tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66576536054341821052024-03-21T21:57:39.304+08:00In My Secret PlaceAnjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16741269619927412007noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6657653605434182105.post-73838855000303831382010-04-08T23:02:00.002+08:002010-04-08T23:09:12.135+08:00My nose grows longer every night.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_s9aPPUn4Kklnq1tsFCfr2MpPj75lYpmnR3_VnjYS4mhk210X9pmPbE4MGHh2cACchl3eC5Aiy-ikjjwH5z2SGltGwyQajsvFQEmbo7qm1a8Oq-FVxzCh8pqJS7dvvtC7qgfnAFNio4/s1600/IMG_8739-pola2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 310px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_s9aPPUn4Kklnq1tsFCfr2MpPj75lYpmnR3_VnjYS4mhk210X9pmPbE4MGHh2cACchl3eC5Aiy-ikjjwH5z2SGltGwyQajsvFQEmbo7qm1a8Oq-FVxzCh8pqJS7dvvtC7qgfnAFNio4/s320/IMG_8739-pola2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457783826168011458" border="0" /></a><br />For years, I’ve been going inside children’s bedrooms, sharing bedtime stories to send them to their dreams. They fall asleep happily, and I am paid considerably.<br /><br />At night, I tell myself my own bedtime stories to send me to my dreams. In my stories, I am an engineer, a meteorologist, a fireman. In my stories, I am happy. In my stories, everything is the way it should be.<br /><br />But make believe is hard to believe.<br /><br />Sometimes, they call us storytellers lie-tellers.Anjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16741269619927412007noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6657653605434182105.post-299304557093567882009-10-24T18:17:00.003+08:002009-10-24T18:26:16.292+08:00Happy Post #2:<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoaIBu6TW7jDNcUlkAVxmhcUr_7OwyUqMeb_BXfGauGLqKURAyIN9Qi2mDXRvvTuKjwZBZ1rP3J-1NLrtOUNAMSCncVcmugZCGRQA8q-Lfj60_Rbm30avSNZ05SOC2NTDwLgPQ0sB_rjA/s1600-h/happyroadtrip.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396110505321507010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoaIBu6TW7jDNcUlkAVxmhcUr_7OwyUqMeb_BXfGauGLqKURAyIN9Qi2mDXRvvTuKjwZBZ1rP3J-1NLrtOUNAMSCncVcmugZCGRQA8q-Lfj60_Rbm30avSNZ05SOC2NTDwLgPQ0sB_rjA/s320/happyroadtrip.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Warm afternoons in the car, rocking out to 90s alternative hits, pretending we were in a summer road trip movie.</div>Anjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16741269619927412007noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6657653605434182105.post-50561267012425939872009-10-19T00:59:00.002+08:002009-10-19T01:03:35.094+08:00And I might have to add, the rest of 2009, too.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOXLNWnd9tFB1W8FQKXAhCIF7DkI8dTkB60SP5lC4YiY4uDsRiv48D-AeYQvVDEJE9aCqUe7uqAneR5Vyy0V0ywLpu-Hu9tTF-MpcQG5FMu0f48621fSLi5FYNOAJBAnSW_QlSsukRQJg/s1600-h/september.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 313px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOXLNWnd9tFB1W8FQKXAhCIF7DkI8dTkB60SP5lC4YiY4uDsRiv48D-AeYQvVDEJE9aCqUe7uqAneR5Vyy0V0ywLpu-Hu9tTF-MpcQG5FMu0f48621fSLi5FYNOAJBAnSW_QlSsukRQJg/s320/september.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393985910068725218" /></a>"How did you get to be so wise?"<div>"September happened."</div>Anjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16741269619927412007noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6657653605434182105.post-23134433450581517752009-10-01T22:36:00.004+08:002009-10-01T22:49:05.524+08:00The aftermath is always the hardest part.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3zrN2hxpnTnQoN8GawBMXvdz6D4RJgufZ6pXWZa1hBX0Rh4Jy-ZKSss7AExoOJhU4Kv9JFZFzW1Y9l0A8O14dvk7l2Pkw_WPLNYwWAStPsXJXj8RtZMP1fRXOWP0xPSypOfDt-aMr_3o/s1600-h/instability.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387641143529904082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 313px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3zrN2hxpnTnQoN8GawBMXvdz6D4RJgufZ6pXWZa1hBX0Rh4Jy-ZKSss7AExoOJhU4Kv9JFZFzW1Y9l0A8O14dvk7l2Pkw_WPLNYwWAStPsXJXj8RtZMP1fRXOWP0xPSypOfDt-aMr_3o/s320/instability.jpg" border="0" /></a>Have you ever seen the world collapse right before your eyes?