fun. They were shy at first, but after that they gradually opened up and even laughed. Whether with or at me, I'm really not quite sure. It was a shy smile at first, but oh ho. I couldn't squeeze much talk out of the shy ones but I kept prodding. I think I like Mian Ying. She's sweet in her own way. Well, alright =/ She looks sweet. And her writing is the best out of the rest so far. But Suet gives me funny quirky ideas too. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;As for marking their passages, I'm not sure how to mark... And I'm not even sure if my grammar is right. =/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;But I tried my best and I had my fun. =)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;But firstly, I just *have* to say... EXAMS ARE OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! =D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Yt told us that she got a job as a travelling writer. I am glad for her but I am also sad because she's leaving us, or at least won't be with us for quite as much anymore. I look to her as a peer and I've never thought of her as being in the other generation. We just remarked about how odd it is. And a friend of mine also told me today that she has a BF (Best Friend) that isn't very trustworthy at all. I shudder to think that I would have a best friend like that. A friend I can't trust with my BoyF because she'll be jealous and basically wanting him for herself? That's scary. =(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;And I've also found out about a friend. Sadly, that friend isn't being very truthful. It pains me because the actions of this friend is causing another friend of mine pain. Actually, would cause pain if that friend found out that is. But I cannot help but feel angry and sad for that particular friend of mine. Why don't people be true to themselves and do the things that show them true but instead well... not? I just simply cannot imagine how one keeps things from another even when they've associated with each other for a long time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;._.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Well that's it for today. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-1674115266084533223?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1674115266084533223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=1674115266084533223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/1674115266084533223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/1674115266084533223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/12/cg.html' title='CG.'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-5442209213159907844</id><published>2007-11-27T09:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T09:47:23.396+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;It was nearly two months since I posted something. Shall I tell you about what happened to me for these 2 months or rather my feelings now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I think, now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I found out exam was next week. Bit of a shock for me because I thought I'd have more time to study. So here I am trying to calm myself through writing. I've refrained from writing for so long because there's just something vulnerable about writing how you felt. And I'd like to keep to myself for a bit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;But really, I was shocked I could numbly look at my books and papers in class. Class starts at 10 but I'm here early. Actually class starts at 10 but I thought it was 9. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;So... calm my nerves...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Okay. That's it. No more games for me, all there is now for me and next week is benkyo benkyo benkyo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Then I have to print some, attendance docket. Not entirely sure what was that.&lt;br /&gt;Then my schedule was actually in the magazine which isn't delivered to me but to my brother instead. So, really, I'm clueless about what I'm supposed to do. What I'm supposed to have.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Relax. Don't panic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;No more games. I am constantly reminded by what he said (teacher). He said cannot last minute cram such things. I cannot help feeling ... I cannot help not having a deep interest... it was partially because really I'm clueless about whatever it is they teach. They teach well, it's just my fault. I feel @@ and huh..??? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I was feeling really down becauuse of an email from an acquaintance. He is gay. I told him what I thought according to my beliefs, that it was wrong but yet to me he would still be my friend. I think he wanted me to say he was right. But I'm sorry. He said unkind things and truly I felt hurt because I really did want to help him. I wasn't judging him. I was just being honest. I am sorry that we could not be friends and that our diversity has created a rift between us. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;About my past one, I think I've learnt to let go. I cried the other day after such a long time. And the thing is it came just suddenly. Like a wave hitting the beach without a sound. I think it means that my wall of numbness has gone away. I mean I was laughing and such before that. But now perhaps I am strong enough to face my own conflicts. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I think it is time to control and manage my time. Time management. I ran away from reality for quite some time now. Seeking comforts at the wrong place. I mean it's not wrong. I do feel conforted but I know that I cannot hide any longer. My reprieve is over. Time to get my life back on track.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I think I'll be working with Steph soon. Might be teaching primary school students with creative writing. Not quite sure if I could do it, but I'll try =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. Toodles. Time for class.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I'm still quite shaken by the fact that exam is so near and I'm such a screw up and failure for not even preparing for it. I knew it. I seen it coming. I am quite contradictory.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Though I beat myself up inside constantly bout not studying and stuff, yet... I do nothing about it. It is something that I have brought upon myself and I shall not lament upon it. All that is left to do is to be quiet and dilligently toil myself through studies 24/7. Well alright, 18/7.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Goodbye blog. Intensive studies starts from today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-5442209213159907844?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5442209213159907844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=5442209213159907844' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/5442209213159907844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/5442209213159907844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/11/it-was-nearly-two-months-since-i-posted.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-7589210118202312500</id><published>2007-10-08T06:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-10-08T06:21:23.705+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Message about Abortion.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Month 1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Mommy, I am only 8 inches long, but I have all my organs. I love the sound of your voice. Every time I hear it, I wave my arms and legs. The sound ofyour heart beat is my favorite lullaby.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Month 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Mommy, today I learned how to suck my thumb. If you could see me, you could definitely tell that I am a baby. I'm not big enough to survive outside my home though. It is so nice and warm in here. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Month 3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;You know what Mommy, I'm a girl!! I hope that makes you happy. I always want you to be happy. I don't like it when you cry. You sound so sad. It makes me sad too, and I cry with you even though you can't hear me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Month 4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Mommy, my hair is starting to grow. It is very short and fine, but I will have a lot of it. I spend a lot of mytime exercising. I can turn my headand curl my fingers and toes, and stretch my arms and legs. I am becoming quite good at it too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Month 5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;You went to the doctor today. Mommy, he lied to you. He said that I'm not ababy. I am a baby Mommy, your baby. I think and feel. Mommy, what's abortion?