<?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-7629010</id><updated>2011-04-22T06:55:46.981+08:00</updated><category term='bunny'/><category term='love'/><category term='life'/><title type='text'>There she goes, my beautiful world</title><subtitle type='html'>The wintergreen, the juniper
The cornflower and the chicory
All the words you said to me
Still vibrating in the air
The elm, the ash and the linden tree
The dark and deep, enchanted sea
The trembling moon and the stars unfurled
There she goes, my beautiful world
There she goes, my beautiful world
There she goes, my beautiful world
There she goes, my beautiful world
There she goes again
</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>93</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-5791370854197801860</id><published>2009-02-27T23:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T23:08:40.046+08:00</updated><title type='text'>test</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Your result for The Personality Defect Test...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;h4&gt;Hippie&lt;/h4&gt;&lt;p&gt;You are 14% Rational, 86% Extroverted, 43% Brutal, and 43% Arrogant.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://cdn.okcimg.com/php/load_okc_image.php/images/0x0/0x0/0/18429102114382799998.jpeg" width="249" height="350" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                &lt;div&gt;You are the Hippie!  Characterized by a strong sense of extroversion, irrationality, gentleness, humility, and a faint scent of marijuana, you no doubt frolic through fields preaching peace and free love!  Immediately following that, you then frolic to the hospital with herpes!  You are probably either very spiritual or needlessly paranoid about "the man", like most hippies, as a result of your focus on intuition and feelings over cold, brutal logic.  You probably enjoy poetry, especially beatnik ultra-liberal crap about how horrible fascism is, even though your suburbanized, sheltered idea of "fascism" is having to pay two dollars per gallon at the gas pump.  You are also very, very social.  And like any hippie who would have no qualms about hitchiking across the country just to meet some interesting people, you also love to interact with others, even complete strangers.  Though I highly doubt they love to interact with you!  Because we know most any hippie is peace-loving and humble, it stands to reason that you, as well, are terribly gentle and humble, almost to the point of revulsion.  Your carefree attitude of peace and harmony is probably very, very sickening to realists or cynics or anyone who isn't a hippie, to tell the truth.  In short, your personality is defective because you are overly emotional, extroverted, gentle, and humble--thus making you an annoying hippie.  Now go do your drugs and have sex with filthy bearded men in tye dye shirts.&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;To put it less negatively:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;1.  You are more INTUITIVE than rational.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;2.  You are more EXTROVERTED than introverted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;3.  You are more GENTLE than brutal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;4.  You are more HUMBLE than arrogant.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Compatibility:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your exact opposite is the &lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/describescore?testid="4741219933576750506&amp;amp;score0="100&amp;amp;score1="0&amp;amp;score2="100&amp;amp;score3="100"&gt;Sociopath&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other personalities you would probably get along with are the &lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/describescore?testid="4741219933576750506&amp;amp;score0="100&amp;amp;score1="100&amp;amp;score2="0&amp;amp;score3="0"&gt;Hand-Raiser&lt;/a&gt;, the &lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/describescore?testid="4741219933576750506&amp;amp;score0="0&amp;amp;score1="100&amp;amp;score2="0&amp;amp;score3="100"&gt;Televangelist&lt;/a&gt;, and the &lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/describescore?testid="4741219933576750506&amp;amp;score0="100&amp;amp;score1="0&amp;amp;score2="0&amp;amp;score3="0"&gt;Robot&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;If you scored near fifty percent for a certain trait (42%-58%), you could very well go either way.  For example, someone with 42% Extroversion is slightly leaning towards being an introvert, but is close enough to being an extrovert to be classified that way as well.  Below is a list of the other personality types so that you can determine which other possible categories you may fill if you scored near fifty percent for certain traits.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;The other personality types:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/describescore?testid="4741219933576750506&amp;amp;score0="0&amp;amp;score1="0&amp;amp;score2="0&amp;amp;score3="0"&gt;The Emo Kid&lt;/a&gt;:  &lt;i&gt;Intuitive, Introverted, Gentle, Humble.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/describescore?testid="4741219933576750506&amp;amp;score0="0&amp;amp;score1="0&amp;amp;score2="0&amp;amp;score3="100"&gt;The Starving Artist&lt;/a&gt;:  &lt;i&gt;Intuitive, Introverted, Gentle, Arrogant.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/describescore?testid="4741219933576750506&amp;amp;score0="0&amp;amp;score1="0&amp;amp;score2="100&amp;amp;score3="0"&gt;The Bitch-Slap&lt;/a&gt;:  &lt;i&gt;Intuitive, Introverted, Brutal, Humble.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/describescore?testid="4741219933576750506&amp;amp;score0="0&amp;amp;score1="0&amp;amp;score2="100&amp;amp;score3="100"&gt;The Brute&lt;/a&gt;:  &lt;i&gt;Intuitive, Introverted, Brutal, Arrogant.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/describescore?testid="4741219933576750506&amp;amp;score0="0&amp;amp;score1="100&amp;amp;score2="0&amp;amp;score3="0"&gt;The Hippie&lt;/a&gt;:  &lt;i&gt;Intuitive, Extroverted, Gentle, Humble.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/describescore?testid="4741219933576750506&amp;amp;score0="0&amp;amp;score1="100&amp;amp;score2="0&amp;amp;score3="100"&gt;The Televangelist&lt;/a&gt;:  &lt;i&gt;Intuitive, Extroverted, Gentle, Arrogant.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/describescore?testid="4741219933576750506&amp;amp;score0="0&amp;amp;score1="100&amp;amp;score2="100&amp;amp;score3="0"&gt;The Schoolyard Bully&lt;/a&gt;:  &lt;i&gt;Intuitive, Extroverted, Brutal, Humble.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/describescore?testid="4741219933576750506&amp;amp;score0="0&amp;amp;score1="100&amp;amp;score2="100&amp;amp;score3="100"&gt;The Class Clown&lt;/a&gt;:  &lt;i&gt;Intuitive, Extroverted, Brutal, Arrogant.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/describescore?testid="4741219933576750506&amp;amp;score0="100&amp;amp;score1="0&amp;amp;score2="0&amp;amp;score3="0"&gt;The Robot&lt;/a&gt;:  &lt;i&gt;Rational, Introverted, Gentle, Humble.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/describescore?testid="4741219933576750506&amp;amp;score0="100&amp;amp;score1="0&amp;amp;score2="0&amp;amp;score3="100"&gt;The Haughty Intellectual&lt;/a&gt;:  &lt;i&gt;Rational, Introverted, Gentle, Arrogant.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/describescore?testid="4741219933576750506&amp;amp;score0="100&amp;amp;score1="0&amp;amp;score2="100&amp;amp;score3="0"&gt;The Spiteful Loner&lt;/a&gt;:  &lt;i&gt;Rational, Introverted, Brutal, Humble.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/describescore?testid="4741219933576750506&amp;amp;score0="100&amp;amp;score1="0&amp;amp;score2="100&amp;amp;score3="100"&gt;The Sociopath&lt;/a&gt;:  &lt;i&gt;Rational, Introverted, Brutal, Arrogant.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/describescore?testid="4741219933576750506&amp;amp;score0="100&amp;amp;score1="100&amp;amp;score2="0&amp;amp;score3="0"&gt;The Hand-Raiser&lt;/a&gt;:  &lt;i&gt;Rational, Extroverted, Gentle, Humble.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/describescore?testid="4741219933576750506&amp;amp;score0="100&amp;amp;score1="100&amp;amp;score2="0&amp;amp;score3="100"&gt;The Braggart&lt;/a&gt;:  &lt;i&gt;Rational, Extroverted, Gentle, Arrogant.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/describescore?testid="4741219933576750506&amp;amp;score0="100&amp;amp;score1="100&amp;amp;score2="100&amp;amp;score3="0"&gt;The Capitalist Pig&lt;/a&gt;:  &lt;i&gt;Rational, Extroverted, Brutal, Humble.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/describescore?testid="4741219933576750506&amp;amp;score0="100&amp;amp;score1="100&amp;amp;score2="100&amp;amp;score3="100"&gt;The Smartass&lt;/a&gt;:  &lt;i&gt;Rational, Extroverted, Brutal, Arrogant.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be sure to take my &lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/take?testid="13372526327873131397"&gt;Sublime Philosophical Crap Test&lt;/a&gt; if you are interested in taking a slightly more &lt;i&gt;intellectual&lt;/i&gt; test that has just as many insane ramblings as this one does!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;About Saint_Gasoline&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a self-proclaimed pseudo-intellectual who loves dashes.  I enjoy science, philosophy, and fart jokes and water balloons, not necessarily in that order.  I spend 95% of my time online, and the other 5% of my time in the bathroom, longing to get back on the computer.  If, God forbid, you somehow find me amusing instead of crass and annoying, be sure to check out my blog and my webcomic at &lt;a href="http://www.saintgasoline.com"&gt;SaintGasoline.com&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.helloquizzy.com/tests/the-personality-defect-test"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                Take The Personality Defect Test&lt;/a&gt; at &lt;a href="http://www.helloquizzy.com/"&gt;&lt;b style="color:#131313"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ac000c"&gt;H&lt;/span&gt;ello&lt;span style="color:#ac000c"&gt;Q&lt;/span&gt;uizzy&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-5791370854197801860?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5791370854197801860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=5791370854197801860' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/5791370854197801860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/5791370854197801860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2009/02/test.html' title='test'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-3476890898440465439</id><published>2009-01-25T15:42:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T15:42:47.171+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm still alive</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;As above... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-3476890898440465439?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/3476890898440465439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=3476890898440465439' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/3476890898440465439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/3476890898440465439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2009/01/im-still-alive.html' title='I&apos;m still alive'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-3257616893828255802</id><published>2008-04-11T03:34:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T03:53:24.323+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Curse and Swear</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;  Now I understand how jealousy distorts my logical mind. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;  I haven't had proper sleep for days, my schedule is totally fucked up, exam period is the saddest period in life, everyday repeat the same procedures, getting up, going down to eat, coming up, sitting in front of computer to study, break time equals to chatting on msn or browsing entertainment news. Coffee everyday, cigs at times when really stressed out and feel there are too much coffee. This is my status, very poor thing, and I can't do much about it, I lack of time for studies even, sadly, can't focus. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;   The Aries in my life running further away. Who said Aries and Sagittarius 99% matching? Yea, maybe it's true, but there're so many Sagittarius in the world, Aries can easily run for other Sagittarius. I started not to see the point of love, when it only causes pain, argument, quarrels, tears and lacks of faith and trust, why shoul I make the efforts to carry on?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   At some point, I tried to save my relationship, after experiencing a break-up, I realised patching back becomes harder as time goes by. This is not the era when the person wants to win you back, he/she still sit at home, think about you, trying to lower down the chances of going stray. This is the era people say I still want to play around, I only play around, listen, you're the one who I want to spend my entire life with, but I just need some company when you are not around. So the person goes someone else' house to stay over, only msg you to inform you at the very last minute. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;   I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired to experience all these unpleasant moments. But I just can't get mind off this person... Am I a coward? When I already knew this love is no longer the same as before, this person no longer cares about me as before, I still can't move on...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-3257616893828255802?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/3257616893828255802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=3257616893828255802' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/3257616893828255802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/3257616893828255802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2008/04/curse-and-swear.html' title='Curse and Swear'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-904029434414063046</id><published>2007-10-07T02:27:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T02:38:01.010+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bunny'/><title type='text'>New Bunny</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;We have a new bunny, brown in colour and a male bunny, baby calls him Rusty, I said why can't call Brownie? Cuter. Baby said, cos he's a boy, Brownie sounds too gay for him, and he got the rock star look, Rusty is good .. hee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5118294624617769986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_8bs9ptl4ogs/RwfV19wiLAI/AAAAAAAAADY/2A4aNwR_JFE/s320/DSC00625.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5118293877293460466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_8bs9ptl4ogs/RwfVKdwiK_I/AAAAAAAAADQ/U929FhHVvtk/s320/DSC00624.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-904029434414063046?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/904029434414063046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=904029434414063046' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/904029434414063046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/904029434414063046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2007/10/new-bunny.html' title='New Bunny'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_8bs9ptl4ogs/RwfV19wiLAI/AAAAAAAAADY/2A4aNwR_JFE/s72-c/DSC00625.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-1416932130385702209</id><published>2007-04-16T15:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-16T15:54:58.212+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>Updates</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I will post pictures here after exams, mainly for Sikeren to see, (: actually you guys can find my pics on msn space, though I write Chinese there. (: cheers!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-1416932130385702209?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/1416932130385702209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=1416932130385702209' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/1416932130385702209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/1416932130385702209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2007/04/updates.html' title='Updates'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-7270490439956697011</id><published>2007-04-12T17:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-16T15:52:22.623+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Study</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;The most annoying thing in my life...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-7270490439956697011?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7270490439956697011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=7270490439956697011' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/7270490439956697011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/7270490439956697011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2007/04/study.html' title='Study'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-3761074038320038386</id><published>2007-02-05T14:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-02-05T14:41:01.220+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>I'm back here again</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;  Just realised I haven't come here to write for some time after talked to Sikeren. I thought she's the only reader of this blog, I mean, other than my wife. But I saw Tuan's comment too, this makes me feel touched. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;   It's been a really busy term because of EEE Week, it finally ended, and I started to plan my Educational Trip. I'm pretending that I have sufficient energy to do all these ECA things. I'm really having fun though. Educational Trip is to Si Chuan, Chong Qing and Xi An, I hope we can do as planned in ten days. The alternative suggestion is Vietnam, I know nothing about Vietnam, but my partner is very keen on going to Vietnam, actually going any place other than China, haha, how can I convince my fellow local students that Si Chuan is a beautiful place? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;   Chinese New Year is coming, got several plans, gathering, gathering and gathering... I like spending time with friends. And most important, my honey. Happy advanced CNY to everyone who reads my blog. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;   I don't have many deep thoughts here, currently leading a very simple life, and being very normal. Cheers for myself. And to Sikeren: (if you happen to read this entry), I miss you guys, and keep in touch. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-3761074038320038386?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/3761074038320038386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=3761074038320038386' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/3761074038320038386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/3761074038320038386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2007/02/im-back-here-again.html' title='I&apos;m back here again'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-1389839360069356533</id><published>2006-11-25T04:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-25T04:39:46.270+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Money</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; I thought money was not so important for me, I was wrong, it seems to be very cucial now because I have various bills to pay, and I want to live a comfortable life, I mean, in this city. Vivian is not a materialistic person, she can survive without eating restaurant food and wearing branded clothes, sometimes, maybe she just need to prove that she can afford them. My parents always wish their daughter to have a better life than they do, namely a richer life, so I must work harder to fulfill this goal. My goal is to be rich, at least I don't need to think twice of buying expensive cosmetics. This goal is not well defined, but I'm still trying. And I hope my wife will think the same too, not only about buying a car, but it's about the attitude of making decisions to gain more. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;    I've been married for some time, unfortunately  we will only have our official wedding after I clear my debts...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-1389839360069356533?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/1389839360069356533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=1389839360069356533' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/1389839360069356533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/1389839360069356533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/11/money.html' title='Money'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-5807191355350327290</id><published>2006-11-20T02:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-20T03:16:05.271+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Love Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; I  get to be jealous easily, this time, the jealousy came from her past love story. It took quite long for her to fall in love with me and to be assured of this love, I struggled, took some time to wait and to think of whether I should keep waiting. She finally gave up her ex and chose me, I was some kind of third party, the ex never stop cursing me. I feel sorry, but I didn't have chance to appologise, in fact, it is not necessary since she's full of hatred. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;   They didn't quarrel to part, even saw each other for movie the week after, until the day the ex found out that she's actually very close to me already. The ex found someone else shortly after their breakup, we both wish the ex will be fine since we both feel guilty. But what the hell is guilty? Neither of us should feel so. I did take away something, but I didn't steal. Now, I found that myself became a victim, I had this dream for 3 times, the ex takes her back, and I lost my everything, then I become the one who's full of hatred and curse others. Yes I'm scared. I'm not confident enough because I came out from nowhere, I'm a foreigner, this sounds stupid, but it is still valid, especially on this island. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;     They had happy times together, that's why until now I still don't feel very secure, sometimes when I read their old writings, I feel so jealous, they really loved each other so much, that kind of passion and romance, will never show again. This is what she told me. She's not gonna do any thing crazy  like before, simply because of she grew up, she loves me maturely. I enjoy her mature love, yet still quetioning why I don't deserve a crazy love. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;    And one thing unpleasant happened today, something about my nickname, I used to call myself "banshee", aspiration from a poem. The ex spent her Halloween in London and she happened to hear people say this word, she mocked my name, said that" Who on the earth would love a ghost?". I didn't know London people also use this word, because it comes from Irish legend. I didn't feel offended, I'm totally fine with this nickname, I should go and tell the ex that I once  used the nickname " ghost " as well. I'm fascinated with things human beings always  imagine but never take control over them. And the ex probably doesn't know that actually there's a band called " Siousie &amp; Banshees".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;    I really had a difficult period when I just got her, no one blessed me, she's the only one who stood at my side. But I didn't care, I love bravely, my love is legal. And now she's sleeping on my bed like a baby, I'm not the one who supposed to feel jealous. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-5807191355350327290?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5807191355350327290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=5807191355350327290' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/5807191355350327290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/5807191355350327290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/11/love-story.html' title='A Love Story'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-116327040066182862</id><published>2006-11-12T01:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-12T02:40:00.853+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Guilty</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; It's exam period, everyone is mugging. I just found myself really lost the motivation, and I myself is blameable. Sometimes, I want to study hard, play hard, live a meaningful life, these are what I want, very simple, but I just can't concentrate. There are too many distractions. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;     I wish someone would teach me self-discipline, it can't be taught though. A slacker is yelling for help, that's funny.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;     This beautiful evening, when everyone is studying, everything seems so peaceful, I got my parents' call. They sounded distant. My dad tried to explain why they are not coming in December, he gave ridiculous reasons. I was unhappy, my father still doesn't believe that his daughter is a grown-up already. They don't understand me now, I just hope they come here and have a look, perhaps after that they will have a rough idea how this place looks like and how I'm doing here. Unfortunately they seem to have their difficulties. Lesley said that I should "think in their shoes", I did, and felt guilty. I wish I will be successful in future, and I'm able to bring them here for a tour, not asking them to come. I mean, I will pay everything. But now, I'm on loan, where the hell I have the right to say so? Fiancial problem, that's a really funny term. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-116327040066182862?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/116327040066182862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=116327040066182862' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/116327040066182862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/116327040066182862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/11/guilty.html' title='Guilty'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-116115953760084053</id><published>2006-10-18T16:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-18T16:18:57.613+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Forbidden</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Forbidden&lt;br /&gt;You were denied access because:&lt;br /&gt;Access denied by access control list.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This is what I see when I try to google "lesbian" in campus. I was surprised. And I tried to google"GAY", it works perfectly, my friend said maybe "gay" has other meaning, that's why they didn't control this. I tried "bisexual" as well, even " porn". It works too. I'm shocked now. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-116115953760084053?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/116115953760084053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=116115953760084053' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/116115953760084053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/116115953760084053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/10/forbidden.html' title='Forbidden'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-116067087819808203</id><published>2006-10-12T23:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-13T00:34:38.263+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Theme</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I just had meeting with  this Graduates' Evening committee. As a Special Project Officer of the committee in my school, I automatically carry the responsibility for the Graduates' Evening. The meeting was as draggy as other meetings I attended, and since I had a 6 hours meeting the previous night, 8pm to 2am, I was very sleepy through out today's meeting. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;   It proves how boring engineering students can be when come to think of the THEME of the Graduate's Evening, I was surprised by suggestions like: &lt;em&gt;Memories of XXX (the name of the university) life, Ready to fly, Evolution, Till we meet again, From students to engineers&lt;/em&gt;... Most of other ideas are playing with words and  abbreviations  which related to EEE. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;   I was wondering how a committee from arts school will be,  is it a difficult task to set a theme? Our meeting turned to be more efficient when taking about fixed procedures, that showed how systematic  an engeering student can be, do things step by step and think logically.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;   Nevertheless, I like my committees, people there are humble, willing to learn from others.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;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/7629010-116067087819808203?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/116067087819808203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=116067087819808203' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/116067087819808203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/116067087819808203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/10/theme.html' title='Theme'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-115967723450424754</id><published>2006-10-01T12:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-01T12:33:54.516+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Carry on!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;   I haven't been here for so long! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;   University life is still school life!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;   Enjoy sometimes,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;   Feel bored too...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;   Met some people I like&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;   But can't get closer to them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;   First semester is gonna end,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;   I hope everything will be fine.&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/7629010-115967723450424754?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/115967723450424754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=115967723450424754' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/115967723450424754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/115967723450424754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/10/carry-on.html' title='Carry on!'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-115346788552942395</id><published>2006-07-21T15:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-21T15:44:45.540+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bangkok trip</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;    &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My Bangkok trip was great, did lots of things and went to many places. Met my dear Thai friends too! I shall travel more often to see the world, I'm happy I can easily tell and feel the difference in a new place, and I am able to think deep, it may not necessary for some people ,but it is essential for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;      In fact it was my honeymoon trip, I can't believe that I am married. People can call me Mrs Chek from now on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-115346788552942395?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/115346788552942395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=115346788552942395' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/115346788552942395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/115346788552942395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/07/bangkok-trip.html' title='Bangkok trip'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-115139990107881363</id><published>2006-06-27T17:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-21T13:04:34.710+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't believe that I was a Christian</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Some people just lack of general knowledge, like being not aware that ASEAN is not ASIA, and China is a part of Asia. I forgive their ignorance, because we have this saying that "ignorance is a bliss". In my opinion, (sincere appology to all my singaporean friends) many Singaporeans have poor geographic knowledge. They merely know about places other than Southeast Asia. They may know about China, a big village, with no electricity, and all the people there are peasants. WHAT? they have GUCCI in China? are you kidding me? I feel sad and angry at the same time, this is strange. Singaporeans are infamous for their poor flexibility. However, being handicapped in geography doesn't constrain their mobility. Unfortunately being physically mobile doen't help to grow their mind mobility, thus many still can't think wide and far. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;To balance this entry, I should praise all those successful Singaporeans as well. They are great people who can think far. Their contribution to Singapore's economy is distinguished...blah blah blah.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;In fact this entry is for fun only. I wrote the first paragraph a few days ago, I was angry at that time, since I encountered some unpleasant people who don't know that they are stupid. After a few days, which is today, I no longer detest stupid people that much, and I was asking myself why I chose this title.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-115139990107881363?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/115139990107881363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=115139990107881363' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/115139990107881363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/115139990107881363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/06/i-cant-believe-that-i-was-christian.html' title='I can&apos;t believe that I was a Christian'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-115035091414795606</id><published>2006-06-15T13:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T13:55:14.213+08:00</updated><title type='text'>When I was 14</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;On the way back from guy's place, I was thinking about lots of things, the conversation we had there was disorgnized, like their house which is in a terrible mess. I was surprised by certain things they said, their comments on certain people, their opinions and reaction. When I was 14, I didn't talk about all these, I indulged myself in own interests, I can select friends and reject others easily and freely. That was when I was 14, but I'm no longer 14.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;   When I got off the train, the sky was already dark, people on the street with "going home" written on their faces. They were in hurry, and I was supposed to be. After calling her, I stopped in front of Mcdonald's for some time, she sounded angry and changed her plan to pick me up. I didn't feel like going home at that moment, the moment I feel like going somewhere else, and everything went back to the year when I was 14. That is a mysterious year, the most puzzling year in my life, the most memorable. When I was 14, I was waiting for someone to take me away, to a place I'd never been to, to live a life I'd never imagined. The someone could be anyone who loves me, could be a stranger on street who's willing to take  me away. This feeling was so strong last night when I was standing in front of Mcdonald's. I saw read and yellow, red was like fire and yellow was like desire.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-115035091414795606?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/115035091414795606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=115035091414795606' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/115035091414795606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/115035091414795606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/06/when-i-was-14.html' title='When I was 14'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-115027391442416144</id><published>2006-06-14T15:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-14T16:31:54.513+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Secure</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Recenty I've met lots of old friends, I feel secure and happy when friends are around. Things are getting better these days, and I'm no longer feeling so lost and insecure. It seems everything is under control, more confident and positive, however I'm worried about baby, I hope baby can find a pair of nice shoes and be happy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-115027391442416144?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/115027391442416144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=115027391442416144' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/115027391442416144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/115027391442416144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/06/secure.html' title='Secure'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-114922850401699574</id><published>2006-06-02T12:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T16:12:46.966+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Non- Mainstream</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The other day I saw this word-"non-mainstream" on newspaper, thought of the chinese translation, I laughed. No doubt, this is a funny word. There are other funny words, such as &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;ADULT, EDUCATION, ENGINEERING, DEMOCRATIC,FREEDOM, MAGIC, PROFOUND, LV, CITY,HOLY SHIT, BLOODY HELL,BRA,INFLUENCE, BRAND, CLASS, VISA, ORGASM, FOREVER&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; etc. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;What does non-mainstream mean? Only the opposite of mainstream? Or sometimes it means &lt;em&gt;outstanding, special, cool, abnormal, anomalous, atypical, deviant, deviating, different, errant, freakish, irregular, mental, nonstandard, odd, peculiar, psycho, strange, unconventional, unrepresentative, untypical, unusual,weird, abnormal&lt;/em&gt;? Well, non-mainstream is meaningful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Baby wrote in her recent entry saying that both of us are trying to fit into this so called MAINSTREAM society, yet sometimes we just can't adapt, we can't always follow the majority. It may not be a problem for me, because I don't usually feel lost if I'm different from others, it's like everyone listens to pop music, but I still stick to Rock music, everyone has a SWATCH , but I think it's not a worthy bargain. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It's very strange that people usually describe me within few words, such as : "Vivian is a friend I will never forget", "Vivian is a girl with determination", "A genius", "A gal called Vivian", "Vivian, my ex classmate", "Vivian"... Compared with description of others, mine is highly summarised, not that "short and sweet", but succinct, hasty and dry. Well, it's because I fell into this non-mainstream type, I'm so non-mainstream, so that people don't really can get near to me, or to understand me, or those who understand have no idea how to describe a person like me. I'd rather being described as: "Vivian, the gal I often shop with", " Vivian, the gal who cooks well and I love her food","Vivian,who is willing to listen all my craps and complaints"...What I mean here is I'd rather interacting with people than existing as an individual. Technically speaking, everyone is an individual, but I mean I seek more interation, I wish my friends remember me not as what I am, but as what I have done with them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-114922850401699574?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/114922850401699574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=114922850401699574' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114922850401699574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114922850401699574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/06/non-mainstream.html' title='Non- Mainstream'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-114881322543806809</id><published>2006-05-28T18:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-28T18:47:05.460+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The way of living as WE</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Surprisingly We quite enjoy a common life, which is to work, to have dinner together, to wash dishes, to vaccum clean the floor, to mix a drink,to watch cable TV or DVDS, to have an intimate conversation(sometimes a tearful one) ...Or sometimes go to town, to walk around. We both try not to have restaurant food because we are saving. And we read, Newsweek, something thoughtful and arguabl. Zaobao, I'm the one who likes criticizing their Chinese language. We also read CLEO, which we get one year free supply, fancy with all the branded goods, yet not blindly desire to own. Plus all other fashion magazines baby brings home, We have plenty to read. Baby should have gone into advertising or marketing, because her artistic eyes and critical mind. For these months, we live under one roof, I feel happy, we are happy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-114881322543806809?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/114881322543806809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=114881322543806809' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114881322543806809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114881322543806809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/05/way-of-living-as-we.html' title='The way of living as WE'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-114761078005748302</id><published>2006-05-14T20:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-14T20:46:20.126+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Movies</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Recently have watched several films,  &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;Jasmine Women&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; in cinema. and others including &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;Motorcycle Diaries, The Object of my affection, Closer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;Kingdom of Heaven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;( 2nd time). I guess I spent too much time in front of the television, even though I think movie is life. Anyway, I shall carry on watching films, till I can come out with some fruitful writings. I haven't written anything meaningful for very long, my chinese is getting worse. I search for insprition from films. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-114761078005748302?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/114761078005748302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=114761078005748302' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114761078005748302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114761078005748302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/05/movies.html' title='Movies'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-114663430733827024</id><published>2006-05-03T13:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-14T20:14:06.520+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Announcement</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Someone complaint that my frount size is too small, hard to read, so I decided to use normal size for my content from now on. cos the someone is a good friend, and I always treat friends well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-114663430733827024?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/114663430733827024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=114663430733827024' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114663430733827024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114663430733827024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/05/announcement.html' title='Announcement'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-114663398145961580</id><published>2006-05-03T13:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T13:26:21.460+08:00</updated><title type='text'>IKEA</title><content type='html'>Isn't buying a house a crazy idea?&lt;br /&gt;or idealistic? or insane?&lt;br /&gt;I consulted SS&lt;br /&gt;who the most realistic person I know&lt;br /&gt;She said it's perfectly normal&lt;br /&gt;and I decided to try harder&lt;br /&gt;for this plan, even&lt;br /&gt;I haven't finish my education&lt;br /&gt;and I still can call myself&lt;br /&gt;A student&lt;br /&gt;After all these months working&lt;br /&gt;as account assistant&lt;br /&gt;IKEA gave me this idea&lt;br /&gt;That to build a house is expensive&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-114663398145961580?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/114663398145961580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=114663398145961580' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114663398145961580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114663398145961580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/05/ikea.html' title='IKEA'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-114663337907606078</id><published>2006-05-03T13:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T13:16:19.086+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tattoo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Finally I went to put the goddamn butterfly tattoo on my neck. nothing changes after I putting this tattoo, unexpected calmness. And it was not painful, like mosquito bite. I like e female tattooist, the so called "tattooless tattooist", sounds so cool. Leya, my dear high school friends turned to be a part-time tattooist now, asked me to show her my tattoo, and she said would alter for me if it's not nice, and she even dare to charge me! omg.