<br /><br />More importantly, have you ever seen the world build itself back together?Anjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16741269619927412007noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6657653605434182105.post-57617728955974890832009-10-01T22:21:00.003+08:002009-10-01T22:47:24.053+08:00There is always a third option.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP_Jt_WYJATQkOBLMGjjH6EeSLR6X_kPY7wfvz6hIP2LRP6FVh4HCC2THO1XfnRJJXYdjy5R2bh8yQZfRDsUoQxiWlBgA9Pm0zWilXOlAbITJiATa5VErnkElYvTkrVm0ipfTW954nyzg/s1600-h/climbatree.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387639663481409762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 314px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP_Jt_WYJATQkOBLMGjjH6EeSLR6X_kPY7wfvz6hIP2LRP6FVh4HCC2THO1XfnRJJXYdjy5R2bh8yQZfRDsUoQxiWlBgA9Pm0zWilXOlAbITJiATa5VErnkElYvTkrVm0ipfTW954nyzg/s320/climbatree.jpg" border="0" /></a>In this lifetime of finding yourself deep in floodwaters, in twisted emotions and in tough jobs, you thought you could only sink into deeper water or swim furiously against the tides.<br /><br />You never thought you could climb into higher ground.<br /><br />It’s time for you to find a little peace of mind.Anjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16741269619927412007noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6657653605434182105.post-67662325472509162222009-09-16T22:45:00.002+08:002009-09-16T22:52:46.227+08:00Don’t dream it’s over. Or: Don’t dream. It’s over.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382077180080843346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 309px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtJAOSwxEGNcestWBYrVEvPpL8ANc_CAnTND5W376drKKPvjUxbJjmlWsOzVaWhfhhb0d7fiT4N3XSIaqJhSPDVTYrFlJO_niyAlTv9Rs2qHkL24Frxk7lB0P8Q-5394mrjwGfxQYxz8Y/s320/turningpoint.jpg" border="0" />The protagonist then arrives at a major hurdle wherein he begins to question the goal he set out for himself at the beginning of our story. With everything taken from him, the protagonist probes deeper into his problem, and sometimes, with the aid of an important person or object, experiences catharsis and reflection over what has happened and what he has to do. He gathers strength from this and arrives at another point of decision on whether or not he should continue to reach for his goal.<sup>1</sup><br /><br />I’ve always wanted to teach film. It’s the story of my life.<br /><br /><sup>1</sup><small>Even if he decides to pursue it, the protagonist does not always win.</small>Anjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16741269619927412007noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6657653605434182105.post-74108221298614452402009-09-16T01:43:00.003+08:002009-09-16T01:48:18.008+08:00The pattern will form me.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhySczqo-5Ngql0Mn1sP9-ZiBO2MPn2wqvh-SAfgJYOYIdUDDLlJGAgNfVWGVz_ViH2-e65bbBgLN5kL0wfA2pDv254Ac3akaWzFBSjhMRtIPRpqXuliuMW2jhCRx80OSLZh2iZ5hfKAfQ/s1600-h/cloudwatching.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381752064836518162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 311px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhySczqo-5Ngql0Mn1sP9-ZiBO2MPn2wqvh-SAfgJYOYIdUDDLlJGAgNfVWGVz_ViH2-e65bbBgLN5kL0wfA2pDv254Ac3akaWzFBSjhMRtIPRpqXuliuMW2jhCRx80OSLZh2iZ5hfKAfQ/s320/cloudwatching.jpg" border="0" /></a>One day, I will return to this. I will remember what it is like to dream, to be flighty, to feel. I will see images that nobody else can counter, because the images will be drifting before anybody notices.<br /><br />I, too, will be drifting before anybody notices.<br /><br /><div></div>Anjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16741269619927412007noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6657653605434182105.post-65426017356007550492009-09-16T01:39:00.002+08:002009-09-16T01:43:53.669+08:00I celebrated by wearing a souvenir t-shirt.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjI62DGynPi1xtAnFFi6-TcfJ37cb3j7w7hPS-mx_nY_MMqehJv1jF5oJZrOCpgkc92KckPgVNLGeDwBLog200naU3je8wBfSQ8sl-7ykOW-11gM2dNZFECNgNtgb1amMR7uUJISo6_I/s1600-h/escape.