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Month 6&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I can hear that doctor again. I don't like him. He seems cold and heartless.Something is intruding my home. The doctor called it a needle. Mommy what is it? It burns! Please make him stop! I can't get away from it! Mommy!! HELP me!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Month 7&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Mommy, I am okay. I am in Jesus's arms. he is holding me. He told me about abortion. Why didn't you want me, Mommy?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Every Abortion Is Just . . .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;One more heart that was stopped.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Two more eyes that will never see.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Two more hands that will never touch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Two more legs that will never run.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;One more mouth that will never speak.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I think this is quite touching. It was forwarded in friendster and all but I didn't like to post anything there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-7589210118202312500?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7589210118202312500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=7589210118202312500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/7589210118202312500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/7589210118202312500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/10/message-about-abortion.html' title='Message about Abortion.'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-4271090392809566271</id><published>2007-09-28T13:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-28T13:49:09.184+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Closed Chapter.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Today is the 28th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stopped contacting Mark on the 20th.&lt;br /&gt;He said he didn't contact joyce at all but he did.&lt;br /&gt;He emailed her and bla bla bla...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lies. And then he told me he didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called him just now to confront him and it was true. He admitted that he just sent a message to congratulate her.&lt;br /&gt;Hello? It's still contacting. Lies. Lies. Excuses to cover up lies.&lt;br /&gt;But nevertheless still a satisfactory explanation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I asked, 'Did you tell her you like her?'&lt;br /&gt;"Yes'&lt;br /&gt;'Did you tell her you miss her?'&lt;br /&gt;'Yes'&lt;br /&gt;"Did you tell her you love her?'&lt;br /&gt;'Yes'&lt;br /&gt;Seriously... no more I should ask.  He said he thinks I'm the catalyst of why he starts liking her again after the 20th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I didn't want to talk to him he said.&lt;br /&gt;Hah. You know what's the reason we broke up? Because he's not ready to meet. Not fcking ready to meet. How long do I have to wait? Another 2 years?  Then I said you're not ready to be with me, it's like you're not even ready for a commitment!&lt;br /&gt;And then he says, fine maybe I shouldn't be with you then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, this is all crap and bullshit. Relationships are not meant to be like that.&lt;br /&gt;If that's how it is, so easily fragile and broken, then it's a really shallow relationship isn't it? An immature one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being with him was hard because it was like constantly being overshadowed by his ex.&lt;br /&gt;And he didn't help in matters much also. Before this it was hard, I had a reason to be in insecurity all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I tried not to, things would always happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end, the ashes of my tears, are really of my own foolishness. Love is a game that's never fair.&lt;br /&gt;I'm just foolish enough to believe he truly loved me.&lt;br /&gt;'It's not you that pains me, it's yours lies.'&lt;br /&gt;He said, 'Everybody says that.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's when I knew, I'm just one of the other girls. Just one of them. Played. Dealt. Move-aside-I'm-Done-With-You.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I'm crying. My heart hurts. Heh who doesn't.&lt;br /&gt;Life's like that. I'm just sorry it lasted so long. But I am a persistent person. I suppose after this I can finally leave without regrets. Perhaps it is just something that I should learn. I mean during the long time span.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing is bad about Mark. He's nice. It's just quite ethereal because we didn't meet like normal people. And there's also his past with his ex. Always there. He always does love her and it was hard. And also the issue of lies to cover it up. I'm sick and tired of the lies. I think this is for the better. It definitely is. I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'The 2nd shall replace the 1st.'&lt;br /&gt;That's what God told me. Through YT. I think it's time to really believe in God and say no should any chance arise for some sort of reconciliation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's nice. Just his excess baggages. Everyone has it yet really, it's exhausting to tarry on with those baggages for 2 years plus. Really... isn't it time he or she moved on already?&lt;br /&gt;So, to me, it's just not gonna work if it's gonna be like this, "online', and having this constant figure undermining me. Zilch. Nada. Not gonna work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel sad. It could have been something very meaningful. And it was something that took so much of my heart... and I've no idea what hopes or dreams I had put into it, but... I just feel sad that it turned out like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One sentence. 'I should have known.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should have known he's gonna be a weirdo. I mean not meeting? Immature. How many real guys out there actually have this problem? Sucks. Totally sucks.&lt;br /&gt;I should have known I'm in a relationship with his ex as well.&lt;br /&gt;I should have known he's prone to cheating on me too. With his ex. It was really painful to read all he wrote to her for the entire period of which we were together. I might not want to admit it, but he was still in love with her all along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that's about it. Other than that, he's Mr Perfect.&lt;br /&gt;Oh and his ego. He's somewhat the dominant type.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't regret his faults. Perhaps it's good lesson for me that I may know how to handle hardships in relationships in the future. Once bitten twice shy mar :)&lt;br /&gt;One thing I know, I think I'm a pretty good gf. I mean I'm loving. Nice and warm :(&lt;br /&gt;Funny. I'm always funny. I... think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The things that I'm not are, gentle. Submissive. Emo (?? am I emo? ; eh it's one thing being emotional when you have the cause to be emotional but it's totally another thing if you're emotional with no cause at all).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah... I was feeling very crummy at first. I mean I was crying and heart was pain pain and all. But hey, after blogging it seems to be A Okay again =) I mean blogging really is a sort of therapy. Or is it? I mean it's just nice venting out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-4271090392809566271?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4271090392809566271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=4271090392809566271' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/4271090392809566271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/4271090392809566271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/09/closed-chapter.html' title='The Closed Chapter.'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-3487314769542201415</id><published>2007-08-17T20:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-17T21:06:25.160+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bee and Hermit.