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;   I'm living a vibrant life, but this is not what I intend to do. I want to be punk, or just to have that punk attitude, haha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-114663337907606078?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/114663337907606078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=114663337907606078' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114663337907606078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114663337907606078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/05/tattoo.html' title='Tattoo'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-114394987600193909</id><published>2006-04-02T11:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-02T11:51:16.010+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Misfortune</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;My grandpa, my mother’s father passed away on Thursday. I didn’t have the opportunity to see him, for saying the last goodbye. My mum was the only one among the four daughters and sons around when he stopped breathing, my uncle, mum’s younger brother, who works in another city flew back on the day. It was a gloomy day.&lt;br /&gt;    Grandpa died after three-day deep coma, nothing can summon him back, the last sound he made was to answer my cousin, and the last drop of tear fell down after my mum’s touch on his face. I called my grandma outside my office, in a deep depression, she’s crying, and repeating one sentence which is telling me my grandpa is no long around us. I held my tears and go back to work, still, need to smile for colleagues’ jokes.&lt;br /&gt;    Perhaps I was the only one who is supposed to be present in the funeral but actually absent. I feel sorry to my grandpa. Such a nice man, who taught me to be a true man, now is at somewhere I can’t reach.&lt;br /&gt;    I miss him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-114394987600193909?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/114394987600193909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=114394987600193909' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114394987600193909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114394987600193909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/04/misfortune.html' title='Misfortune'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-114394854018405477</id><published>2006-04-02T11:04:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-02T11:29:00.240+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Efficiency</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;If you have noticed that they are covering those gaps on the floor at many MRT station, you probably would like to listen to my story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One month ago, the first day working, I was wearing high heels. Unluckily, the heel was clutched between the metal bars of the cover for the gap at MRT station. It was embarrassing, and I wondered why they must use the cover with lots of gaps, unlike outdoors, there’s no rain water flow. I called Ministry of Estate, complaint about this, the officer said, we will take consideration of your case. Two weeks later, I saw workers use metal boards to cover the gaps. I went to ask them what for, they answered because there’s a girl complaint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the girl was me. Now I can walk with no worry about the gap thing in a MRT station, so glad. Thanks and praise for them, they are very efficient. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-114394854018405477?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/114394854018405477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=114394854018405477' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114394854018405477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114394854018405477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/04/efficiency.html' title='Efficiency'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-114286323369783957</id><published>2006-03-20T21:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-20T22:00:35.780+08:00</updated><title type='text'>We are going somewhere</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt; Lots of things happened. I'm tired of writing, copy and paste pictures on my Chinese blog became my new interest. Working as admin assistant, pretending to be an office lady, high heels and pink colour skirt, a brand new me. I'm proficent in putting make-ups now, one can't tell my eyebrows are fake. My eyes became bigger with the help of L'oreal mascara, lips became shine. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;      I became a woman, for the sake of my 20s. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-114286323369783957?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/114286323369783957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=114286323369783957' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114286323369783957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114286323369783957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/03/we-are-going-somewhere.html' title='We are going somewhere'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-114077054839313067</id><published>2006-02-24T16:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-24T16:45:37.803+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Accent</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I was so pissed because of the 'accent' thing. Still believe that P&amp;G should have hired me or at least interviewed me. The guy from xxx job agency worried about my accent: there are many Indians and 'amohs' in the office, he's afraid of that I can't understand their accents and vice versa(what the hell,vice versa). What I find this statement is ridiculous is he lacks of evidence. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I really have problems understanding 'accent', but I guess it's for local accents. I even feel insulted by hearing he said so and rejected me immediately. Well, I shall go to P&amp;G to work few years later, this was and shall be a plan of mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was 13, I met a group of boys on the train to Beijing, they were going to study in an university there. One of them told me that he's going to work at P&amp;amp;G after he graduates, and he told me a lot about the company. From that time, working at P&amp;amp;G became one of my plans. But few days ago, a guy reminded me that I might not understand the 'accent' there, I think it's super funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, please laugh.&lt;/span&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/7629010-114077054839313067?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/114077054839313067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=114077054839313067' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114077054839313067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114077054839313067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/02/accent.html' title='Accent'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-114050963004287633</id><published>2006-02-21T16:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-21T16:13:50.050+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tired</title><content type='html'>I&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt; shouldn't be so tired because I actually have nothing to do these days, but I'm really tired of looking for jobs, and hearing others refusing to take foreigners, can't they just be nicer to non locals? my current situaltion is : no job=no money=no happiness.(as if all my life is about happiness?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;   When I saw there's this folder named K's ex gf's name in K's  computer, (still, cos the girl doesn't allow to delete it, only because she doesn't allow) I'm so pissed. One day when I become a past tense, will I have a folder named "vivian" there too? that's funny.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-114050963004287633?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/114050963004287633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=114050963004287633' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114050963004287633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114050963004287633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/02/tired.html' title='Tired'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-114023959768775134</id><published>2006-02-18T13:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-18T13:13:17.700+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Back here</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Vivian is in Singapore now. The weather is very hot, not used to it yet, cos it was winter in China, was wearing my thick clothes. hmmm, looking for job, hope I can stay for longer this time. I miss all my friends I have here. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-114023959768775134?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/114023959768775134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=114023959768775134' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114023959768775134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/114023959768775134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/02/back-here.html' title='Back here'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-113870177042903780</id><published>2006-01-31T18:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-31T18:02:50.446+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Coming back soon</title><content type='html'>Baby, I'm coming back soon, and I hope to stay for longer this time. Kiss you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-113870177042903780?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/113870177042903780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=113870177042903780' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/113870177042903780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/113870177042903780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/01/coming-back-soon.html' title='Coming back soon'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-113629663318732168</id><published>2006-01-03T21:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-03T21:57:13.200+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't open blogspot</title><content type='html'>:( i can't see any blogspot blog, include mine...i want to go back to singapore soon...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-113629663318732168?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/113629663318732168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=113629663318732168' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/113629663318732168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/113629663318732168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2006/01/i-cant-open-blogspot.html' title='I can&apos;t open blogspot'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-113446325583346849</id><published>2005-12-13T16:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-13T16:40:55.910+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I miss bunny</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/285/479/1600/canon%20big%20card%20226.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/285/479/320/canon%20big%20card%20226.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I miss my bunny...I miss Singapore, the first time I miss Singapore, cos my bunny is there...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;this picture is what i can see when i look out of my window.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-113446325583346849?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/113446325583346849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=113446325583346849' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/113446325583346849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/113446325583346849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/12/i-miss-bunny.html' title='I miss bunny'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-113342369580249531</id><published>2005-12-01T15:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-01T15:58:02.603+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Birthday celebration with hostel mates in the midnight, they are all nice girls. Special thanks to roomy Chui and Yen Roo. The little gift they gave me is a symbol of maturity?:) Everybody was laughing. Thanks to WK and XC, the sheep shirt they gave me is super cute, I'm a sheep woman, mien~~~~ and thanks to other people who came to say happy birthday, you gals made my birthday more meaningful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I may not go for class chalet, because i'm really in hurry to complete my packing and shopping for my cousins and parents. I wish I may go, and say goodbye to everybody there personally. I will miss they all, especially Wei liang, he's a good class monitor. I was happy to see some of my classmates and teachers yesterday when I went back to get testimionial, lots of people went to dye hair, rebound hair...some of them are cute, such as Stanley...hee...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;The gathering at Mrs Tag's house was fun. Thanks for WL to drag me there, indeed I had a good time watching 'Shall We Dance' and taking pictures. On the way back to hostel I was thinking: maybe I prefer others to know me more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;K came to fetch me cos I need to move things to her house, was glad that Irma and Ahn were accompany me waiting downstairs. I dunno when I'm gonna see them again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;The birthday celebration with K was... so special. Tiramisu cake was delicious, the red rose was loving and K's self-made gift was amazing... haha, I didn't expect it would be Tom Kitten... plus all the chocolate and the adorable bear, I got so many presents from my darling... very HAPPY.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;We went the liquid room for drinks, after the bartender told us no long island tea would be offered I didn't feel like drinking anything besides tequila shot. The Vodka orange taste more like orange juice, it was still ok compared to the wiskey water. And the worst one, Vodka greentea, the one was terrible, it was not mixed well, the two liquid were not in phase...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;A guy tried to flirt with my gf, I was jealous! He obviously approached a wrong person, he should have gone to the drunk girl with super short shorts standing beside us, who was yelling loudly that her boyfriend was the best guy in the world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;We went to MOMO after that, it was crowded there. It is a friendly place for dancing, I was a bit dizzy, purposely leaning into K :)... I thought Er they all could come earlier, then we could have fun, unfortunately I was tired and need to go back early before they reach there. sad sad, maybe next year...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I even ate some tiramisu cake when we got back, K ate instant noodles. Then, it's time to sleep, very warm :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-113342369580249531?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/113342369580249531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=113342369580249531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/113342369580249531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/113342369580249531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/12/birthday.html' title='Birthday'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-113308780891761995</id><published>2005-11-27T18:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-27T18:39:24.646+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll Miss You</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i thought I was gonna treasure everything I had in JC. I was wrong. Everything is so unreal now, after exams, I can't remember those sweet or sad moments. During the exams, i've attended some ASEAN scholars' birthday party, ended up i brought back a frustrated me. how i wish i really can be part of them. but i felt i was so extra. the same feeling is triggered when i am in class. I tried to treat everyone nicely, sincerely, but many of them would consider my "unknown" background and the totally different culture. so, lots of things i'm supposed to treasure here are just bubbles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why would i ask them to write autogragh? to remember this "friendship"? yes, correct, as if who bothers to remember? as if who cares about when are you leaving and when are you come back? I've never attend my class outing, i have valid reasons, not because of i'm unwilling to. the same for this time, the last class chalet, i won't be present. in fact no one would care. there is gap between them and me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't belong to any group now, i often question myself why this is happening, but i never have an answer. I can't possibly turn to be neutral to everything, less sharp or less sensitive. it's my nature to be sensitive to ignorance. i've been quiet through out these years, but it doesn't mean i dare not speak up. people may think i'm odd, that's why they can't really get closer to me. i appreciate friendship, i hope my friends appreciate it too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to stay here, though lots of people are going somewhere else. actually i only have one reason to feel i belong to this place, which is my darling. i wish to stay with my darling forever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-113308780891761995?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/113308780891761995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=113308780891761995' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/113308780891761995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/113308780891761995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/11/ill-miss-you.html' title='I&apos;ll Miss You'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-112970657052074409</id><published>2005-10-19T15:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-19T15:22:50.826+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Patience is golden</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"&gt;Passionate lovers, joyful tears.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"&gt;Difficult conversation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"&gt;Impurities and uncertainties in the passion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"&gt;Silence is golden, patience is too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"&gt;Free me from this restriction.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"&gt;Ensure me the freedom in scutiny&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"&gt;in your concern,  and everything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"&gt;Here the wayward child in front of you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"&gt;Seeking for both consolation &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"&gt;and independence&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-112970657052074409?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/112970657052074409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=112970657052074409' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112970657052074409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112970657052074409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/10/patience-is-golden.html' title='Patience is golden'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-112867130198110814</id><published>2005-10-07T14:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-07T16:00:45.550+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Philosophy is beautiful</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;   Most of the time I found Mr T's gp lesson interesting.Frankly, it doesn’t help much in exams, most of what he says are opinions. After we finished all the dry topics, my favourite topic, philosophy finally came. However, I was frustrated during the first lesson. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;   Most of my classmates are disinterested about this topic or they know little about it, so they kept quiet. Only M was saying something, which I agree with. Mr T talked about the differences of occidental and oriental philosophy, when he asked the question of what is the biggest difference between them, no body answered, the most obvious difference I knew was related to eastern and western art. Western art have lots of portraitures and the eastern art contains mainly landscapes. Therefore, we say that the eastern culture consider the society as whole, the combination of man and nature, on the other hand, the western culture emphasizes individualism. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;   I learnt this when I was 14, through self reading, both art books and philosophy books. And when I was 15, my Chinese teacher told the whole class this. But in Mr Ts lesson, I didn’t answer the question. I was not sure whether it is the “biggest” difference. In the end I felt frustrated because I found I have this inferior-complex. It have started since I came here, exacerbated during the two year studying in a girl school. There are a lot of things I knew turn to be unclear and useless here. And I dare not to voice out most of the time. I studied philosophy and art very hard, I like them, most of the time I did self studying. I prefer western philosophy, and I dislike Confucious, I was sick of memorising all the “Confucious say…” in my secondary school, perhaps Confucious is the idol and model of many Chinese, but not mine. I appreciate some of his saying, but I disagree with that he is perfect. I read Niezsche, Kant , Carl Gustav Jung and Schopenhauer. Especially last year, after I reading Jung’s personality analysis I adopted his views of life. But here, I’m unable to talk about them in English , I don’t; know how to say those specific philosophic terms in English because I read those books in Chinese.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;   And in the second lesson, Mr T asked about what’s our philosophy. I said, be useful. Others laughed, I didn’t find it is funny, when I said be useful I really meant it. I think it is more profound than saying be happy, or, be myself. For me, be myself is one part of be useful. I didn’t laugh, because I meant, be useful. I found that when we discussed another issue, my classmate showed this typical eastern style. Should a paralysed woman choose to die? In my opinion, there’s no correct or wrong, and others can’t justify her death. M argued with the gal who commented “the woman who chose to die is pessimistic” by saying that if you are in that situation, you may choose to die too, you have no right to say she is pessimistic because you don’t know how she’s suffering. I totally agreed with him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.humorsphere.com/confucius/"&gt;Confucius Says ...