<?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-27114373</id><updated>2011-04-22T06:22:09.730+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Isabelle's Unstable Mind</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>isaBeLLe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06101206680591431838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/17/70/7670771/26792254759021l.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27114373.post-116212555821893559</id><published>2006-10-29T20:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T20:39:18.230+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fucking Finals</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Wee. All alone in the dorm. Well, not totally alone. I mean, basta. If not for the fuckin' exam in Econ, I'll be dozing now. At home. Not here, but at home. Whadda?! Anyway, I hope I am motivated pursuing good grades the whole of my existence here in UPLB. Because my Uncle promised to give me 2,000 pesos if I do good every sem. And I know what GOOD for him means. The hell. So help me God. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Two thousand pesos. Just imagine. I won't let go of that amount. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Something's bothering me. I just can't tell here. Too public. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Halloween specials are freakin' me out. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;So much for my thoughts...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Must. Study. Now.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27114373-116212555821893559?l=isabelle461.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/feeds/116212555821893559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27114373&amp;postID=116212555821893559' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/116212555821893559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/116212555821893559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/2006/10/fucking-finals.html' title='Fucking Finals'/><author><name>isaBeLLe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06101206680591431838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/17/70/7670771/26792254759021l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27114373.post-116137296081482855</id><published>2006-10-21T03:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-21T03:36:00.833+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Narci [pictures, pictures]</title><content type='html'>narcissism n.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An excessive preoccupation with one’s own personal importance, or with achieving one’s own chosen goals rather than bonding with others, or with associating only with others whom one chooses. Sometimes psychologists associate narcissism with psychopathology and lack of conscience, but this need not be the case. But there may be lack of emotional empathy or bonding with others. Posted herewith are normal cases of narcissisn:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7639/2847/1600/eee.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 283px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 231px" height="232" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7639/2847/320/eee.jpg" width="307" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With my Culture buddies, Kim and Yan. Opposed to what is stated in the definition cited above, we are NOT psychopaths.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7639/2847/1600/Gandanikim.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="232" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7639/2847/320/Gandanikim.jpg" width="306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                Wee. Narci.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7639/2847/1600/wee.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 275px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px" height="231" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7639/2847/320/wee.jpg" width="280" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eto naman! Wala lang. Gusto ko lang ipaglandakan sa mundo ang kachokaran ng eklat ko.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27114373-116137296081482855?l=isabelle461.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/feeds/116137296081482855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27114373&amp;postID=116137296081482855' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/116137296081482855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/116137296081482855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/2006/10/narci-pictures-pictures.html' title='Narci [pictures, pictures]'/><author><name>isaBeLLe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06101206680591431838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/17/70/7670771/26792254759021l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27114373.post-116137212830379976</id><published>2006-10-21T03:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-21T03:22:08.320+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Between the Stars and the Ampitheater</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;Starlight, star bright, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;Wish I may, wish I might, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;Have my wish come true&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;tonight...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;Wee. Shooting stars. I fancy looking for these. Words aren't enought to express my awe. Just lying there with my friends, searching the skies for pieces of miracle...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;Miracles do exist. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;One word that'll summ this night: Wow (if you can consider this a word, oh well..whatever).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;Yea. Nothing in this world keeps playin' in my head. I luhrv Paris...I mean, her songs. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;And, for my dear blog, I did not forsake you. I missed you.  Really. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;Good news for me. My mom's going to NY, and I really wish I could go with her, watch Broadway and everything...heck, Christmas vacation starts December 22, which means a no-can-do for me...Sigh. It is bad news after all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Must. Sleep. Now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27114373-116137212830379976?l=isabelle461.