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381750628546517714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 310px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjI62DGynPi1xtAnFFi6-TcfJ37cb3j7w7hPS-mx_nY_MMqehJv1jF5oJZrOCpgkc92KckPgVNLGeDwBLog200naU3je8wBfSQ8sl-7ykOW-11gM2dNZFECNgNtgb1amMR7uUJISo6_I/s320/escape.jpg" border="0" /></a> <br />A year ago, I thought I found an escape route. It was a shortcut towards temporary happiness.<br />Soon after that, I found myself back in the hole.<br /><br />It's never really an escape until you're completely free.Anjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16741269619927412007noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6657653605434182105.post-60262900993489338442009-07-18T00:19:00.001+08:002009-07-18T00:22:44.902+08:00Happy Post #1:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgojCxwe1bkQhnCI0Aoh6SDwTNOar-k1LMR1fjh9PDBAJ5hiiFVw-wHauJyVhsl4uoHZBAoIYI5Ikm0zWclHht2Zatwqz1jfj5HNmpqeaylWJxXHaJgTT9qlu5tOBs_IH4rswA1u4O8e9E/s1600-h/happylaundry.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 164px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgojCxwe1bkQhnCI0Aoh6SDwTNOar-k1LMR1fjh9PDBAJ5hiiFVw-wHauJyVhsl4uoHZBAoIYI5Ikm0zWclHht2Zatwqz1jfj5HNmpqeaylWJxXHaJgTT9qlu5tOBs_IH4rswA1u4O8e9E/s320/happylaundry.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359465099997647970" border="0" /></a>The smell of freshly laundered sheets when I go to bed at night.Anjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16741269619927412007noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6657653605434182105.post-71694723336379265712009-07-16T11:25:00.000+08:002009-07-16T11:26:08.084+08:00Why nature won't take its course (I'm tired of this season)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfQ8tMfpp4F7T7LSMrVJ8aNGu6tCd64x96U2cvx-pPuAo7h_nzulauGjM48NqVM93_39AfY93N8516Ow3ZLYE7T7R2eZVxaNv6fbTC3diyxlOCDLhkIT5WfyFDzQcyFHUWmDvWWNmEbCc/s1600-h/stuck.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358411838786144498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 313px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfQ8tMfpp4F7T7LSMrVJ8aNGu6tCd64x96U2cvx-pPuAo7h_nzulauGjM48NqVM93_39AfY93N8516Ow3ZLYE7T7R2eZVxaNv6fbTC3diyxlOCDLhkIT5WfyFDzQcyFHUWmDvWWNmEbCc/s320/stuck.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I thought I’d let you know that they stopped growing when you took off.<br /><p>You promised then that nothing would change.<br /></p><p>Nothing did.<br /></p>Anjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16741269619927412007noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6657653605434182105.post-77692915931074021242009-07-16T11:16:00.000+08:002009-07-16T11:17:19.174+08:00How does one tell what's right from what's left?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY1VsaaZgMQeCw3ggA6ZH_RZjda6EpNdrC1lhokJHN9Pv9tJCVaq1Ge1Bz706WdmpCXlqSXX4_parlJEVhdBXekfciOirWQaKALqCCiGjPOkBfPfU4uC2IO6Rs0wUOMSB4LRQEPIu1EfI/s1600-h/unfinished.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358411193341212466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 312px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY1VsaaZgMQeCw3ggA6ZH_RZjda6EpNdrC1lhokJHN9Pv9tJCVaq1Ge1Bz706WdmpCXlqSXX4_parlJEVhdBXekfciOirWQaKALqCCiGjPOkBfPfU4uC2IO6Rs0wUOMSB4LRQEPIu1EfI/s320/unfinished.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I continue to believe that I am a piece of artwork left unfinished.<br /><p>The operative word here being <span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">left</span>.</p>Anjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16741269619927412007noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6657653605434182105.post-47111288411832546842009-07-09T23:17:00.002+08:002009-07-09T23:23:31.171+08:00There are truths in those dares.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6W_SqHg8ebi0v0jCQqd1NTNF8lLKFuoqnR9x1iBnhBAAUv5bWORt2BNXzVFPBv4mD8fv0_F9yjC5lUfcEAjNuU6_8ToG44n9BRF8BROW-TH2a9ZWv1lNqXsHWwFNCAWU2sJJQU05_YU/s1600-h/truthordare.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 310px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6W_SqHg8ebi0v0jCQqd1NTNF8lLKFuoqnR9x1iBnhBAAUv5bWORt2BNXzVFPBv4mD8fv0_F9yjC5lUfcEAjNuU6_8ToG44n9BRF8BROW-TH2a9ZWv1lNqXsHWwFNCAWU2sJJQU05_YU/s320/truthordare.