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Man who stand on toilet high on pot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Man who jump off cliff, jump to conclusion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Man who run behind car get exhausted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Virgin just like balloon ... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;one prick, all gone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Secretary not permanent until she screwed on desk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Man who put cock in Peanut Butter jar is F***ing Nuts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Man with tool in woman mouth May not necessarily be dentist.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Couple on 7-day honeymoon make hole weak.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Girl who marry Richard must kiss Dick.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Man with hand in pocket feel cocky all day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Man who excels at putting worm on hook is Master Baiter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Man young when he snatches kisses, old when he kisses snatches.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Man who loses key to lady's apartment get no new-key.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Man who go to sleep with itchy butt, wake with smelly fingers...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;War do not determine who right, war determine who left.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Man who walk through airport turnstile sideways going to Bangkok&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Schoolboy who play with schoolgirl during wrong period, get caught red-handed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Girl who sit on judge's lap get an honourable discharge. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Girl who go camping must beware of evil intent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Man with tight trousers is pressing his luck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;He who farts in church sits in own pew.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;He who sneezes without a handkerchief takes matters into his own hands.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;He who fish in other's hole often catch crabs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Man who go to bed with hard problem wake up with solution in hand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Squirrel who run up woman's leg not find nuts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;He who kisses woman's ass get crack in jaw.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Passionate kiss just like spider web - lead to undoing of fly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Girl who sit on jockey's lap get hot tip.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;If you want pretty nurse, you got to be patient.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Man who stand on street corner with hands in pockets, not feeling crazy, feeling nuts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Woman who go to bachelor apartment for snack get tit-bit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Man who put rooster in Ice Compartment take out Stiff Cock.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;No difference between man and mouse - both end in pussy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;Nail on board is not good as screw on bench.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-112867130198110814?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/112867130198110814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=112867130198110814' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112867130198110814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112867130198110814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/10/philosophy-is-beautiful.html' title='Philosophy is beautiful'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-112839059089284189</id><published>2005-10-04T09:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-04T09:50:06.256+08:00</updated><title type='text'>O...</title><content type='html'>&lt;table width="480" align="center" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img src="http://homepage.mac.com/tonyjohnston/.Pictures/tarot/10-TheWheelofFortune.gif" align="left" border="0" /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;big&gt;I am The Wheel of Fortune&lt;/big&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Wheel of Fortune represents unexpected encounters and twists of fate. You can't predict surprises; you can only be aware when one is circling around. Indeed, Card 10 often suggests wheel-like actions - changes in direction, repeating cycles and rapid movement. When the energy of the Wheel arrives, you will feel life speed up. You are caught in a cyclone that may deposit you anywhere. "Round and round and round she goes, and where she stops, nobody knows."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;For a full description of your card and other goodies, please visit &lt;a href="http://www.learntarot.com/maj10.htm" target="_blank"&gt;LearnTarot.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="middle"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="&lt;a"&gt;What&lt;/a&gt; tarot card are you?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Enter your birthdate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;form action="&lt;a href="&gt;http://www.obeythefist.com/tarot/index.php&lt;/a&gt;" method="get"&gt;Month: &lt;input maxlength="2" size="4" name="month"&gt; Day: &lt;input maxlength="2" size="4" name="day"&gt; Year: &lt;input maxlength="4" size="6" value="19" name="year"&gt; &lt;input type="submit" value="submit" name="submit"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/form&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;form action="&lt;a href="&gt;&lt;/form&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-112839059089284189?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/112839059089284189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=112839059089284189' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112839059089284189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112839059089284189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/10/o.html' title='O...'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-112787222314361855</id><published>2005-09-28T09:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-30T14:54:00.376+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ignorance</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I finished reading "Ignorance" by Milan Kundera yesterday. I like the writer, he is subtle. I used to read almost all his other novels in Chinese, including &lt;em&gt;the Book of Laughter and Forgetting,the Joke, Laughable Loves, Life is Elsewhere, Identity,Prague Spring, Immortality&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;Slowness.Ignorace&lt;/em&gt; is the first English version I read. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;The story is about several emigrants, Irena from Czechoslovakia, her Swede boyfriend Gustaf, and another Czech Josef. It somehow reminds my current situation, being in another country which is very different from my own. After Irena emigrated to France, she decided to enjoy life there and be a person who doesn't live in the past, she doesn't want any impact from her past life in Czechoslovakia. The same happens to her boyfriend, who nearly forgets where he was from. But there is a big difference between them due to certain political reason. People always have different views on emigrates from different places, to Irena, it is stereotype. Those from communist Czechoslovakia are "pitied", they are "sad", they miss home, "nostalgic". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;The last part of the book is dramatic and sad. Gustaf always thinks that Irena misses her home, he was trying hard to build his office in Prague thus Irena may have the chance to go back. Gustaf, after some &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;time, started to like Prague, he feels good, relaxed, totally forgets where he was from when he is in Prague. That place does not remind him his past. Hence, he started to like Irena's mother since she likes Prague too. And he was eager to know Irena's past, and her mother is the only connectionto him. However his girlfriend Irena was trying to forget the place where she came from. when Josef appears, she remembers their encounter at a bar in Prague which drew her attention to a large extent, she immediately fell in Josef during their reunion, Sadly, Josef did not remember anything between they two, he treated her as a stranger, he sleeps with her not because of she is Irena but a stranger. Irena was desperate about this and felt she herseelf is like a whore...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Irena is this kind of woman who tends to put her whole weight of life on someone who she thinks she can rely on, Gustaf was one, so was Josef. However Irena is easily hurt because her life is" without future". Her mother, who came to France to visit her daughter, did not care about her daughter much but was interested in strangers, Irena felt she was ignored and she was speechless about her mother's awkward response to her fervor. Her mother, another lonely woman, in the end, seduced Gustaf, was seeking attention as well. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;These emigrants are lonely, not the generally defined loneliness, they just feel something lost in their lives,  They are struggling to be accepted and working hard to adapt new environment. Sometimes they feel being ignored, this cold ignorance hurts them deeply, but this feeling is indescribable. Some, like Irena who tries hard to forget all this is still living under the shadow, because others do not forget, others somehow would remind her of being a "sad emigrant".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-112787222314361855?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/112787222314361855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=112787222314361855' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112787222314361855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112787222314361855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/09/ignorance.html' title='Ignorance'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-112746270101603355</id><published>2005-09-23T15:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-23T16:05:01.723+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tittle-tattle</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;It's just so funny, some nerd pointed me, talked to others:" she's very innocent last time, very quiet..."I accept what she said, but I'm not gonna equal innocence and quietness, and I just felt funny because those words were from her mouth, a.... how to say...a nerd. forgive me I didn't mean anything offensive, anyway, nerd is not a negative word, isn't it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Sometimes, for some reason, I just look down on certain nerds. I mean, they think they are very talented, got the potential to be successful in future. they are so good, they are A students in college and they join many competitions, they are good students in teachers' eyes... but I just don't like their attitude, very fake, unreal. I just want to be real, who has few close friends, I mean the kind of friends who really know you, and care about you no matter the distance and the time. Hence, I can't group with those successful nerds,they only care about themselves.some of them may think I'm weird,so... so what?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;And other type of people , I also look down on them because they are nothing, such as WK's roommate. It's very sad , because lots of people think that she's nothing...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;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/7629010-112746270101603355?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/112746270101603355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=112746270101603355' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112746270101603355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112746270101603355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/09/tittle-tattle.html' title='Tittle-tattle'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-112704383707383266</id><published>2005-09-18T19:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-18T19:43:57.080+08:00</updated><title type='text'>OMG</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Wild Rose&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onmouseover="javascript:document.thebigpicture26.src='http://is2.okcupid.com/graphics/persons/random.gif'" onmouseout="javascript:document.thebigpicture26.src='http://is2.okcupid.com/graphics/persons/RBLDf.gif'" href="http://www.okcupid.com/personality?type=RBLD&amp;g=2&amp;amp;o=2&amp;h=155#"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Random &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onmouseover="javascript:document.thebigpicture26.src='http://is2.okcupid.com/graphics/persons/brutal.gif'" onmouseout="javascript:document.thebigpicture26.src='http://is2.okcupid.com/graphics/persons/RBLDf.gif'" href="http://www.okcupid.com/personality?type=RBLD&amp;amp;g=2&amp;o=2&amp;amp;h=155#"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Brutal &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onmouseover="javascript:document.thebigpicture26.src='http://is2.okcupid.com/graphics/persons/love.gif'" onmouseout="javascript:document.thebigpicture26.src='http://is2.okcupid.com/graphics/persons/RBLDf.gif'" href="http://www.okcupid.com/personality?type=RBLD&amp;g=2&amp;amp;o=2&amp;h=155#"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Love &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onmouseover="javascript:document.thebigpicture26.src='http://is2.okcupid.com/graphics/persons/dreamer.gif'" onmouseout="javascript:document.thebigpicture26.src='http://is2.okcupid.com/graphics/persons/RBLDf.gif'" href="http://www.okcupid.com/personality?type=RBLD&amp;amp;g=2&amp;o=2&amp;amp;h=155#"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Dreamer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt; (RBLDf)    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Colorful, but unpicked. You are The Wild Rose.     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Prone to bouts of cynicism, sarcasm, and thorns, you excite a certain kind of woman. Hoping to gather you up, she flirts and winks and asks you out, ultimately professing her love. Then you make her bleed. Why? Because you're the rare, independent, self-sufficient kind of woman who does want love, but not from a weakling.     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;You don't seem to take yourself too seriously, and that's refreshing. You aren't uptight; you don't over-plan. Romance-wise, sex isn't a top priority--a true relationship would be preferable. For your age, you haven't had a lot of bonafide love experience, though, and this kind of gets to core of the issue. You're very selective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Your exact opposite:The Dirty Little Secret&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onmouseover="javascript:document.thebigpicture26.src='http://is2.okcupid.com/graphics/persons/deliberate.gif'" onmouseout="javascript:document.thebigpicture26.src='http://is2.okcupid.com/graphics/persons/RBLDf.gif'" href="http://www.okcupid.com/personality?type=RBLD&amp;g=2&amp;amp;o=2&amp;h=155#"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Deliberate &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onmouseover="javascript:document.thebigpicture26.src='http://is2.okcupid.com/graphics/persons/gentle.gif'" onmouseout="javascript:document.thebigpicture26.src='http://is2.okcupid.com/graphics/persons/RBLDf.gif'" href="http://www.okcupid.com/personality?type=RBLD&amp;amp;g=2&amp;o=2&amp;amp;h=155#"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Gentle &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onmouseover="javascript:document.thebigpicture26.src='http://is2.okcupid.com/graphics/persons/sex.gif'" onmouseout="javascript:document.thebigpicture26.src='http://is2.okcupid.com/graphics/persons/RBLDf.gif'" href="http://www.okcupid.com/personality?type=RBLD&amp;g=2&amp;amp;o=2&amp;h=155#"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Sex &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onmouseover="javascript:document.thebigpicture26.src='http://is2.okcupid.com/graphics/persons/master.gif'" onmouseout="javascript:document.thebigpicture26.src='http://is2.okcupid.com/graphics/persons/RBLDf.gif'" href="http://www.okcupid.com/personality?type=RBLD&amp;amp;g=2&amp;o=2&amp;amp;h=155#"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Master&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;    The problem is them, not you, right? You have lofty standards that few measure up to. You're out there all right, but not to be picked up by just anyone. "You're never truly single as long as you have yourself." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;ALWAYS AVOID: The Dirty Little Secret &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;CONSIDER: The Sudden Departure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/oktest"&gt;http://www.okcupid.com/oktest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-112704383707383266?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/112704383707383266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=112704383707383266' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112704383707383266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112704383707383266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/09/omg.html' title='OMG'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-112536849474331762</id><published>2005-08-30T10:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-31T10:37:39.036+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Sat</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/aircristir/EIMG_1359.jpg" border="0" /&gt; The Cafe Catel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/aircristir/EIMG_1371.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/aircristir/EIMG_1371.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I'm his fan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/aircristir/EIMG_1361.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/aircristir/EIMG_1361.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Chinese writer YuHua, who wrote " to live" in 1993&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/aircristir/EIMG_1383.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O bar, Vodka cranberry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-112536849474331762?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/112536849474331762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=112536849474331762' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112536849474331762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112536849474331762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/08/last-sat.html' title='Last Sat'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-112536818116140552</id><published>2005-08-30T10:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-31T10:40:12.780+08:00</updated><title type='text'>WOMAD</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/aircristir/EIMG_1321.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="214" alt="" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/aircristir/EIMG_1321.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                                            WOMAD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/aircristir/EIMG_1317.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 235px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 331px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="359" alt="" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/aircristir/EIMG_1317.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                                          Heineken ppl&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/aircristir/EIMG_1294.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 292px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="354" alt="" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/aircristir/EIMG_1294.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                               Turkish Ice-Cream Man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/aircristir/EIMG_1272.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 371px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="263" alt="" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/aircristir/EIMG_1272.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                                                  Stage  &lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 192px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 245px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="355" alt="" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/aircristir/EIMG_1344.jpg" border="0" /&gt;                                                                                Another stage&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 191px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 271px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="363" alt="" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/aircristir/EIMG_1333.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Lots of fun&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-112536818116140552?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/112536818116140552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=112536818116140552' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112536818116140552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112536818116140552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/08/womad.html' title='WOMAD'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-112536766722736638</id><published>2005-08-30T10:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-30T10:07:47.233+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cool</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.cyborgname.com"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.cyborgname.com/webimages/riona-VIVIANGORE.png" width="240" height="180" alt="Versatile Intelligent Variant Intended for Accurate Nullification, Galactic Observation and Rational Exploration" 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/7629010-112536766722736638?