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Today I went out. To Sungai Wang. I now have to keep reminding myself that I shall not to go out again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;It took me 2 hours to get there. 2 hours to get back. Going isn't so bad. I could sit. But coming back? Wow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;My feet are achingly exhausted. My nerves in my feet are jumping and threathening to twist themselves any minute now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Met a friend's brother. He is 10 years old, and he is such a cute little boy. Erm. Nothing much about my friend. He's 16 and it was okay. We didn't talk much. Was kinda weird. We mapled at the cybercafe. And, that's about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Rushed to my bath straight out and now I'm here. Clean and cosy like a cat. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;There was so much travelling. o.o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;First there was the bus, then there was the train, then there was the monorail. Then the same thing all over again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;One thing I learnt about today was that, erm. Normally when you see those 'pilak' people, you'd feel like you'd wanna move to one side? To avoid body contact. Shunt. Shunt. *shudder*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;But today I saw one got up from his seat and gave his seat to the lady in the bus. He didn't look very educated but there was a pang inside. I didn't look at him the way I look at others anymore. The 'eyeing' look. I always eye suspicious people. It's to say, 'Hey you, I'm watchful about you. Don't you dare do anything hanky panky.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Well. That's about it today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;And my legs feel so smooth. I used this Hair Removal Mousse by Veet. Hmm, very nice. Feels like silk. And I'm so thirsty today. I don't know why.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-3487314769542201415?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3487314769542201415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=3487314769542201415' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/3487314769542201415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/3487314769542201415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/08/bee-and-hermit.html' title='Bee and Hermit.'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-6491809864683118044</id><published>2007-08-12T12:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-12T12:29:43.747+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Things that have been bothering me.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I read something the other day. And it brought me down for a bit tho knowing that words on it were untrue. I feel a bit sad inside for she does not know what I truly feel, what I truly am. Words I couldn't say to defend myself. What is the point really. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Pride and Prejudice. If only I had more of this things would be easier for me. It would be so easy to see others in a lowly manner and just get along with life in your happy little way. Jealousy. Have I been jealous this time around? I don't think so. Maybe hurt yes. But not jealous. Sometimes you just don't have the capacity to be jealous anymore. When you learn to give up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;My last post was a last message. If one were to read properly, it's the words of a girl who says, 'You win.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I don't understand why she has to bloody gloat. One wouldn't have to be suspicious if not given a reason to. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;The one thing that really irks me for how untrue it is, is 'no confidence, no trust, no faith in herself.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;God. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;This is one thing out of all the things that I have to stand up for. I have my confidence thank you very much. I trust myself too thank you very much. Faith. Hmm, faith that I could make it work were I with another. Yesh. That too. All of that I do have in myself. What I don't have is the confidence that things will work out. Will you if one that you've been with for so long loves his ex more than you? You wouldn't be so high and mighty as to say such things like that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not here to dispute any longer. Tempting tho. To post this in my old public blog. But no. Memories of disputes are left to be gone. I like this blog. It's like a new beginning. Alas, little does she know I didn't take it into my own conclusion and make a fuss. One thing I can never stand to be is a conveyer belt girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so sorry but I cannot replace someone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of something else. I have been mapling a lot. And I had this maple bf. For like 2 weeks. It was bad. He wanted it to be real life too. I couldn't. He's a nice guy. Really nice. But he has low self esteem. He doesn't understand that I can't because it's me, not him. He's not exactly that young, and so he thinks that's the factor and  yadda yadda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yesterday I made it a point to him. That it's only in maple. He couldn't take it. I regret somewhat for not staying as friends because he's a really nice friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'i so want to hurt you badly.. but i also want you badly too.. goddamn you.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;This is real bad. I mean. Sudahlah I have enough crap going on, I suddenly have someone hating me. He kept saying why I wouldn't give him a chance or what. But that's not the point. I mean the point is, is that I just don't have the capacity to anymore. I mean not anymore. But just not now. And certainly not internet ones. I mean there is nothing oh so great about me. I'm just an average girl.  I'm really sorry really.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Everytime I look at my ex's picture, I'm always reminded by the fact. The sentence that kept repeating in my head. 'I really love you Joyce. I like my ex, but I love you.' That's the killer. Everytime I look at it, I'm reminded by this fact. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;But apart from all that, I know that deep down inside God has prepared someone just for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-6491809864683118044?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6491809864683118044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=6491809864683118044' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/6491809864683118044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/6491809864683118044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/08/things-that-have-been-bothering-me.html' title='Things that have been bothering me.'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-3825802421499000703</id><published>2007-07-31T14:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T14:37:08.709+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Confirmation.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Since I've been working at a lab, I met this guy. His name is erm, TH.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;TH is slightly plump. Rounded, a boyish kind of guy. Cute perhaps. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I could feel like there were special sentiments exuding from him but I've always tried to shrug it away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Then, my cold shoulder treatments doesn't seem to hit him. I mean it doesn't deter him from asking me questions anyway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Innocent little questions. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;At first I was warm and friendly but I have no idea why I started inching away. I mean. I didn't want that kind of attention. I mean, I've always tried to deny that he would prolly have any feelings for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I guess I didn't want to erm, make things erm bad for him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;But I would always get irritated when he talked to me. Bad. But I got irritated.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Cos I just wanted him to stop.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;So anyways.