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/feeds/116137212830379976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27114373&amp;postID=116137212830379976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/116137212830379976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/116137212830379976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/2006/10/between-stars-and-ampitheater.html' title='Between the Stars and the Ampitheater'/><author><name>isaBeLLe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06101206680591431838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/17/70/7670771/26792254759021l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27114373.post-115489978889230430</id><published>2006-08-07T05:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-07T05:29:48.910+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Forever bitter</title><content type='html'>Whatever happened to the sole reason of my existence in this University: pursuit for academic excellence. Fuck.&lt;br /&gt;I refure to adhere to society's perception of attaining academic excellence and using one's mental faculties to survive &gt;&gt; Am I having the symptoms of a future tambay who drinks alcohol until it becomes water for my system?&lt;br /&gt;Dropping -- a "graceful" exit for a subject you could not stand anymore. Much better than getting a 5.0. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been quite a Hell, if not for a certain someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My liver can't stand the drought. It badly needs some alcohol, and then some. This Thursday night must grace my liver with much love, much alcohol.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27114373-115489978889230430?l=isabelle461.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/feeds/115489978889230430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27114373&amp;postID=115489978889230430' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/115489978889230430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/115489978889230430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/2006/08/forever-bitter.html' title='Forever bitter'/><author><name>isaBeLLe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06101206680591431838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/17/70/7670771/26792254759021l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27114373.post-114788531115539717</id><published>2006-05-18T00:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-19T20:58:51.370+08:00</updated><title type='text'>lalalala</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;When all you do is hate the big bad world out there, and sulk for who-cares-whatever-reason, then all you do is hate AND sulk, then loathe yourself for too much hate occuring in your system right now. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It seems that the sunshine never did penetrate into your curtain--filled with too much hatred--masking whatever threshold that existed beneath it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;That's life. How good can it get when all you do is hate the big bad world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Poor you. All you do is hate, and sulk, then loathe yourself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Poor me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27114373-114788531115539717?l=isabelle461.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/feeds/114788531115539717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27114373&amp;postID=114788531115539717' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/114788531115539717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/114788531115539717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/2006/05/lalalala.html' title='lalalala'/><author><name>isaBeLLe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06101206680591431838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/17/70/7670771/26792254759021l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27114373.post-114718064632125471</id><published>2006-05-09T20:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-18T01:06:44.006+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bitch mode</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Math 36, math 36...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;My grades are "decreasing without bounds"...this, I do not doubt...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Kahit maka-tres lang ako huhu...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Will I write another essay, "Why I Failed Math __?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The introduction will again be, "This is a lesson of procrastination...always a lesson of procrastination." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;When the lights went out&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quoting Franco, "People are more beautiful in dimly lit places..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were having a meeting last night at SU, and T.I.M.I was the presiding officer.&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt; Later on, I will divulge you facts about this T.I. M.I guy.&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, the lights went out. Backlights of cellphones radiated his face, creating a really eerie kind of glow. I diverted my sight to something else, it was a &lt;strong&gt;REALLY CREEPY&lt;/strong&gt; sight, rather HE was really someone not worth looking at.&lt;br /&gt;Then, I remembered Franco's Blog Title (Correct me if i'm wrong Franco ^^)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People seem/are more beautiful in dimly lit places, but really, he is an exception.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how I put it. Really cruel, but try asking the [p]ipol who knows him, THEY know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus, we did not EAT him alive last night. Just to clarify things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He really looks something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7639/2847/1600/Snail-.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7639/2847/320/Snail-.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sooooooooooooooooo bad...Hehe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27114373-114718064632125471?l=isabelle461.