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/112536766722736638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=112536766722736638' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112536766722736638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112536766722736638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/08/cool.html' title='Cool'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-112524153745835178</id><published>2005-08-28T22:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-28T23:07:19.856+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/285/479/1600/0407005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/285/479/200/0407005.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; dbl O&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/285/479/1600/IMG_1384.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/285/479/200/IMG_1384.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; O bar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/285/479/1600/EImage055.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/285/479/200/EImage055.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Wala Wala&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-112524153745835178?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/112524153745835178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=112524153745835178' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112524153745835178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112524153745835178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/08/dbl-o-o-bar-wala-wala.html' title=''/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-112382188821687923</id><published>2005-08-12T12:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-12T12:47:15.453+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Emily the strange</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.emilystrange.com/AAAemily/buyorDIE/RandomTees/beoddgetevenRO.gif"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.emilystrange.com/AAAemily/NAVSleft/AAemilylogos/newicons/wardrobe.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 99px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 102px" height="165" alt="" src="http://www.emilystrange.com/AAAemily/NAVSleft/AAemilylogos/newicons/wardrobe.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;a href="http://www.emilystrange.com/AAAemily/badartgallery/MainWalkAmongUs.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.emilystrange.com/AAAemily/badartgallery/MainWalkAmongUs.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Suddenly I like this brand very much, even though it seems not for people at my age.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emily may be odd, but she always gets  even.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;                                                                             &lt;a href="http://www.emilystrange.com/AAAemily/buyorDIE/Accessories/SockItToYa/sneakersockblk.gif"&gt; &lt;img style="WIDTH: 143px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 106px" height="106" alt="" src="http://www.emilystrange.com/AAAemily/buyorDIE/Accessories/SockItToYa/sneakersockblk.gif" 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/7629010-112382188821687923?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/112382188821687923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=112382188821687923' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112382188821687923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112382188821687923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/08/emily-strange.html' title='Emily the strange'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-112349397335720423</id><published>2005-08-08T17:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-08T18:05:07.026+08:00</updated><title type='text'>No attitude</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;The female guard in my hostel is a bitch. She went to spread insidious rumors about me around. I feel I’ve been spied by her for some time, and I hate to put myself in scrutiny. Freedom, human rights are my emphasis, always. However, living in this hostel freedom is a pipedream. In fact I have the right to choose or to make decisions, but I don’t have options. This situation is called an “illiberal liberalism”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guard I mentioned has a swing mood, and in my point of view she’s not supposed to during her working time. She’s furious during her PMS phase, talks very loudly, even the other deaf male guard can hear her clearly. Today when I was at the gate, in front of the guard house and intent to go out, I surrendered my pass voluntarily, she questioned me impatiently: which teacher. I doubt she has a weak memory during her PMS phase, she even went to bitch about me, yet she doesn’t know which teacher I am under?  After that, she threw the “sign in sign out” book to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I threw the book to her after I signed. I didn’t mean to be impolite. When I came back, she was chatting with a male boarder, like she usually does. When I approached to sign in, the male boarder left . then the guard said: “see, he’s scared of you. How come he’s scared of you?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1, I threw the “sign in sign out book” to her and shouted: you bitch, all you need to do is just to shout your mouth. I don’t understand why they hired you as a guard, you can’t do anything except bitching around. Can you run? Nope, you are very fat, can you fight? Nope, your body is made of fats with no strength. You bitch need to behave yourself, next time if you throw things to me I will throw back to your face. Why are you interested in others’ relationship because you are jealous, you are an old virgin and no body wants you.  Your goddamn voice is so horrendous, zip your lips because no one needs to hear you…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2, I threw the “sign in sign out book” to her, yes, I did it indeed. And I walked away without a single word from my mouth.  Yes, number 1 is my imaginary part and it is what I wanted to do. But I couldn’t since I will be here for another several months, I don’t play dangerous games with no gain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-112349397335720423?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/112349397335720423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=112349397335720423' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112349397335720423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112349397335720423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/08/no-attitude.html' title='No attitude'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-112260001287339039</id><published>2005-07-29T09:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-29T09:20:12.880+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lonely</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#333333;"&gt;When you sprained your ankle, can't walk fast, you feel so left out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-112260001287339039?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/112260001287339039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=112260001287339039' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112260001287339039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112260001287339039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/07/lonely.html' title='Lonely'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-112139225389681455</id><published>2005-07-15T09:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-16T18:10:19.166+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Food for thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I read quite a number of books this year, more than I planned to. I like three books among them because I remember the content clearly. These three books are : &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Mister God, This is Anna&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Brave New World&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Curious incident of the Dog in the Night time&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;. I like reading books, especially children's books, they are easy to read yet meaningful and interesting. I also read &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Toto Chan&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;, but I don't like this book that much because I don't like Toto Chan being a girl.I don't like s&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;tudying, because studying is so dry, especially sciences. I like literature, unfortunately I do not excel in it, it is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;similar to that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I like mathematics but I could only get an "o" for it. Isn't it sad?&lt;/span&gt; It is the reality, I'm not good at many things that I like, and I have to do well in something that I dislike. Suddenly I'm thinking of my good friend's boyfriend, he's colour blind but he is a painter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;By the way, sometimes I find most of people do not like what I like, and I don't understand, for example, I like the movie, &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Lost in Translation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;, I even&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;told my roommate about it and she thought it is worthy to watch too, however XX said she fell asleep when she was watching this movie, I was trying to make a statement that the film is really nice, and Sikeren stood out to give her "third opinion", she said, it is a boring movie. I was very unhappy when they said this because I really like the movie. For no reason I like it, and I don't like some popular movies such as &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Spider man, X men and Batman&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;. &lt;/em&gt;Neither do I like movies such as &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Initial&lt;strong&gt; D&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Someday I will be here to write a LIKE list, I mean once I got time to.&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/7629010-112139225389681455?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/112139225389681455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=112139225389681455' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112139225389681455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112139225389681455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/07/food-for-thoughts.html' title='Food for thoughts'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-112028769921364194</id><published>2005-07-02T15:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-02T15:01:39.220+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another woman</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Another woman is between you and I, you treat her as a friend while I treat her as an enemy. She’s not your enemy because she’s pretty, (lots of people think that she’s a beauty) yet she’s my enemy because she seems to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another woman treats herself as a princess, the centre of the world and the queen of queens. I’m a princess too, but I never accuse people who I don’t know so easily. I realize that I can’t be correct every time, and I pay attention on others’ ideas. Another woman however is always correct, she thinks that she holds the truth, always, and you make her thinks so. She’s not eloquent in the sense she doesn’t need to argue to be right, oh my god, she’s always right, is she miss right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t have any affair with another woman, but she hates me. This indignation came from nowhere somehow hurts me, you, my dear one, at the moment said that you understood what she meant. Sometimes you indirectly subconsciously defend her, this hurts me too, darling. I’m just so easily to be hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another woman is a perfectionist not because she’s perfect, but she may secretly think that she’s morally admirable. If you don’t stand in a line with her, you are wrong, and she hates you. Don’t ever try to add NO on her YES, she’s born to be harsh, to those give her opportunities, praises and love. She dances with three legs and never falls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t care who another woman is, but I care whenever you speak up for her. You are trying to deny her role of being an “another woman”, the more you are trying to prove there’s nothing more than friendship between you two, the more confused I got to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You complain about how she treats you unreasonably and harshly, she thinks she could make you do whatever for her, for she is your special one. She throws temper at you when you are not at the faulty side, however you never fight back, you ended up with apologies and she won again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate another woman’s presence affect our peace, I have enough reason to hate her, she is important to you yet you keep denying her importance, can’t you just be honest to yourself?  This kind of people never realized that they have asked too much from others. They are lucky, because there are people like you always indulge them, you are co-existing with “another woman”.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-112028769921364194?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/112028769921364194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=112028769921364194' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112028769921364194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/112028769921364194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/07/another-woman.html' title='Another woman'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-111825760774982594</id><published>2005-06-09T02:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-09T12:08:53.220+08:00</updated><title type='text'>This pace</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Kaine's going back on friday, she came to visit me yesterday, brought her Nepal boyfriend, who talks in slightly indian English accent. He's a nice guy, quite understanding and looks smart. Obviously his smart looking added points otherwise I wouldn't take his advice of changing my accent, he thought I lack of stress when I tried to talk very fast.&lt;br /&gt;Kaine has changed to a super girlish person,she was so pinkish,pink top matches a darker pink low waist pants, plus a pair of pink colour flip-flops, and she was hugging a pink piglet when she waved to me.Her Nepal boyfriend was standing beside her like her body guard, if he is taller,I mean.&lt;br /&gt;In fact I was surprised Kaine actually adapted so fast, thought it's a pity for her to come here studying in university. After seeing she enjoy her current life, I was confused. I don't need to worry for her,it somehow makes me feel lost.However I would like to admit that she's much more mature than me, in every sense. She always knows herself better than anyone does anytime anywhere...She used to be the only fellow I admired in secondary school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, enough about my dearest Kaine,she will be doing well.&lt;br /&gt;And now I shall introduce the other K again, I am willing to mention about her in every entry because I love her. Our dinner at KFC yesterday was fun. After going to MOE to fix some trouble in the morning and meeting Kaine,I was tired. This is me, always have lots of complaints when I feel tired. The whole day I was complaining about the ceaseless road constructing around my place and places I went to.But after seeing K, I seemed in bliss and forgot all the unpleasant.Probably she never noticed.Hey, my sweetheart came.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-111825760774982594?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/111825760774982594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=111825760774982594' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111825760774982594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111825760774982594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/06/this-pace.html' title='This pace'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-111803939775679616</id><published>2005-06-06T13:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T14:29:57.790+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Weird dream</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I dreamt of my grandpa, grandma and greatgrandma yesterday night, perhaps I miss them all too much. After my mum told me grandpa's tumor is  getting worse, which affects his thigh muscle, large intestine nerves and his digestive system. My mum suggested me to call grandpa more often. I always being think that he is a good man, not that highly educated but with lots of truth in his heart. His views on how to live, how to be a useful man are very correct to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; And his wife, my dear grandma, who has suffered from a bad traffic accident two years ago, nobody expected she would stand up again but she did. This brave woman has came back from the verge of death. When I was young, I lived with her, quarreled with her frequently, I screamed at her and she screamed back., and my all the neighbors knew that she had a naughty grand daughter. I can’t remember since when we don’t argue anymore, since when she started being proud of me, and since when I believe that I have an understanding grandma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My great grandma is 97 years old, she brought up my mum and me. In fact she’s a good nanny, brought up dunno how many dozens kids. Juntil now I still think her cooking is the best in the world. When she gets older and older, her eyesight became blur and can’t hear us properly, but she still tells lots of interesting stories which contain wisdoms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I miss them. Dreamt of visiting them. During my lunch break on a school day. I only had one and half hour to visit them, it was in hurry, after lunch with them I have to go back to school, it’s from clementi to bedok. Funny… I clearly remember it was 1:30, I only had one hour to travel back , my lesson however starts at 2, then I was thinking of whether I need to go back…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally I didn’t go to school. Didn’t want to ,this feeling is very true either in dreams or in reality. I woke up with a bumpy heart, upset uneasy feeling. I’m so far away from my family, not clememti to bedok, it’s not far at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well this morning was online, chatting with many missing friends, strangers and even enemies. Have sent several long emails to those best friends. feel good then.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-111803939775679616?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/111803939775679616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=111803939775679616' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111803939775679616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111803939775679616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/06/weird-dream.html' title='Weird dream'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-111795392605826790</id><published>2005-06-05T14:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-05T14:45:26.063+08:00</updated><title type='text'>U R SO IMPORTANT TO ME</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#990000;"&gt;In the morning, u were still sleeping, like a baby,hugging a small pillow,with milk smell on it. I woke up，went to the washroom and came back, sat beside u, looking at ur baby face.ur lips and your eyes. You are so important to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Watched LOST IN TRANSLATION with K, quite like the ending，and the actress. Maybe I should just say quite like the movie...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Just realised the first week of my holiday has gone, and I didn't touched my notes for weeks. Perhaps, I gotta do something...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-111795392605826790?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/111795392605826790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=111795392605826790' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111795392605826790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111795392605826790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/06/u-r-so-important-to-me.html' title='U R SO IMPORTANT TO ME'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-111699942056821049</id><published>2005-05-25T13:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-25T13:37:00.606+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The end justifies the mean</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mess&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Firstly,  my feeling to dear Astro club.After SYF,I don't feel I'm belong to the club anymore, I'm not involving in various activities, partly because I haven't attended several meetings and didn't contribute much.In fact I feel quite sad, being so distant to those astro friends now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Secondly is my post chicken pox studying period.Lots of work need to be catched up.This week is full occupied, CO practice everyday and sports carnival stuff...I dislike to be busy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;And,my baby's having chicken pox too.She got it from me, which makes me feel guilty. I hate that I don't have time to spend with her these days.And even been accused by others of being selfish.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Suddenly I feel she's so far away from me, very cold tone on the phone.I understand she's suffering, the pain is unbearable and so on. I also understand she needs someone to take care of her,buying lunch or dinner...But I couldn't do for her! Even felt I was able to carry on this relationship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Feeling: very very very bad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Delight&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;Watched  Star War III with baby last Friday,had a good time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;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/7629010-111699942056821049?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/111699942056821049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=111699942056821049' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111699942056821049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111699942056821049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/05/end-justifies-mean.html' title='The end justifies the mean'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-111620827063320502</id><published>2005-05-16T09:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T09:51:10.640+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Recovering</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I've been having chicken pox for more than one week, they are gradually disappearing now,so glad that I'm gonna go back to school, going back to my dear orchestra.