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Today my colleague talked about him again. Then I told him, 'I don't think TH likes me.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Then he said, 'Hahaha he does! He really does. I'm serious. He has a bit of feeling for you.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Well. OOookay. I can't deny it no more. My intuition has been blaring loudly since... since ever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;So I thought about it. And I said, 'But I don't have any feelings for him.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Hoping that above said words would reach him somehow. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;So please. Above-words, please reach TH.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I guess sometimes things like these freak me. I mean it's a different thing if I knew you very well and then I realised from a third party or something that you have some kind of feelings towards me. But nooooo I barely even know you. I mean I don't even talk to you. That's the thing you know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I guess, (based on analysing my past erm, freakedoutness) that's prolly why. I mean cause the guys that I'm freaked out at, doesn't even know me. I mean I don't even talk to them much. Yeah. I guess that's why. Else I'd find it easy to erm, put them down gently or somewhat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Hmm. Meow. That's it for today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-3825802421499000703?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3825802421499000703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=3825802421499000703' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/3825802421499000703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/3825802421499000703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/07/confirmation.html' title='Confirmation.'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-1888285939871371301</id><published>2007-07-30T15:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T15:36:35.184+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Hmm, today I didn't sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jai Harpalani. This is the name of the Indian guy I think that said, 'Do well,' to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean. Of all things. 'Do well.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;=.=&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why I remember another encounter with him. It was when I nearly knocked into him with an umbrella. And he said another weird comment. He said, "Take care.' Not like Oh be careful. But like, take care of yourself. HUH?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, maybe I know why. Maybe he looks quite okay. But whatever I don't think I'm liking him. I think he's my height. HAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently in Maple, I met a guy called Quill. He's Javanese and he seems kinda nice. He's been in the same shit like I did. Only his was prolly worse as she sort of use him. I could somehow relate to him. I feel that I care for this persona of his and well... ahem.&lt;br /&gt;And recently my ex called. I'm in a dilemma of whether should I get on with my life or give us another chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said some things to his ex that totally isn't fair to me. That really hurts me and I think I don't deserve shits like that. I really don't. I mean, I just wish to not be hurt. That's all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two days ago I went to the open cinema with a friendand it was fun. We watched The Devil Wears Prada and Littleman. Haha. I love TDWP. I've watched it 3 times already. Thank God he found this piece of wood or we'd be wetting our butts. He has extra tickets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only bad thing is that our butts were sore a while later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never been out with a guy like that before. I mean it was perfectly friendly and he was perfectly amiable. A gentleman AND a friend. I mean, cause guys that I went out with as friends made me feel somewhat disgusted. Oh wait. I do have another friend. But with him it was like brotherly sort of thing. Also awkward at the same time because he wasn't really very er... well, we had stuff to talk about but didn't really really click. Hmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Oh. And when I wanted to get that HarryPotter book just now the girl told me that it's sold out. I mean before that I booked a book that day! And it was the last one and the other day when I went to get it the girl told me her boss asked her to sell it to another customer though I already booked it! Sooo okay... I'm okie but until today when I'm supposed to get it. UGH. Then she calls me and tells me it's out. But I'm okie with that if only she didn't say her boss told her it's like... out. Like her boss isn't going to get more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Oh. I got so agitated that I told her that they promised me. And that she had better ask her boss. In a im-very-annoyed-sort-of-way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Ugh. So that's my day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-1888285939871371301?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1888285939871371301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=1888285939871371301' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/1888285939871371301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/1888285939871371301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/07/hmm-today-i-didnt-sleep.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-8698909280563395637</id><published>2007-07-16T15:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T16:03:50.518+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Name Found!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I finally found out what's the mysterious guy with the accent's name!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;The one I was in the lift with! Hehe! Weirdly he always wears the same clothes. They don't seem overworn... Black top. Cargo pants. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;His name is &lt;s&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;Francis Siah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/s&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;AHAHA &lt;s&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;Boon Hock&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/s&gt;. Mmm Oops this is supposed to be annonymous.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Haha. His id is 10590 weu weu. He came to take his paper.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Darn. I forgot to check what course he is in. UGH.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;*bangs head to wall*&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/4563734908049251178-8698909280563395637?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8698909280563395637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=8698909280563395637' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/8698909280563395637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/8698909280563395637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-finally-found-out-whats-mysterious.html' title='Name Found!'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-744507841878517559</id><published>2007-07-15T19:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-15T19:42:53.561+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bird.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Is saying goodbye one of the hardest thing to do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Or is making the decision to let someone go harder?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;And pushing them towards it...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Does letting someone go actually means loving one?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;We are selfish.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;It is a well known fact.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Not everyone can be so generous as to put others wishes before ours.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;It is always what we want. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Particularly when that person is quite close to us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;But will you let something go if it cannot be retrieved again?