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/feeds/114718064632125471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27114373&amp;postID=114718064632125471' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/114718064632125471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/114718064632125471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/2006/05/bitch-mode.html' title='Bitch mode'/><author><name>isaBeLLe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06101206680591431838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/17/70/7670771/26792254759021l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27114373.post-114677098808816523</id><published>2006-05-05T03:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-05T03:29:48.096+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Those Church Craps (unfinished)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Sleep wasn't able to conquer me. He stands defeated in my four-post bed, trying to sneak into the covers, waiting for me, to lull me into Dreamscape. I would really like to abandon my post and surrender myself to sleep's loving arms.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;That can wait.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Here's some God conversation, rather Church conversation with JM:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;currency_kabelle:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;mga catholic skul talaga&lt;br /&gt;currency_kabelle: hehe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;pencilcyanide: hahah onga&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: alam mo b&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: nowadays&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: ang tngin ko sa catholic church&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: bad religion na&lt;br /&gt;currency_kabelle: ur not alone&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: kse naman&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: andami nilang inalter&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: sa truth about christ&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: andmi nilang gnwang pauso&lt;br /&gt;currency_kabelle: i rili don't care kung naging u know cla ni magdalene&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: oo nga&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: snbi ngang&lt;br /&gt;currency_kabelle: tao xa nun e&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: jesus became a man&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: oo tama&lt;br /&gt;currency_kabelle: yep&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: saka to be a real human&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: klngn mo ren&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: gumawa ng sin&lt;br /&gt;currency_kabelle: onga&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: kse tao ka e&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: un ung mission mo&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: alamin kung bkt gnun ung mga tao noon&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: edi shmpre&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: klngn mo iexperience&lt;br /&gt;currency_kabelle: hehe..nga naman..mejo tinatamad na ako mag Sunday services chorva&lt;br /&gt;currency_kabelle: dahil dun&lt;br /&gt;currency_kabelle: pero me Diyos paren akong pinaniniwlaan&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: ako ngsisimba ako for my family&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: pro i dnt like d rituals na&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: pro i still&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: talk to god personally&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: i always talk to him&lt;br /&gt;currency_kabelle: uhmm...dba nag yfc ka?&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: yof&lt;br /&gt;currency_kabelle: sori yof&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: doon gnun e&lt;br /&gt;currency_kabelle: hehe&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: kso shmpre&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: bcos of religion&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: my rituals den&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: mga eklat&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: wc is not rly important&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: haha&lt;br /&gt;currency_kabelle: bsta u hav to belive&lt;br /&gt;pencilcyanide: yes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I have been thinking lately why I go to Church, as much as possible, every God-given Sundays. I am not really listening to the Liturgy of the Word, the Gospel, bla bla, but I do respond whenever I see an ALL, indicated in BOLD letters, in the misallete (is this right?) . I try my best listening to the Homily, but my mind shifts to anything NOT included inside the Church, figuratively speaking. I don't know. Is it the Devil whispering in my ear, "It's just cliche...it's crap" or "Such cliquish talks! Why bother listening?" Then my mind automatically shifts elsewhere.       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Is there really something wrong with the Church? Or is it just me? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Better continue this post tomorrow. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27114373-114677098808816523?l=isabelle461.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/feeds/114677098808816523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27114373&amp;postID=114677098808816523' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/114677098808816523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/114677098808816523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/2006/05/those-church-craps-unfinished.html' title='Those Church Craps (unfinished)'/><author><name>isaBeLLe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06101206680591431838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/17/70/7670771/26792254759021l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27114373.post-114675528749401674</id><published>2006-05-04T21:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-04T23:08:07.506+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Didn't Feel Like Studying Related Rates</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HOW DOES IT FEEL LIKE DIGGING YOUR OWN GRAVE? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Try asking Erap&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Read this. Just click the link below.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://news.inq7.net/breaking/index.php?index=2&amp;story_id=74679"&gt;http://news.inq7.net/breaking/index.php?index=2&amp;amp;story_id=74679&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Erap readies himself for death, literally, when he prepared his own tomb on his 15-hectare estate in Manila. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;So how does it feel knowing your final resting place? Seeing it before you, imagining your body, enclosed in a box, six feet under. And resting on YOUR patch of grass is YOUR epitaph with inscriptions like&lt;em&gt;, Forever in Our Hearts, Loving Daughter and Mother, On Angels Wings&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;Keep of my grass or I'll visit you, &lt;/em&gt;and so on. Does it or does it not creep you out and make the hairs on your back stand on an end? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I do fear the uncertainty. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;If ever Death's time to escort me to Afterlife befalls, I would like everyone to know that I would want to be cremated, and the urn that would contain my ashes must be black, for fun! Just to note, thank you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Everything is planned. At least something in my future would not be uncertain. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Blame Erap for this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE THIN LINE&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Of Presidents and Movie Stars &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"He is my idol. It is from President Reagan that I got the idea of running." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;--&lt;/strong&gt;Ousted President Joseph Estrada &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Awww shocks, how sweeeet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I could imagine Reagan saying &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm really really flattered and all, and you're like a really good movie star, but you are not an effective president as I am. Besides you're in prison buddy. I never could imagine ME behind bars, that is if you are really behind bars. I though&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7639/2847/1600/keren.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;t I'm your idol, I could never do somethin' like that dude. Maybe it's another Reagan or something...Thanks anyway. Hugs!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I wish Erap did not run at all. But what was done cannot be undone. Wish not granted. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Anyway, just feast your eyes on this. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7639/2847/1600/Clip.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="201" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7639/2847/320/Clip.jpg" width="344" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ERAP: Reagan, I adore you. I really idol you! Hugs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;REAGAN: Fuck off buddy. You're in prison!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I better study related rates. Fuck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27114373-114675528749401674?l=isabelle461.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/feeds/114675528749401674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27114373&amp;postID=114675528749401674' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/114675528749401674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/114675528749401674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/2006/05/didnt-feel-like-studying-related-rates.html' title='Didn&apos;t Feel Like Studying Related Rates'/><author><name>isaBeLLe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06101206680591431838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/17/70/7670771/26792254759021l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27114373.post-114667866233528978</id><published>2006-05-04T01:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-04T01:51:02.356+08:00</updated><title type='text'>[P]amilya</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Ess muss sein! What remains of life when a person rejects what he previously considered his mission?"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; -- Milan Kundera &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;What will remain of my life when I reject what I previously consider as my passion? [P] &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Iam still undecided whether I'll continue for next year or not...haay...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;If ever I will not, these moments, especially these people, will be etched in my mind.&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7639/2847/320/dsc00858.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7639/2847/320/dsc00856.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7639/2847/320/2726299189652l.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I'll miss them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27114373-114667866233528978?l=isabelle461.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/feeds/114667866233528978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27114373&amp;postID=114667866233528978' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/114667866233528978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/114667866233528978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/2006/05/pamilya.html' title='[P]amilya'/><author><name>isaBeLLe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06101206680591431838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/17/70/7670771/26792254759021l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27114373.post-114667655967371100</id><published>2006-05-04T00:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-04T01:15:59.686+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mumblings, grumblings</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;*Now I have to do this all over again...grrr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;NONSENSICALITY&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Is it just me or most of today's television shows are inane—specifically, our soap operas. They are hiding beneath a facade of a "distinct" storyline, when the truth is that they just present it in a "unique" way to divert the audiences' attention from a run-of-the-mill plot. They just add something to embellish the "same old same" story. The following are some of the incorrigible elements that seem to shadow the “distinct” plot:&lt;br /&gt;(1) Adding love teams to “the” love team &gt;&gt; the more the merrier&lt;br /&gt;(2) The setting &gt;&gt; going from place to place, even creating a magical world&lt;br /&gt;(3) Rags to riches – the protagonist’s economic status transition&lt;br /&gt;(4) Karma and revenge &gt;&gt; foundations of soap opera that the antagonist need to live with when the protagonist turns filthy rich&lt;br /&gt;(5) Love stories will remain the same. The thing is, there are but many twists and turns&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I guess this is television, rather soap operas. It is but for our viewing pleasure because it presents nothing but nothing aside from cliquish acts. I admit that this is too strong a claim, and I was not able to justify my argument, but this is how I see it. The massive proliferation of the television is disturbing that it can possibly dumb people, especially those watching soap operas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“Television is nothing more than a "toaster with pictures"&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7639/2847/1600/paris_hilton086.