(: and my sport carnival won't turn to be a spot carnival.It seems most of the things are on the right track, thank god.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Evelyn put her pictures with the new bf on her blog, I was quite surprised,she's changed a lot, to god's will. She keeps being faithful all the time, for her, god is all.And I never intend to reflect what I've done wrongly,including my sexuality,this love comes out naturally.I just don't ask god whether it is inappropriate.But still, he is the father in my heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I always have lots of complaints about hostel life,I want to be free.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-111620827063320502?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/111620827063320502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=111620827063320502' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111620827063320502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111620827063320502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/05/recovering.html' title='Recovering'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-111606780023623089</id><published>2005-05-14T18:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-14T18:50:00.243+08:00</updated><title type='text'>key to my heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;table style="font-family: serif; color: black; font-size: 12pt;" width="350" align="center" border="0" cellspacing="8" cellpadding="5"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="center" bgcolor="#FF99CC"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3 style="margin: 0; border: 0;"&gt;The Keys to Your Heart&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FF9FD2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are attracted to those who have a split personality - cold as ice on the outside but hot as fire in the heart.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFA6D9"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In love, you feel the most alive when your partner is patient and never willing to give up on you.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFACDF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'd like  your lover to think you are flexible and ready for anything!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFB3E6"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You would be forced to break up with someone who was ruthless, cold-blooded, and sarcastic.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFB9EC"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your ideal relationship is open. Both of you can talk about everything... no secrets.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFBFF2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your risk of cheating is low. Even if you're tempted, you'd try hard not to do it.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFC6F9"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You think of marriage pessimistically. You don't think happy marriages exist anymore.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFCCFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this moment, you think of love as something you can get or discard anytime. You're feeling self centered.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/keystoyourheartquiz/"&gt;What Are The Keys To Your Heart?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-111606780023623089?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/111606780023623089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=111606780023623089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111606780023623089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111606780023623089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/05/key-to-my-heart.html' title='key to my heart'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-111534401424921391</id><published>2005-05-06T09:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-06T09:46:54.316+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;SYF came to the end,we achieved Gold w/o honours,many members cried after heard the results.Others may think it's good enough to get Gold,but obviously we were seeking something else,a Gold with honours, not only a Gold.It was disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After SYF, I thought I could quickly go back to the study mood,unexpectedly I am sick again. High fever with a severe headache.I was heaty,lots of red spot came out from my face and  back.Going to see doctor later,hope it's not Dengi fever, and it's not rashes like the one I got two years ago.I need to be healthy! :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Was quite sad yesterday, because I couldn't save a dying doggie  in the canal, how I wish to save the poor little thing! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-111534401424921391?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/111534401424921391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=111534401424921391' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111534401424921391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111534401424921391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/05/syf-came-to-endwe-achieved-gold-wo.html' title=''/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-111398708260022705</id><published>2005-04-20T16:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-20T16:56:33.580+08:00</updated><title type='text'>MC</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I can't believe that when I prepared to be sick, I really fell sick. Was having low fever and headache yesterday night, kept coughing and felt no energy.The doctor said it's common flu, he gave me one day MC.&lt;br /&gt;For days, I've been feeling unwell, both physically and emotionally. I think too much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-111398708260022705?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/111398708260022705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=111398708260022705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111398708260022705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111398708260022705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/04/mc.html' title='MC'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-111363434979349462</id><published>2005-04-16T13:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-16T14:52:29.793+08:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm not a fool, most of the time I'm able to sense the danger, but again, I'm in confusion now. I want to tell myself, there's no second time I'm gonna be a third party, it is darn miserable to put myself in such dilemma.&lt;br /&gt;I hope I'm not cheating myself now, because sometimes I think I'm involving, happily, in fact I'm not, even the whole situation changed, it seems not my concern. So contradicting.&lt;br /&gt;And now, I'm sitting here waiting for my partner to come back, with a bumping heart and some skepticism, a roaring stomach and some tears inside the eyes. She will bring me my lunch, hug me and say she misses me. I should trust her, as I always do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-111363434979349462?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/111363434979349462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=111363434979349462' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111363434979349462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111363434979349462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/04/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-111362880088286522</id><published>2005-04-15T13:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-16T13:30:33.086+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Evelyn</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ain't not look for Evelyn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm not gonna look for her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;She's disappeared&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;the Evelyn that I know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;With her blonde hair&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;her blue cheeks and tearful eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Her fears, burden and guilt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Dissolved in the darkness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;She's telling another love story&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;in the shade of the Almighty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;the love story with details without heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;She lifts up God's will&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;God is knocking her door&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;God is present, in her garden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;God is beautiful&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;God is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-111362880088286522?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111362880088286522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111362880088286522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/04/evelyn.html' title='Evelyn'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-111328746424733603</id><published>2005-04-12T14:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-12T14:31:04.246+08:00</updated><title type='text'>3 Months</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Time flies, I really had a good time with you, baby.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;For the three months, I've been loving you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;For what I received from you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-111328746424733603?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/111328746424733603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=111328746424733603' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111328746424733603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111328746424733603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/04/3-months.html' title='3 Months'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-111231993303514624</id><published>2005-04-01T09:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-01T13:34:19.590+08:00</updated><title type='text'>April Fool</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Certain people&lt;br /&gt;I treat them too well&lt;br /&gt;Unnecessarily well, there is not a need&lt;br /&gt;Some of them&lt;br /&gt;Seldom show their respect &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Existing  as the centre of the world&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Not the issue&lt;br /&gt;Regarding superiority&lt;br /&gt;But related to egotism&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;arrogance, haughtiness and conceit&lt;br /&gt;On April Fool, I realised it&lt;br /&gt;Remind myself, to be reasonable&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Why should I treat such people&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Very well, so well?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;They tell you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;they are born to be adored&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;derserve your tolenrance and attention&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm stuck at this concept&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Agaighst, agaighst, agaighst&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;the notion is full of shit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;On April Fool&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Everything is told to be a joke&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;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/7629010-111231993303514624?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/111231993303514624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=111231993303514624' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111231993303514624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111231993303514624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/04/april-fool.html' title='April Fool'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-111218599282780182</id><published>2005-03-30T20:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-01T13:41:01.090+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Learning Journey</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;It's a nice wednesday without chinese orchestra practice but with Learning Journey instead of.Went to Civil Defence Heritage Gallery located at city hall, knew a bit more about the history of fire fighting development in Singapore. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Min hwee asked why I always sound sad in blog... huh? Do I? Sometimes just come here to complain...^_^&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Perhaps these days I constantly feel depressed, as I read through some people' s blogs... Should I think so much? Empty thoughts. hmmm..I may think something more meaningful and good for myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-111218599282780182?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/111218599282780182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=111218599282780182' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111218599282780182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111218599282780182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/03/learning-journey.html' title='Learning Journey'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-111181942098530187</id><published>2005-03-26T14:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-26T15:02:37.313+08:00</updated><title type='text'>K's pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;K took these pictures during the US trip, I like them very much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;And to K: &lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Happy birthday, baby...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img height="222" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y68/viviangore/EPC010534.jpg" width="158" /&gt;     &lt;img height="220" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y68/viviangore/EPC030622.jpg" width="162" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img height="226" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y68/viviangore/EPC030608.jpg" width="176" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 319px; HEIGHT: 241px" height="255" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y68/viviangore/EPC030610.jpg" width="342" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img height="184" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y68/viviangore/EPC030606.jpg" width="234" /&gt;     &lt;img style="WIDTH: 158px; HEIGHT: 245px" height="294" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y68/viviangore/EPC030601.jpg" width="138" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 159px; HEIGHT: 220px" height="233" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y68/viviangore/EPC040643.jpg" width="171" /&gt;        &lt;img style="WIDTH: 161px; HEIGHT: 218px" height="253" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y68/viviangore/EPB280498.jpg" width="191" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img height="208" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y68/viviangore/EPC020547.jpg" width="264" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 163px; HEIGHT: 202px" height="226" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y68/viviangore/EPB280507.jpg" width="178" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-111181942098530187?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/111181942098530187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=111181942098530187' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111181942098530187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111181942098530187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/03/ks-pictures.html' title='K&apos;s pictures'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-111165502860172381</id><published>2005-03-24T17:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-01T13:46:53.556+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rules and Regulations</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Rules and Regulations&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Various rules and regulations are bothering me like hell these days. After I got caught by the hostel management for the second time, I actually turned to think a lot about human rights, personality, adaptability, rigidity, temperaments and so on. Sometimes I feel the rules are inappropriate and lack of logic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, I don’t see the reason the hostel office asks boarders to return their keys and access cards when they go back home during school holidays. It causes inconvenience for the boarders especially when they come back in the early morning and the office is not open. The office people gave an absurd reason for asking for keys and the cards, they said they might want to rearrange the rooms during holiday when the new boarders come. Anyone see the point? How could they rearrange when the boarder is not moved out yet? As if the office holding the key they are holding the security.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hostel management has the right to reject all your applications. They could easily tell you the request is unacceptable because it’s not valid, but in fact we poles apart definition on “valid”. We are require to submit “late-coming-back” form and “staying-out” form in two days advance, and during the two days waiting, they will try their best to prove that your reason is not valid. This usually happens when you are going to somewhere not in your school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nobody wants to take the responsibilities and they just minimize the chance for boarders going out to stay or coming back late. Once I was stuck at the hostel gate since nobody wanted to give me the permission of staying out. The teacher on duty informed my teacher mentor, and my teacher mentor immediately informed the hostel mistress, she appeared in front of me but couldn’t find a way to stop me since my excuse was so “valid” and even they believed so. However she simply informed the hostel master and office manager, in the end, everyone was aware that I was going out to stay on the day. I should have told them the probability of me being murdered is really very low and if I lost my way to come back I am capable to solve the problem since I know how to dial 999.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t have the intention to be a staying-out queen in the hostel and I tried my best not to break the rules, I sign forms before I go out, I surrender my hostel pass when there is necessary, but the time I had done one step they asked for another. For staying out, they asked for parents’ letter, guardian’s letter, I submitted, they still asked for MOE letter and school letter. I was not going to somewhere far for a long period. What they had asked for is superfluous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And they have the rights to do what they want to. They enter our rooms for checking without our permission and didn’t even put a notice saying that they may enter our room. All I feel is my privacy is no longer an issue when I am here as a boarder. Even my parents are supposed to ask for permission to enter for checking! And the one who has checked my room even pasted a note on my door saying that I should put my luggage in the store room, should clean the hairs in the washroom and so on. I’m not allowed to arrange my things in the way I like. and years before they even restricted the type of posters you paste on the wall in your room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It maybe right to say that I’m responsible to be a good student and I’m supposed to submit good academic results to MOE since they pay for my studies, but when it comes to regulate my personal lifestyle, I just can’t accept. The hostel management even threaten us by saying they will send letters to MOE if we break the rules. The time they found their notice board had been scribbled by someone, they made an announcement to warn the someone that if he/she is not come out to admit his/her scholarship will be terminated. What a powerful warning , they always think the scholars in the hostel are offered too much, and they are good for trading, all the rights are reserved for MOE. Our money supplier, our boss. OMG.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My teacher mentor criticized me about being impudent to the office manager, I’m sorry I can’t be sober whenever I feel my legal freedom is restricted. I’m appreciate to the teachers’ concern about our safety, perhaps there is something wrong with I myself, for being disobedient and rebellious, and spoke to teachers in a harsh tone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they try to counsel me, I should just keep silent, and never argue back I’m just very polite, I listened to them and sometimes I even argued. Why didn’t I show an ignorant face and just do nodding, it’s no harm to do that because I don’t have other ways to protect my self-esteem either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are something I’m pretty sure about, firstly, I’m not a kid like what they treat me as. Secondly, I do not need counseling, I teach myself by experiences to live a way. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-111165502860172381?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/111165502860172381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=111165502860172381' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111165502860172381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111165502860172381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/03/rules-and-regulations.html' title='Rules and Regulations'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-111114295782088530</id><published>2005-03-18T18:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-18T18:49:17.823+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cinderalla</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Went to Newsroom on wednesday, the second time sitting at the same place, old memories were brought out. Remember you put your arm around my waist in the dark, I was so nervous.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;   Didn't drink much and didn't feel like dancing either, the Vodka Orange was not that nice at The liquidroom, and we went back before 12, the middle of the night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;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/7629010-111114295782088530?