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;If it's for the sake of the bird? So that it may soar up high in the sky?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;In the heavens while carrying your hopes and wants?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I have been selfish all these while.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I decide to be selfish no longer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-744507841878517559?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/744507841878517559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=744507841878517559' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/744507841878517559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/744507841878517559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/07/bird.html' title='Bird.'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-293200418331288222</id><published>2007-06-25T14:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-25T14:47:34.491+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Gerbils!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;On the 23rd of June, two things have happened that are of equal importance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Oh alright. Not equally. The bad outweighs the good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Good thing is, my gerbils has produced babies! 6 pups!~ weuweuweu! &lt;3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;It was such a shock for me because I didn't even know they had started to mate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;But one of the babies it seems has a deformed right leg. =( Maybe it's because the parents&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;are Brothers and Sisters. Hmmm. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I mean deformed as in, I just see a stump. Instead of proper, toes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;The bad thing is, I shall not be able to go online for 2 weeks. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;My roommate has decided to cut the line,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;for she is moving out on the 26th.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;BUT WTHECK! Does she have to cut it 4 DAYS EARLIER?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;WHAT THE FRIGGIN HELL&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;ESPECIALLY WHEN it's 2x EXP in Maple too! Like wth?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;But. It's good for me somewhat. I have to study.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Exams are coming up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Things just aren't the same anymore. Unlike the olden days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Where failing = No prob.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Now Failing = Big prob.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Exams fee for a paper is 400. Failing = -400&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;That's bad. The stress ... I'm not saying that I feel any particular stress.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;But I do feel a pressure. Like a 'thou must not fail' pressure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I found a book about Pride and Prejudice. I mean, after that. And it's exciting! Found out there was like 3 other books written after Jane Austen's book. Hehe! I shall be visiting MPH regularly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;So yea. No more onlining for me. Sad case.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;And oh yea, yesterday I called Venetia. And she says that she was involved in a minor accident.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I hope she'll be okay. I told her to go for a check up but she assured me it was a minor thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;And Stef, if you're reading this. You know then. Haha I'm supposed to tell you that she was involved in a minor accident, but I couldn't go online anymore, and I ran out of credit. Aheh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;So, I suppose I will be updating on a regular basis soon. Bye.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-293200418331288222?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/293200418331288222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=293200418331288222' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/293200418331288222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/293200418331288222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/06/baby-gerbils.html' title='Baby Gerbils!'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-3816874015741975291</id><published>2007-06-17T22:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-18T03:23:01.918+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;There is nothing worse than being stranded. In a place that isn't your home, with no family around you to bail you out without you being embarrassed about bothering them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I arrived later than usual at the KTM station and... it was dark. And eerie. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;No buses. No taxis.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Few roguish looking Indian guys. The menacing looking ones.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;It wasn't exactly empty yet not that safe I suppose.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I tried to hail this Transnasional bus but it just zoomed past me. =(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I called the only person I could think of.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;And thankfully YT was kind enough to pick me up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;*beams*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;but sorry about that bumper banging. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Well. The moral of the story is that I should learn how to drive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Of course not that I would have a car to drive here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;But at least it would enable me to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Carjack someone else.&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/4563734908049251178-3816874015741975291?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3816874015741975291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=3816874015741975291' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/3816874015741975291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/3816874015741975291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/06/there-is-nothing-worse-than-being.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-7374717509954927731</id><published>2007-05-18T01:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-18T01:04:25.176+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Complaint!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;BLOODY HELL! I wanted to post pictures today BUT BLOGGER HAS SOME ERROR ON IT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I BET IT'S GOOGLE'S FAULT FOR BUYING IT OVER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GAH.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;WHEN I CAN FINALLY POST PHOTOS I'LL DELETE THIS POST.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-7374717509954927731?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7374717509954927731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=7374717509954927731' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/7374717509954927731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/7374717509954927731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/05/complaint.html' title='Complaint!'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-4003623218963415067</id><published>2007-05-16T14:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-16T14:57:17.156+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tagged by Hannah</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Tagged by Hannah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Layer One : On The Outside&lt;br /&gt;Name - Casandra @ Cassy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Birth date - 9th January 1988&lt;br /&gt;Current Status - Single&lt;br /&gt;Eye Colour - dark brown-black&lt;br /&gt;Hair Colour - dark brown-black&lt;br /&gt;Righty or Lefty - Righty.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Layer Two : On The Inside&lt;br /&gt;Your Heritage - Chinese&lt;br /&gt;Your Fears - Death. Failure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Your Weakness - Jealousy. Tactless.