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7639/2847/320/paris_hilton086.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;--&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; FCC Chairman Mark Fowler&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;STUPID-NESS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I am hypothesizing that you know Paris Hilton, the blonde heiress who spent money to patent the phrase, “That’s hot™” reasoning out that she was the one who started the kewl phrase. Woa.&lt;br /&gt;Just so you would know, Paris Hilton thought that Wal-Mart is a store selling walls. How stupid can she get? Really?&lt;br /&gt;But did you know that you can make tons of money out of stupidity? The thin line that hinders you from being filthy rich (like Paris) is that you really, really need to be sexy, so your being stupid looks really cute, and you have a sex video posted in the internet and proliferated worldwide. Now, I assure you, you will be just like Paris Hilton, the blonde girl everyone dreams of becoming. Well, not everyone though. Count me out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I never really wanted to be like her&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;or am I just bitter?&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/27114373-114667655967371100?l=isabelle461.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/feeds/114667655967371100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27114373&amp;postID=114667655967371100' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/114667655967371100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/114667655967371100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/2006/05/mumblings-grumblings.html' title='Mumblings, grumblings'/><author><name>isaBeLLe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06101206680591431838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/17/70/7670771/26792254759021l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27114373.post-114659229662853284</id><published>2006-05-03T00:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T01:59:20.056+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I feel like falling...</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7639/2847/320/sanmig_storong.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FUCK LIFE.&lt;/strong&gt; I'm really &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;this &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;close to breaking down. If only I could drink the night away and light cigs for the sake of forgetting everything that really shits me out in this world--if not for the fucking curfew. I really feel like sulking today. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;REASONS WHY I SO HATED THE WORLD YESTERDAY (AND TODAY):&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;DEAR READER: THE SUCCEEDING REASONS ARE FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY BROKEN HEART (how cliquish) AND YOU HAVE NO RIGHT WHATSOEVER IN DISPARAGING MY OPEN LETTER OF ANGER TO THE WORLD. FUCK OFF. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1) TIMY was appointed as the -- of the --. I expected Totoy Mowla to be the --, but hell no. I respect the EIC'S authority AND right in choosing the constituents of the editorial board, but I was really disappointed as hell when I heard the news. I do not know TIMY personally and I do admit that I have no right to OUST him and judge him for the way he was created, but I do know that I have every right to voice my opinion whenever something is wrong in the way he is manipulating our drafts or managing the staff. Whenever that time comes, the door will always be open for me to leave, and leaving -- means swallowing my pride. There are other means of serving the studentry. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;2) I'm taking only one subject this summer. Math 36. Five units. This means I'm spending three hours and thirty minutes a day for this sole subject--subject I'm really close to failing. What irritates me most is that I only take one subject, but I'm not doing anything about my approximately below 60 grades. I really hate myself. TC7's a &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;phonebook&lt;/span&gt;, but I can't do anything about it. I need to endure its thickness and the mind-wracking concepts inside. There still is a chance...I can see the light...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;3) I was about to watch Little Manhattan in my laptop, but it was not able to troubleshoot and there is a problem with Windows 2000...something I don't really know about, which pissed me off and made me curse a dozen times. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;4) I really hate myself for falling. I should have known from the start that something that is not meant to be is not meant to be. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;So much for sulking. Well, this is something between me and a bottle of beer, which I can't have right now. I need to redeem myself from this disaster; free myself from the monster that I am now; liberate myself from anger's embrace. Things are capable of changing, right? Well, for some...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27114373-114659229662853284?l=isabelle461.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/feeds/114659229662853284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27114373&amp;postID=114659229662853284' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/114659229662853284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27114373/posts/default/114659229662853284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://isabelle461.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-feel-like-falling.html' title='I feel like falling...'/><author><name>isaBeLLe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06101206680591431838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos.friendster.com/photos/17/70/7670771/26792254759021l.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