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/111114295782088530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=111114295782088530' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111114295782088530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111114295782088530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/03/cinderalla.html' title='Cinderalla'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-111079045632701149</id><published>2005-03-14T15:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-14T17:04:20.780+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Decision</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I don't like making decision sometimes, either because of I dunno how or it's not for me to decide. If my decision is not gonna affect anything, I'd rather do nothing.In fact I believe that making decision connects with one's personality, most of the decision makers are bossy and they are used to make decisions,they even decide things when they ask for opinion from people, it's unconsciously.One example, there are several ways of asking a person whether he/she needs something. Decision makers ask in this way:" I'm buying ...do you want?" I usually ask in this way, "Do you want...?I may buy for you." See the difference? if you don't see, you probably are a decision maker. How about me? Sometimes I can be a decision maker, but most of the time, I'm a trouble maker.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#999999;"&gt;External pressure&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;I'm talking about another issue here, namely "external pressure".It's regarding my current relationship, as it goes,lots of problems came out, not between my partner and me, but come from external sides.Friends ,family and so on.It seems it's easy to be in love but hard to be involved in a relationship, (of course it's harder to be in marriage then and it's not in my level yet.)Now I understand why Fox broke up with his ex girlfriend even though they were still madly in love.I suddenly feel stressed because of all these external factors,even told my partner about it,and I found what we could do is limited.And my partner said : too bad, the reality is different.Therefore I have a conclusion here, &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;love is not equal to relationship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;But isn't it nicer to have your beloved one around? And now I shall say what the first part I talked about are just nonsense, this time even though I know my decision won't affect much,in spite of these external pressure,still I decide to be with my partner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Change&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;Maybe I'm writing this part to my partner...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;When we come to be together, there are increased oppoturnities for us to influence each other,these changes are likely to bring us closer, I'm glad.However, I don't mean to totally change you, or when I see some changes starting cause troubles for you, I feel upset and guilty.&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/7629010-111079045632701149?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/111079045632701149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=111079045632701149' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111079045632701149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111079045632701149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/03/decision.html' title='Decision'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-111046186513573430</id><published>2005-03-10T21:16:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-10T21:37:45.150+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Buddy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm glad that Hanwen came to visit us today, she's the best buddy among all, always being friendly and cheerful, hope she will find a higher paid job soon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;March holiday is coming soon, seems most people around are stressed out,was telling Hanwen in fact I could feel the stress strongly long time ago, and she gave me a  smile, said, don't be stressed, things will be fine. It's just like everybody else will tell me, things will be fine, be strong etc... but it's different when comes from Hanwen's mouth, I was just cheered up by her. Then I walk with her to the opposite side of school, wished to give her a hug when she walked away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;It's really great having friends around.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-111046186513573430?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/111046186513573430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=111046186513573430' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111046186513573430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111046186513573430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/03/buddy.html' title='Buddy'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-111028659066369609</id><published>2005-03-08T20:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-08T20:56:30.666+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Being a perfect slacker</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;STUDY LESS and you will get a better grade...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;This is what I understood from this morning's A level analysis.  I was also aware that if you have depression you may have a higher chance to do well in exams, and if you don't take prelims you will be in a better condition sitting for A level...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;All above are craps, but they came out from those 4AS  students' mouths. Or I should adoubt my ability of understanding simple English?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Being a perfect slacker is always my dream.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;Oh well, I did badly in today's chemistry practical exam, it's A Level exam,OMG.I was not qualified to be a crystal producer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-111028659066369609?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/111028659066369609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=111028659066369609' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111028659066369609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/111028659066369609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/03/being-perfect-slacker.html' title='Being a perfect slacker'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-110989990773721735</id><published>2005-03-04T09:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-04T09:31:47.736+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What's so amazing about really deep thoughts?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I decided to choose a dry course in university.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-110989990773721735?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/110989990773721735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=110989990773721735' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/110989990773721735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/110989990773721735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/03/whats-so-amazing-about-really-deep.html' title='What&apos;s so amazing about really deep thoughts?'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-110906750020671292</id><published>2005-02-22T17:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-02T20:39:59.736+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer has an echo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I'd like to believe that everyday is a new day for myself...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;The burning weather has been last for more than a month, it's really hot.Perhaps this is called SUMMER. I feel good whenever there is a message reminds me to drink more water and to have enough rest in this goddamn hot weather. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact I have a few things to blog these days, seems I just don't have enough time. Well, let me count...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to art museum with K last Friday because there was this Fernando Botero's exhibition, more than 70 paintings and 20 plus sculptures.I appretiate his sculptures rather than his paintings, those oils on canvas look better on computer screens.:) there are some I like, such as Mile Rivière, (after Ingres 2000, oil on canvas, 171 x 131 cm) and there is one sunflower painting drew my attention, as Van Gogh's big fan, I may be critical on sunflower paintings... I like Botero's sunflower too, it gives me a very different impression.&lt;br /&gt;after that we went to Esplanade to see those sulptures, took a lot of pictures, even though the weather was hot, I had fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Saturday was our school annual road run day, I aim for TOP 20 but failed, placed as 21st instead, was a little bit disappointed, and yet I think it was a nice day. Went to church that afternoon, Sarah said there's a good sermon on that day, it's about marriage, how to deal with a husband who is strange. I was absent the previous weekend, and i missed out " how to deal with a wife who is weriod". In fact I didn't learn much in this section. During the cell group meeting after church service, we discussed about it again, and I was supposed to list down the values of my potential husband, I gave some general comments like he must be understanding, caring, and willing to be responsible for the family, compromise and accommandate etc. I was thinking that it probably hard for men to be my husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today.&lt;br /&gt;My usual long Tuesday with three periods of chemistry practical and a PE lesson has nothing special going on.&lt;br /&gt;Chit chat with Tuan this morning , showed off my new pencilcase. He gave some akward comments...*_! Since the person who gives me the pencilcase sewed something on it, Tuan was guessing the SPECIAL meaning of those words and pictures, he said, there must be a hidden story with" summer has an echo", tell me, what did you do with the person in summer? I was laughing all the time and he continued: "hey, look, you have to know clear what the person was trying to tell you by putting on all the hints here..you have to know the person well. just like last time my girlfriend folded 59 stars for me and after that she gave me 30 stars again which is just after we got attached one month. " then I asked, what's the 59 mean then? he said, I don't know, she didn't tell, guess she tried to fold 60 but missed out one.&lt;br /&gt;I was about to faint ...&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/7629010-110906750020671292?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/110906750020671292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=110906750020671292' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/110906750020671292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/110906750020671292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/02/summer-has-echo.html' title='Summer has an echo'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-110760282328177553</id><published>2005-02-05T19:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-23T14:51:19.413+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Loner</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Yesterday was the Chinese New Year celebration in school, our orchestra performed. Now is quite fun in the orchestra because of this funny guy called Timothy came. I think I like to mix with guys simply because they make me laugh. After that went to marina bay to have steamboat with a group of people, the guys there talked a lot of jokes, I felt that I haven't been so happy for very long. The way I laughed reminded me the precious three years secondary school life. When I think about all these on the way back, I actually felt very lonely, for the recent three years, I always feel lonely in school, partly because of my class, or because of my own character.I need more friends, more sincere funny friends. That's me, I will die if I don't have friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Today is our flag selling day again, I strongly agree with that flag selling is wasting of my time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;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/7629010-110760282328177553?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/110760282328177553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=110760282328177553' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/110760282328177553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/110760282328177553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/02/loner.html' title='Loner'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-110713596365928293</id><published>2005-01-31T09:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-23T14:48:35.106+08:00</updated><title type='text'>How it goes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I know the day will come, get attached and everything. Sometimes, i still feel guilty about myself, just being unable to afford this kind of life. However it's not as bad as full of confusion, regrets, or negative thoughts. i'm still being who i am rather than who i should be. at the same time, i keep asking myself if things i've done are appropriate, and i always failed to get the conclusion. surprisingly, one of my resolutions for 2005 is to spend less time on the phone, in fact i failed to do so again. now i realise my biggest problem is that i dunno what my ambition is. i kept changing my mind, i'm so capricious. :( &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-110713596365928293?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/110713596365928293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=110713596365928293' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/110713596365928293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/110713596365928293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/01/how-it-goes.html' title='How it goes'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-110540769442084806</id><published>2005-01-11T09:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-23T14:52:09.436+08:00</updated><title type='text'>B'day present</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;GUESS WHAT, I jus got a pink colour shirt from Si keren. I was very happy. finally got sth pink to wear. even Sher said that i'm getting more girlish. hooray... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&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/7629010-110540769442084806?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/110540769442084806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=110540769442084806' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/110540769442084806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/110540769442084806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/01/bday-present.html' title='B&apos;day present'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-110493277659047740</id><published>2005-01-05T21:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-23T14:52:51.726+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Suddenly I feel like to be involved in a stable relationship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I didn't do relationship, perhaps I haven't met the right person and I did believe that "single is simple, double is trouble". I am not sure how one's life parterner could help to colour one's life, I have never tried before.I mean, the very serious one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;As the friends around me are getting attached one by one, I started feeing lonely, bored and often throw my temper for no reason.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;In fact , that was what I thought, I wanted to be married directly. And I realised being &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;the third party of any other couple is not a funny matter and I can't get any fulfillment from it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;It's not good for me to play this kind of games anymore, I think. Obviously people want to be the main course rather than the side, is it meaningful I keep asking myself whether I am in love with the one who made me being a third party? as in not the significant role.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&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/7629010-110493277659047740?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/110493277659047740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=110493277659047740' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/110493277659047740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/110493277659047740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/01/random-thoughts.html' title='Random thoughts'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-110474885244572964</id><published>2005-01-03T18:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-23T14:53:42.356+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The first day,i'm sick of sch already</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;School life sucks.&lt;br /&gt;Monday's orchard road sucks.&lt;br /&gt;most of the things here sucks.&lt;br /&gt;Only you,&lt;br /&gt;I like u standing beside me,&lt;br /&gt;and telling me lots of interesting things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how to respond ur questions,&lt;br /&gt;and no doubts of what u are saying.&lt;br /&gt;nothing,&lt;br /&gt;but i want u to be with me.&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/7629010-110474885244572964?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/110474885244572964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=110474885244572964' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/110474885244572964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/110474885244572964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/01/first-dayim-sick-of-sch-already.html' title='The first day,i&apos;m sick of sch already'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-110467438091675131</id><published>2005-01-02T21:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-01-02T21:59:40.916+08:00</updated><title type='text'>2005</title><content type='html'>HUG YOU, 2005.&lt;br /&gt;I dunno why I'm back to this tropical country again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-110467438091675131?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/110467438091675131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=110467438091675131' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/110467438091675131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/110467438091675131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2005/01/2005.html' title='2005'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-110052001034264064</id><published>2004-11-15T19:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-23T14:54:26.700+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Timing</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I was reading something, it says, &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;the timing is always wrong. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;things are going in the right direction, just the timing is wrong. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;certain people always appear at the wrong time, and certain wrong decision somehow have been made. in the end , the right things go wrong. I was wondering, if some people appear in my life earlier, things will be very different. I feel relieved if i keep telling myself nothing wrong but only the timing&lt;/span&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/7629010-110052001034264064?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/110052001034264064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=110052001034264064' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/110052001034264064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/110052001034264064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2004/11/timing.html' title='Timing'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-109939559397227326</id><published>2004-11-02T19:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-23T14:55:40.906+08:00</updated><title type='text'>PW is over</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Project work is over, hooray~~~&lt;br /&gt;After our oral presentation yesterday, i asked my pw member when the next meeting is, they all laughed :), yes, finally i can throw all those pw stuff away.&lt;br /&gt;went to meet Erica yesterday night, she's so skinny now...i needed to buy birthday present for some friends, about 4 of them, and she also needed to buy something for frog, i suggested . in the end, i bought a pen holder for frog, while she bought a set of stone plate with sand and shells inside. it's not easy to choose birthday present for your close friends, you cannot anyhow buy something..&lt;br /&gt;I asked Stan what boys like, coz Walmond's birthday is coming, Stan said , anything that can show you have spent time to prepare. he said he's not the type "for money", i was so surprised. he said papaya actually bought him a t-shirt , what special about it is she spent time to draw on it. he said, otherwise, a t-shirt , which can buy from shops is not really a nice gift. i was so speechless since we just bought a t-shirt for him...then i said, well, you are gonna get another t-shirt soon... in fact his birthday passed for two weeks already, the slow princess E still hasn't give him the t-shirt...&lt;br /&gt;well,tmr will go to celebrate frog's birthday, hmmm, can have a good drinking time there... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-109939559397227326?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/109939559397227326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=109939559397227326' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109939559397227326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109939559397227326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2004/11/pw-is-over.html' title='PW is over'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-109923217156881747</id><published>2004-10-31T22:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-23T14:56:17.030+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nick Cave</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I bought Nick Cave's 2004 album yesterday, juz as i expected, enjoy listening to it. Well, Nick Cave is still my favourite...