&lt;br /&gt;Your Perfect Pizza - Pepperoni with Lots of CHEESE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#999999;"&gt;Layer Three : Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;Your Thoughts First Waking Up - Ugh. 5 more minutes. DAMN I'M LATE!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#999999;"&gt;Your Bedtime - When I'm tired.&lt;br /&gt;Your Most Missed Memory - Random ones. The ones when you think about it, you'd remember.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Layer Four : Your Picks&lt;br /&gt;Pepsi or Coke - Neither. They contain caffeine. Not that I don't drink Milk Tea but. Ah.&lt;br /&gt;McDonald's or Burger King - Burger King's Mushroom Swiss. Aaah...&lt;br /&gt;Single or Group Dates - Single&lt;br /&gt;Adidas or Nike - I own neither. But I'd say Nike.&lt;br /&gt;Tea or Nestea - Ximut Milk Tea.&lt;br /&gt;Chocolate or Vanilla - Vanilla.&lt;br /&gt;Cappucino or coffee - Neither.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Layer Five : Do You...&lt;br /&gt;Smoke - No.&lt;br /&gt;Curse - Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Take a shower - Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Have a crush - Lol. Nah. Though I'll just wait and see.&lt;br /&gt;Think you've been in love - Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Go to school - College.&lt;br /&gt;Want to get marry - Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Believe in yourself - Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Think you're a health freak - Erm. What? I don't stick to salads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Layer Six - In The Past Month&lt;br /&gt;Drank alcohol - No. T.T I want a cocktail.&lt;br /&gt;Eaten sushi - Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Dyed your hair - Once.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Layer Seven : Have You Even...&lt;br /&gt;Played A Stripping Game - No.&lt;br /&gt;Changed Who You Were To Fit In - No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Layer Eight : Age You're Hoping&lt;br /&gt;To Be Married - Never thought about it. I wouldn't want to be too old.&lt;br /&gt;For a - I have no idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Layer Nine : In a Girl / Guy&lt;br /&gt;Best Eye Colour - Any.&lt;br /&gt;Best Hair Colour - Any.&lt;br /&gt;Short hair or Long Hair - Definitely short. Long haired guys are gay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Layer Ten : What Were You Doing&lt;br /&gt;1 min ago - Homework. For once.&lt;br /&gt;1 Hour ago - Homework. For once.&lt;br /&gt;1 month ago - Mapling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Layer Eleven : Finish the sentence&lt;br /&gt;I love - you once upon a time. Such a sad one.&lt;br /&gt;I hate - contradicting truths. Lies. Deceit. Uncertainty. Most of all, Insecurity.&lt;br /&gt;I hide - my smile.&lt;br /&gt;I miss - my family. My friends back in KK.&lt;br /&gt;I need - God. Family. Friends. Him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Layer Twelve : Tag Five People&lt;br /&gt;Do I have to?&lt;br /&gt;Venetia.&lt;br /&gt;Danielle.&lt;br /&gt;Steffie.&lt;br /&gt;Seriously no more. o.O&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-4003623218963415067?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4003623218963415067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=4003623218963415067' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/4003623218963415067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/4003623218963415067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/05/tagged-by-hannah.html' title='Tagged by Hannah'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-8806124501781740045</id><published>2007-05-16T14:18:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-16T14:41:03.400+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I've been Tagged.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;Rules: For those who have been tagged, you are required to write a story about one of your crush, be it a current or previous crush. To be exactly different from the common tags, there is no questions imposed this time. All you have to do is to write a story about him/her. Also, five persons will need to be tagged at the end of the post. This tag is originated from Ms Lee (http://tsa3yun.blogspot.com). You must post up these rules before you start writing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;So I've been tagged. And I wanted to write about a past crush, a guy with a name Starting with E.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;one that I got over. Now that's a sad crush indeed.&lt;br /&gt;But then, today I saw someone that I didn't know that... well has a little liking to it. HAHAS ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to blog about this particular guy today that I met but suddenly thought that hey! This can be considered a shallow crush right? Cause it's just like Day Number 1 today Teehee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;-----&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;'Me lecturer wants me to get another projector'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;*he points to another projector*&lt;br /&gt;'This one working?'&lt;br /&gt;*Starts to pull it away*&lt;br /&gt;asking yet another time.&lt;br /&gt;'This one working aight? I'll take it.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;Sounds innocent enough don't you think? Yet it took me ten seconds to decipher what he said for his voice is accented.&lt;br /&gt;In a nice deep sort of way. Not gruffy, not squeaky either. In that ten seconds all I did was look blankly at him while thinking about:-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. My he has a nice voice.&lt;br /&gt;2. My he has very nice English accent too.&lt;br /&gt;3. My I've seen him before but never took notice of him.&lt;br /&gt;4. Say something!&lt;br /&gt;5. Boy he's tall.&lt;br /&gt;6. Can he really take the projector away like that? (I'd have said so if I knew)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;So in the end, all I said was:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;'Yeah.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;I feel dumb. For not giving a proper answer but like, stuck. I got confused there for a while, cause I guess I'm wondering how I never took real notice of him before BAHAHA! Seems like I'm a sucker for people who speak good English. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;Did I say he was tall? Taller than me no doubt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;*notes to self*&lt;br /&gt;- Smile even more widely when you see him again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;- Talk nicely.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;=D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;I guess it can be considered the first stage of a shallow crush right? Since I *am* curious about what course he's taking. =P &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;I don't go minding other's business you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;And I hereby tag:-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Venetia&lt;br /&gt;Danielle&lt;br /&gt;Steffie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-8806124501781740045?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8806124501781740045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=8806124501781740045' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/8806124501781740045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/8806124501781740045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/05/ive-been-tagged.html' title='I&apos;ve been Tagged.'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-4815405548655311553</id><published>2007-05-15T13:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-15T13:37:55.487+08:00</updated><title type='text'>1.15pm. Tuesday.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;At precisely 1.15pm, Casandra fell down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;On her &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;butt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;WIth two people as her witnesses. If she could blush she would.&lt;br /&gt;Really.&lt;br /&gt;She would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was painful.&lt;br /&gt;And embarrassing.&lt;br /&gt;And I suddenly realised&lt;br /&gt;I can't remember the last time I felt embarrassed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's a good thing right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was just a fraction of a second and I realised that I'm going to fall down.