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356480287163225394" border="0" /></a>The only thing worse than realizing that last night's actions were so wrong is realizing that last night's feelings were so right.<br /><br />We promise to stick to parlor games next time.Anjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16741269619927412007noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6657653605434182105.post-49709001722740606212009-06-23T23:35:00.001+08:002009-06-24T00:04:22.972+08:00You'll never win the game if you don't know where to hide.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1t2LqV3dV4cD2Rn1B6oprtszikl3K_RIbvFW5Wzmbt10IR4HHg_m_fHpTKIm4jt6Mh526Oc0J5nqTpX9Tf_2wQdzKfv-gF109okkQUAKRsdjxX55C9c38MBWX1WuFHCzmyyJCV0lPhA8/s1600-h/1848-chaseflight.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1t2LqV3dV4cD2Rn1B6oprtszikl3K_RIbvFW5Wzmbt10IR4HHg_m_fHpTKIm4jt6Mh526Oc0J5nqTpX9Tf_2wQdzKfv-gF109okkQUAKRsdjxX55C9c38MBWX1WuFHCzmyyJCV0lPhA8/s320/1848-chaseflight.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350554067853829858" /></a><br />I've stopped looking for you. The sad part is, I know exactly where to find you.<br /><br />Predictability is a turn-off.Anjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16741269619927412007noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6657653605434182105.post-34287442859435048972009-06-23T23:23:00.003+08:002009-06-23T23:35:02.363+08:00Afraid of people, afraid of spaces.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2XuJjy791aehURs3U5afs0Bdjr4RKWDRefkZOIC0vvaYDwiKlSXY5Tkwvf-i1J8HgB5tRzSfjfVIOvoWLexHXuWDvHO0qZWBnCvid0qdqxLXoxxqnKgHEmzRKR1PWTKpyOFocDOhTha4/s1600-h/0144-2-breathing.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 313px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2XuJjy791aehURs3U5afs0Bdjr4RKWDRefkZOIC0vvaYDwiKlSXY5Tkwvf-i1J8HgB5tRzSfjfVIOvoWLexHXuWDvHO0qZWBnCvid0qdqxLXoxxqnKgHEmzRKR1PWTKpyOFocDOhTha4/s320/0144-2-breathing.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350546187736407426" /></a><p>I stopped breathing and you liked it better that way.</p> <p>The next time I catch your attention, it will be the death of me.</p> <p>I hope you like it.</p>Anjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16741269619927412007noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6657653605434182105.post-65420962634623136732009-06-07T00:55:00.002+08:002009-06-07T01:25:41.289+08:00And the world wouldn't have been blurry if not for the tears.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinA36zFtHlccobxX5YliBoYGaaxO5_V5IiH6-KmPysEOwfu4heab-a8m8Y-WHrO-bcAXvLV_4VkJFb6URw6cVGIjPKhwHu_4_54KFobwgCjJgRD7NLOmJfH3PqygZlXztzcIvDjsZ9eD8/s1600-h/IMG_8373-pola.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 312px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinA36zFtHlccobxX5YliBoYGaaxO5_V5IiH6-KmPysEOwfu4heab-a8m8Y-WHrO-bcAXvLV_4VkJFb6URw6cVGIjPKhwHu_4_54KFobwgCjJgRD7NLOmJfH3PqygZlXztzcIvDjsZ9eD8/s320/IMG_8373-pola.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344262088799364434" /></a>I watched her that night, as she forced the alcohol inside her system. Nobody stopped her. She wanted to be wild. She wanted the attention. She wanted to have fun.<br /><br />Instead, she sat in a corner and sulked and cried all night. The night before, she had cried in bed until sunrise.<br /><br />They say the alcohol numbs the pain.<br /><br />No. The pain numbs the alcohol.Anjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16741269619927412007noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6657653605434182105.post-21423613792861464072009-06-07T00:45:00.003+08:002009-07-09T23:28:54.634+08:00You're only good at selling out. And then getting lost.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNQqpEwsZEPL3Ur8ofwh33CCIH-AEqOe1Vqe0fbAVaHbDw_YtP1CMpt1x0DuAwC3l-hgNvsFR1LBpxNBN2YG4GHY6TFlYuKfgNRqVndx1qfqhEzYcNFQbo4AybLqJaMawvO_J9Bfjw1fo/s1600-h/5699-hike.