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abattoir Blues&lt;br /&gt;The Lyre Of Orpheus&lt;br /&gt;1. Get Ready For Love&lt;br /&gt;2. Cannibal's Hymn&lt;br /&gt;3. Hiding All Away&lt;br /&gt;4. Messiah Ward&lt;br /&gt;5. There She Goes, My Beautiful World&lt;br /&gt;6 . Nature Boy&lt;br /&gt;7 . Abattoir Blues&lt;br /&gt;8 . Let The Bells Ring&lt;br /&gt;9 . Fable Of The Brown Ape&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lyre Of Orpheus&lt;br /&gt;1. The Lyre Of Orpheus&lt;br /&gt;2. Breathless&lt;br /&gt;3. Babe, You Turn Me&lt;br /&gt;. Easy Money&lt;br /&gt;5. Supernaturally&lt;br /&gt;6. Spell&lt;br /&gt;7. Carry Me&lt;br /&gt;8. O Children&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/7629010-109923217156881747?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/109923217156881747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=109923217156881747' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109923217156881747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109923217156881747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2004/10/nick-cave.html' title='Nick Cave'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-109914575316218687</id><published>2004-10-30T22:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-11-15T20:04:56.096+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What's going on here</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Promo has finished...finally, luckily got promoted to year 2, i'm always at the boarder line, in another word, i'm very stupid. Actually at the moment the results come out, i felt so lost, felt there's no one standing beside me when i was in trouble. in the end things became better. hmmm, i would like to thank Tuan, he's with me when i was low, his jokes always made me laugh out loudly. i asked him to read the comics i'm reading these days, COUNT CAIN, by kaori yuki, i love it so much, bloody bloody bloody... i told Tuan probably u would think love in a different way and you may not trust people so easily after reading the comics. he used his " celebrity smile" to respond, and said, well, i won't trust you if you say so...:)&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, things just keep going like that, keep changing, mixed with happiness and sorrow, disappointment and wonderful wishes. I need to appreciate my life.&lt;br /&gt;Bought Nick Cave's new album, i know this man can make me feel calm.&lt;br /&gt;Erlin's birthday is coming soon, what should i buy for her? :) hmmm must think about it carefully... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-109914575316218687?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109914575316218687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109914575316218687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2004/10/whats-going-on-here.html' title='What&apos;s going on here'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-109791164648954919</id><published>2004-10-16T15:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-10-16T15:27:26.490+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick</title><content type='html'>I'm sick.&lt;br /&gt;I'm bored.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not happy.&lt;br /&gt;Miss home...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will cut my hair in nov.&lt;br /&gt;I shall be obedient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What have I done to make things worse.&lt;br /&gt;I dunno,&lt;br /&gt;coz u never come&lt;br /&gt;into my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-109791164648954919?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/109791164648954919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=109791164648954919' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109791164648954919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109791164648954919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2004/10/sick_16.html' title='Sick'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-109541750773373298</id><published>2004-09-17T18:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-28T21:30:10.290+08:00</updated><title type='text'>LOVE is Temporal</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Love is temporal, passion is forgettable, only the pain is always with you ...I'm not trying to be pessimistic here, but since something unpleasant has happened, I'm trying my best to calm down.I'm not gonna lower myself any furthur, it's not my fault, or anyone else' fault, juz dunno how to solve the problem, and I see nothing wrong seeking for the respect from others.I wish the person cares for me, a little bit is enough, unfortunately... or perhaps nobody's gonna care?let's hide behind the pain, not avoiding or ignoring, pain can't be ignored, it's alway being there.LOVE is so unbelievable...Told Tuan about the whole situation and some random thoughts, he seemed being terrified again.I'm like this, keep changing my mind, some people may not accept it, but I juz can't help. life is about changing , you can't always lie in the comfort zone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-109541750773373298?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/109541750773373298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=109541750773373298' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109541750773373298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109541750773373298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2004/09/love-is-temporal.html' title='LOVE is Temporal'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-109361367548956042</id><published>2004-08-27T21:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-10-08T12:40:55.206+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Haven't been here for so long</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Oh, jc life is so busy, dun really have time to blog here, didn't even write anything worthy on my chinese blog, sigh... well, what is happening here? RECENTLY...&lt;br /&gt;1 Bought a new handphone, N3120, very cheap, but i needed to put $200 deposit in , which means at the end it's not cheap...&lt;br /&gt;2 Someone suddenly said " you are not my type" to me, i consider it as an insult, coz i didn't even say " i love u" before the person throw these foxy words to me.&lt;br /&gt;3 Here the thief came again, stole my milk, ice cream etc... dunno they lack of money or lack of brain...&lt;br /&gt;4 I want to go home, I miss my friends there...&lt;br /&gt;5 Last week Pa came back for 3 days, went to send her off at the airport, only saw her for 5 minutes, that sweet gal, the kindest gal I've ever seen... miss her...&lt;br /&gt;6 Should I complain again here that I really dunno how to improve my school work, I'm not lazy in that sense, juz can't focus on it.&lt;br /&gt;7 what else?&lt;br /&gt;8 Oh, I met my Egyptian friend online just now, had a pleasant conversation with him.&lt;br /&gt;9 Oh no, Tuan accidentally discover something which i don't want him to know.&lt;br /&gt;10 Stanley looks much more mature than before, no wonder papaya messages him so often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-109361367548956042?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/109361367548956042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=109361367548956042' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109361367548956042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109361367548956042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2004/08/havent-been-here-for-so-long.html' title='Haven&apos;t been here for so long'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-109326767010634360</id><published>2004-08-23T21:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-17T19:08:14.286+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I need to study hard while enjoy my Wall's ice cream</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Well, the title is all i wanna say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-109326767010634360?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/109326767010634360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=109326767010634360' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109326767010634360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109326767010634360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2004/08/i-need-to-study-hard-while-enjoy-my.html' title='I need to study hard while enjoy my Wall&apos;s ice cream'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-109168277511801076</id><published>2004-08-05T13:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-17T19:16:29.053+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Still have physics practical </title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I can't wait to go back and sleep or do something not related to study.&lt;br /&gt;juz finished the econs test, definitely will fail again. i juz don't understand why i can't make it. yah, maybe yesterday i shouldn't sleep so early. i was having diarhear, and i indulged myself to lie down on the bed till this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got Kaine's email, kinda delighted. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-109168277511801076?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/109168277511801076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=109168277511801076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109168277511801076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109168277511801076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2004/08/still-have-physics-practical.html' title='Still have physics practical '/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-109160155748430523</id><published>2004-08-04T14:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-23T20:07:41.040+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Messy day</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;It's a messy wednesday ever, everything seemed going silly. Contact time didn't have any useful talk but project work discussion. The irritating member was irritating as usual, and why it's so hard for me to express myself clearly, I mean , in a verbal way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JC life is busy, maybe it's better than secondary school days, but I'm still not enjoying it.&lt;br /&gt;GP teacher was not here again and because of various learning journeys and talks , the econs teacher cancelled the lesson. the National Day rehearsal will be at 3:30 which is soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like the situation, when I talk to someone, the person pretending not hear me or just ask "AH..AH" back as if she/he didn't hear clearly. Yah, I'm referring someone, I'm sick of hearing a language which I don't understand everyday. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-109160155748430523?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/109160155748430523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=109160155748430523' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109160155748430523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109160155748430523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2004/08/messy-day.html' title='Messy day'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-109151746731883205</id><published>2004-08-03T15:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-23T20:08:26.296+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Small change</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Singapore National Day is coming.&lt;br /&gt;New Econs test is coming.&lt;br /&gt;movie day is coming...&lt;br /&gt;things are going on, even though there is a small change.&lt;br /&gt;N is coming back one day before the natinal day. I have waited for N for more than 3 months already.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-109151746731883205?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/109151746731883205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=109151746731883205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109151746731883205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109151746731883205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2004/08/small-change.html' title='Small change'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-109109160860656201</id><published>2004-07-29T16:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-23T20:09:03.493+08:00</updated><title type='text'>BETWEEN THE GUTTER AND THE STARS...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Between the gutter and the stars /people are peole who they are..."&lt;br /&gt;I'm reading this book" Elvis, Jesus and Coca-Cola" written by Kinky Friendman. The sentence above impressed me, I was aware that I'm  actually who I am, who I should be. It maybe something about FATE, err, positively.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I will finish read this book, even though the letters are very small which I dislike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What did I do for past several days? STUDY! Sometimes thought about someone who are deserved to recall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a period when most of the things go wrongly and everyone around seems nerd  but still need to apprieciate the wonderfulness of the life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-109109160860656201?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/109109160860656201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=109109160860656201' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109109160860656201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109109160860656201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2004/07/between-gutter-and-stars.html' title='BETWEEN THE GUTTER AND THE STARS...'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-109091102988605794</id><published>2004-07-27T14:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-23T20:10:18.130+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stress</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;ALL the stress come from studying. tests, tests, tests...then exams....sigh &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-109091102988605794?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/109091102988605794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=109091102988605794' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109091102988605794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109091102988605794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2004/07/stress.html' title='Stress'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-109048754247709262</id><published>2004-07-22T16:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-23T20:12:51.026+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wash me, I can be whiter than snow</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It's wonderful getting close to GOD.&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time i wish myself getting closer to HIM, and being more obedient. i like psalm 51, for no reason i read it again and again. "Wash me, that i can be whiter than snow!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Racial harmony day&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was Singapore's racial harmony day , some people were wearing various kinds of costumes, i didn't, somehow feel sick about it. Er and Pat were very pretty in their beautiful costumes, Pat , as the conductor of the guitar club, went onto  the stage and performed, i took a lot of pictures of her.( why i like to talk about Er and Pat so much here?^Q^)&lt;br /&gt;I also took picture with susu, a pretty gal from other class. Stanley must be jealous about this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blood donation&lt;br /&gt;It was my first time donating blood today, this is a way to show our kindness, i just want to be as kind as possible. there are some fearful reasons people are unwilling to donate blood, but none is for me , my main concern is my own body condition, i had low blood pressure before,  that makes donating blood not so easy for me. but today i went to the school hall to have a try.  Luckily my blood pressure was quite okay. in fact i still encounted the trouble, firstly the nurse could not find my vein properly, she was more nervous than me when the needle stopped at the half way of injection. this problem was solved by one of the more experienced nurses, but another trouble came, which is my blood couldn't flow out. this was the reason i refused to donate at the very beginning, i knew it would happen. fortunately, due to my hard pressing  of the rubber handle , the blood finally came out, in a snail's speed, but praise god it was not drop by drop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent more time than others to fill in one bag, and after that the nurse was so sure about my "unwell" condition,  i think i was ok, the nurse was too caring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Irma was so scared of the needles,  but finally she made the decision to donate, (she's a good gal) unfortunately the nurse said her vein was too thin that unable to be a donator... she seemed a little bit disappointed and she still stayed back and waited for me to finish, thanks for her support there, thank Mitchell too, i was so touched when she held my hand at the time  the nurse was injecting the needle in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blood donation made me thought that i have done something right. i think everyone feels happy when they helping others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-109048754247709262?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/109048754247709262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=109048754247709262' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109048754247709262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109048754247709262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2004/07/wash-me-i-can-be-whiter-than-snow.html' title='Wash me, I can be whiter than snow'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-109006974856165389</id><published>2004-07-17T19:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-07-29T17:10:54.820+08:00</updated><title type='text'>IT WAS A PERFECT DAY</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I haven't been so happy for very long...haha, i went to eat Japanese food with my best indo friends.&amp;nbsp; The place is really very nice, we took off our shoes, tried to behave like real japanese, pat can speak a little bit japanese, she's an excellent gal, knows so much but never showed off.and&amp;nbsp;she was wearing a white jacket, i dubbed her as polar bear, she smiled like a princess...&amp;nbsp;Er was as cute as usual, brought a lot of laughters to us. Sher has just become the vice prresident of our astro club, by the way, Er is the secretary now and me is the research director. we all got something in the end, the interview was not as scary as i imagined. pat, our dear student condutor of guitar club never ran for any post in astro club. oh yah, i ate eels with the super delicious jap egg, after eating i was full like a mad.yes, it was a nice day yesterday. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;I'm supposed to discuss something with my project work group online, now waiting for them all, those &amp;nbsp;lazy kids... &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;why blogcn.com still not working? suddenly feel like lost contact with all those net friends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-109006974856165389?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/109006974856165389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=109006974856165389' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109006974856165389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/109006974856165389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2004/07/it-was-perfect-day.html' title='IT WAS A PERFECT DAY'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-108996141242538978</id><published>2004-07-16T14:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-07-29T17:09:43.316+08:00</updated><title type='text'>WISH I CAN ACCESS</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;There is something wrong with blogcn.com. I can't access in to blog. Feel like&amp;nbsp;blogging so much &amp;nbsp;these days since many things have happened, and they are those things i actually care about. i've just written a poem yesterday, i want to upload it to my blog too, (not the one here). &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;Should i say that here is a TRUE ME? there was a period i was not very sure who i am, i was a mixed role at that time. it's very strange, i feel that i'm true, i'm who i'm supposed to be when&amp;nbsp;i blog here IN ENGLISH. when&amp;nbsp;i blog in my first language i'm usually&amp;nbsp;influenced by my illusion, and created a different life for myself. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;Perhaps i will tell &amp;nbsp;Er to come here, sometimes i wish i'm her, she is the cutest gal i've ever seen, it seems that she never irritated anyone, everyone gets well with her. THANK&amp;nbsp; GOD let me have the chance to be her friend. i'm even wondering that what if there is no cultural barrier between us... &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;Yah~~~i'll have astro club later at 6pm, hope i will have fun there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-108996141242538978?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/108996141242538978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=108996141242538978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/108996141242538978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/108996141242538978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2004/07/wish-i-can-access.html' title='WISH I CAN ACCESS'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7629010.post-108980448636483733</id><published>2004-07-14T19:12:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2004-07-17T21:35:06.246+08:00</updated><title type='text'>IT'S A NEW START</title><content type='html'>I'm still not very sure why i signed in here to blog. I guess that most of my friends are not inteseted in my English blog. Am i gonna tell anyone that actually I have an English blog? &lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it's a new start for me, after the super bad June common test, I really feel depressed,and the BIG 5 personality analysis reported me as a extreme person, both of my positive and negative emotion values are very high, much higher than the rest. some more. i was analysed as a slacker. Is there anything should be proud of? let me think... My morningness value is quite high. But still, i'm a slacker. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7629010-108980448636483733?l=goresometimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/feeds/108980448636483733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7629010&amp;postID=108980448636483733' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/108980448636483733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7629010/posts/default/108980448636483733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://goresometimes.blogspot.com/2004/07/its-new-start_14.html' title='IT&apos;S A NEW START'/><author><name>Viviangore</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