&lt;br /&gt;I mean, for just &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; one fraction of a second, I knew it was coming.&lt;br /&gt;I knew. That's why it was... odd to me. Until I'm blogging about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've tired Vblogging and well, it didn't work for me.&lt;br /&gt;I'm still as conscious as ever and well, I guess I should write what I'm about to say first&lt;br /&gt;Then read them out loud. That would be good. I suppose.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Today's Accounting class is about Break Even Units and Break Even Sales. Kinda like puzzles. Nice. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Like Maths.&lt;br /&gt;I like Maths.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-4815405548655311553?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4815405548655311553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=4815405548655311553' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/4815405548655311553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/4815405548655311553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/05/115pm-tuesday.html' title='1.15pm. Tuesday.'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-7037886322194372242</id><published>2007-04-23T13:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-23T13:33:56.893+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dinner, Accident</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Yesterday my sister, Serena and her husband, Barnabas and child, Eleazar, my brother, Ian, and wife, Ruth, came down to have dinner with me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;And to be frank, I'm glad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Looking at them, I realised that it's just so nice to eat with family. Plus I didn't have to worry about how much the dinner would cost me. =)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Then they came to the apartment (Thankfully I cleaned up a bit), and it was about 11 when they left. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I slept. Till 5 something. Then slept till 7. Then played Maple till it was time for class. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Sigh What Bliss. I've got enough sleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Today as I was walking back from College, an car and a motorbike collided. Like really near me. Like 2 seconds of running (distance). I heard the crunch. It was... scary. Because it was all so near. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I heard Horn. Crunch. But luckily it wasn't very serious. I was glancing to the right to check for incoming cars when I heard Crunch. Looked to the left and saw the motorcyclist on the pavement. He got up groggily tho. Adjusted his motorbike. Mmm, the car's not in a really good shape tho. Nothing serious. Eyes goggled tho. On my part. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;And oh yea. This was what My sister said in the car.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Aiyak, ngo hou chi oi ta pei.&lt;br /&gt;Opps, I think I am going to fart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;o.O&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-7037886322194372242?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7037886322194372242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=7037886322194372242' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/7037886322194372242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/7037886322194372242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/04/yesterday-my-sister-serena-and-her.html' title='Dinner, Accident'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-1583738397738655167</id><published>2007-04-18T13:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-23T13:34:46.805+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Library Fine. Damnit</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Typing at the computer lab. I'm working again as lab assistant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Job Description&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lab Assistant.&lt;br /&gt;Duty : To pass people their papers according to their id numbers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;That's it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the occasional top up thing and changing of password. That I still have to get a hang on. And also complaints about crappy, malfunctioning computers. Yep. Bright and shiny day at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's class was good. I knew how to do ze homework. Heck, I'm even looking forward to doing that one-question homework! So you should know how much I like today's class. ^^;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;And I returned the Accounting Reference Book to the Library today and guess what.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;They charged me 9 bucks for it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;NINE BLOODY BUCKS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="mailto:$%%^@#$%#^@%#$^@#$@#$^@#$%@#$^#$%@#$%#$%"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;$%%^@#$%#^@%#$^@#$@#$^@#$%@#$^#$%@#$%#$%&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;One day = Rm1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Like wtfh roar!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I borrowed 3 books today. I shall just think of 3 bucks of rent per book. Then I wouldn't hit myself *that* hard.&lt;br /&gt;OH WEEE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I have LOTS of anime to watch! My friend (Or shall I say acquaintance) just passed me 70 GB of ANIMES!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly my world so VERY ROCKS.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-1583738397738655167?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1583738397738655167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=1583738397738655167' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/1583738397738655167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/1583738397738655167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/04/typing-at-computer-lab.html' title='Library Fine. Damnit'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-5423429480785144634</id><published>2007-04-06T12:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-13T16:52:07.734+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chan Wei Qiang for Today's event.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;So. Today I nearly woke up late again. Thank God I asked my friend to wake me up.&lt;br /&gt;So I had lunch just now. Then I tapau-ed Lekor.&lt;br /&gt;I waited for 5 mins. Under the hot sun.&lt;br /&gt;Then looking at the lekor practically swimming in oil... Really swimming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nearly lost my appetite tho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;The other day this guy approached me. It wasn't bad. I felt slightly flattered. Though he was friendly, I don't suppose this guy would have a lot of courage to go up and talk to a girl stranger but... yeah I wasn't mean to him. His confidence would have been utterly shattered had I had my hair day. His name is Wei Qiang. Chan I think. Slightly pimpled. Slightly. English speaking tho a stressed hint of the Chinese slang purring erm, the English accent. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Come to think of it, I think I forgot his face already. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Yay~ A new acquaintance~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-5423429480785144634?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5423429480785144634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=5423429480785144634' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/5423429480785144634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/5423429480785144634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/04/chan-wei-qiang-for-todays-event.html' title='Chan Wei Qiang for Today&apos;s event.'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-3093404895087827369</id><published>2007-04-02T12:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T01:05:02.087+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I missed my 1st Exam.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;AGH! I missed my first exam! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;.........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I slept at 6.30am yesterday. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I was studying. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Was supposed to wake up at 8.30am. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Thought 2 hours would be enough. How wrong I was.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Woke up to phone buzzing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Twas my friend, Khengmai.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Khengmai: Where were you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Me: omg omfg what time is it now?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Khengmai: We finished our exams.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Me: *stunned*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Khengmai: Hello?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Me: I'll call you back later [weakly]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;%&amp;amp;@%Q#$% HOW CAN I DAMN MISS MY EXAM?! WHAT?! HAS MY MOTHER PAID 350 BUCKS FOR ME TO MISS IT?! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;hahas. Luckily I can still resit for it. =D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;At 2pm. So now it's 1. Yep. Waiting. Oh yea. Lunchtime. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Ugh. What a traumatic start for the day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;-----&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Finished exam. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;And YAY! I got 66%!~ I was sooooo scared I'd fail. =.= &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Sigh. One more day to go. And mind you Paper 2 is going to be extra hard. So I decided not to sleep tonight. NO SLEEPING like today. zzzz 2 hours was the death of me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;-----&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I am NOT going to let anything get to me... grrr I am not going to let myself be maddened by something anymore. NOPE. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;'Go on, shout at me, I can't hear you.' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Tonight I went with my housemate for dinner. Mmm, tomorrow is my roommate's birthday. Mmm, darn, I didn't wrap the present. I bought earrings for her. Hoop ones. =) So I think I'll give her the gift at midnight. Stocked up on maggi and tissue paper just now at Watson. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;End.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-3093404895087827369?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3093404895087827369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=3093404895087827369' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/3093404895087827369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/3093404895087827369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/04/i-missed-my-1st-exam.html' title='I missed my 1st Exam.'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-3319146131328776364</id><published>2007-03-31T22:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-31T22:15:46.686+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I remember...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I remember a long time ago. Okay. Not that long but perhaps a year ago. Or two. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Soong and I were having this really down day because of guys and we decided to have an activity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;So she came to my house, we planned to watch DVDS and bum around. But in the end,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;we ate raspberry vanilla ice cream, one whole carton of it and we didn't finish it because it was kinda melted. Yuck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;The one I wanted wasn't available, I think my favourite flavour would be 'Lava' by Walls I think.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Then there was my niece and nephew, who entered the room many many times and didn't shut the door all the time (Irritating). And did I shout at them? I think I did. Oh Soong just reminded me that I took the cane. Of course to threathen la. Nothing much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Then there was Back Dormitory Boys, the one I intro to Soong. Yeh. We had a nice laugh and time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Then we watch a dvd. Half way she gotta go. Of course we chose a very pro girl dvd. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;'How to lose a guy in 10 days' *wink*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Soong reminded me of this today. And I was like 'Oh yea, I remember that day.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-3319146131328776364?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3319146131328776364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=3319146131328776364' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/3319146131328776364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/3319146131328776364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/03/i-remember.html' title='I remember...'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-4212141792172989744</id><published>2007-03-31T18:23:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-31T18:23:44.014+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Now I'm more confused than ever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-4212141792172989744?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4212141792172989744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=4212141792172989744' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/4212141792172989744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/4212141792172989744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/03/now-im-more-confused-than-ever.html' title=''/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563734908049251178.post-1491149300990982389</id><published>2007-03-30T17:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-30T17:12:56.197+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Anew</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Without realising it, I've stopped posting for about a month now. I just didn't write anything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Since my last rather emotional one, that last post really did take all of me. Stretched myself to take all that I have within me, but not quite, compiling everything into one. Well, since that I can't write. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Thinking about my life, last year was crazy. My last month was hell. But I'm struggling hard to cope with my life. Sometimes I just feel like breaking down and cry and in fact I did. But only sometimes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;One word.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;'Why?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;This is where I begin my life Anew. I shall be unsusceptible to hurt and well, let's just say without overreacting that my life is indeed in shambles and pieces. So if you know me just recently, I find it hard to communicate. I started going out about 2 weeks ago. I went to Cell. It did me good. I think that I need to go back closer to God. For when shit happens, I tend to stray further away. Because of the hurt. And circumstances. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Part of me wants to just stay cooped up at home because that's just exactly what I want to do. Part of me feels like... what... being a recluse for at least a month of two? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Please do not ask me what happened. It's so hard for me to relate to it when I am trying my best to forget it. But don't worry it's not as serious as me being raped or something like that, or molested. Nope. Nothing like that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;I am okay. Not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;Phew. What a post for a first one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4563734908049251178-1491149300990982389?l=tomyamgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1491149300990982389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4563734908049251178&amp;postID=1491149300990982389' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/1491149300990982389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4563734908049251178/posts/default/1491149300990982389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tomyamgirl.blogspot.com/2007/03/anew.html' title='Anew'/><author><name>Tom Yam Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00306869124232077958</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y143/twsanmy/1a-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