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 312px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNQqpEwsZEPL3Ur8ofwh33CCIH-AEqOe1Vqe0fbAVaHbDw_YtP1CMpt1x0DuAwC3l-hgNvsFR1LBpxNBN2YG4GHY6TFlYuKfgNRqVndx1qfqhEzYcNFQbo4AybLqJaMawvO_J9Bfjw1fo/s320/5699-hike.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344258122153262274" border="0" /></a>You can keep telling yourself not to be scared, but that won't stop the bats from surprising you.<br />You can keep telling yourself not to fall in love, but that won't stop him from kissing you.<br />You can keep telling yourself that the past is over, but that won't stop the past from creeping up to you.<br /><br />You never really were good with sales talk, anyway.Anjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16741269619927412007noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6657653605434182105.post-1830824665789917912009-05-26T09:07:00.004+08:002009-05-27T01:42:04.143+08:00And ending up paying for the slob's drink.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmwO8ggTRIXHJfqSq9Gd-8OfGxGGTcmmuyN6YqTSzka1wAA578gHWBERHXQYkslQ5v1Oq5_HLkdH0etzmChyphenhyphenlISEjNIbBapZs7yX2JIvCi3PKn6Ih2flJDKhN1WhPwx6a1o56TBbg1fTU/s1600-h/IMG_7947.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 313px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmwO8ggTRIXHJfqSq9Gd-8OfGxGGTcmmuyN6YqTSzka1wAA578gHWBERHXQYkslQ5v1Oq5_HLkdH0etzmChyphenhyphenlISEjNIbBapZs7yX2JIvCi3PKn6Ih2flJDKhN1WhPwx6a1o56TBbg1fTU/s320/IMG_7947.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339933377602598178" border="0" /></a>Best friends come together because of their shared crises: the first time they shave their legs, the memories of first loves, the remnants of last loves, and an encounter with a creepy Caucasian slob who hit on them while being a sexist jerk.Anjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16741269619927412007noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6657653605434182105.post-53150065688683100612009-05-24T23:19:00.006+08:002009-05-24T23:38:46.555+08:00I also decided to become a cyborg.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpiTuAHFTft-7v8DUuXudV6rCwF-SEMGKwjcVOqmjfb4I-al_fXe00jKeDy_G2xGGMXlzuHaemnReq88yTDwEai5SRW5DTKBvZq7MHTeJdq6OjaGITnUSf1wfTbZqFJQjprLHycqNfYO0/s1600-h/IMG_1087-2-pola.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></span><img style="text-decoration: underline;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 311px; height: 320px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpiTuAHFTft-7v8DUuXudV6rCwF-SEMGKwjcVOqmjfb4I-al_fXe00jKeDy_G2xGGMXlzuHaemnReq88yTDwEai5SRW5DTKBvZq7MHTeJdq6OjaGITnUSf1wfTbZqFJQjprLHycqNfYO0/s320/IMG_1087-2-pola.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339413265403451922" /></a><div></div><span><span><br />"What's been going on with you?"<br />"Not much. A lot. I stopped falling in love. And you?"<br />"I fell in love."<br />"I know."<br />"Does that mean you could be my rebound, my meantime, if I ever needed one, since your heart will never be broken again?"<br />"I wouldn't know. I never listen to my heart anymore."</span></span><div><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "></p></div>Anjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16741269619927412007noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6657653605434182105.post-14722263195034889422008-12-07T04:03:00.000+08:002008-12-07T04:03:01.040+08:00The answer is up there<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiks2j9KtIj5IeMc2gmyfrljSh8FyZ0zFdzj8JkjBt0h9X6HTBz6ClPCqxF8PjYSMSdfSUVmln8t93BDRaxHucr84pOLoPgg73HMU_HRY5-EI4vwQLuuGL86LrH_txDhO8IEVmyex67tdM/s1600-h/DSC00012.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="text-decoration: underline;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 256px; height: 320px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiks2j9KtIj5IeMc2gmyfrljSh8FyZ0zFdzj8JkjBt0h9X6HTBz6ClPCqxF8PjYSMSdfSUVmln8t93BDRaxHucr84pOLoPgg73HMU_HRY5-EI4vwQLuuGL86LrH_txDhO8IEVmyex67tdM/s320/DSC00012.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276768061634181218" /></a>I miss cloud-watching. That side of me is back, and I am feeling good about it.Anjhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16741269619927412007noreply@blogger.com0