<?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-7334445485934254334</id><updated>2012-01-27T00:54:24.295+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Play with fire, you get burned.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Sophia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-muxbdhYYXWM/TkjoTQ-oqzI/AAAAAAAAAHw/pDCEiM29X6E/s220/37991_149185071758332_100000005212687_472880_885921_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7334445485934254334.post-8012412309047970418</id><published>2011-03-10T00:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T00:04:15.822+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hola, I'm back!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;In the middle of reviewing for BMA lec, I felt a sudden rush of blood and an unforeseen &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; "&gt;urge to write. Soon afterward, I found myself staring in front of a blank notepad &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; "&gt;document, figuring out where shall I begin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;I had no idea. I felt so.... vacant. As though I was a virgin in writing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;Correct me if I'm mistaken but I think I used to be a good writer.. Or at least someone who made sense. I remember composing constructive and uplifting blog entries, as if I was some psychotheraphist giving some broken hearted girl a tolerably effective love advice. But now, I think to myself, what happened to the girl who used to write love in her arms? Where did all that artfulness go? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;I'd like to think that maybe, just maybe, it's the lack of inspiration. I could really use a muse right now *sang it to the tune of Airplanes* to unleash the Shakespeare or Meg Cabot in me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; "&gt;In the meantime, you could read my old posts if you can still find 'em. I must say I have a very complicated layout.. Funny how gay I was. Goodnight!&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/7334445485934254334-8012412309047970418?l=perfectloveguru.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/feeds/8012412309047970418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2011/03/hola-im-back.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/8012412309047970418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/8012412309047970418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2011/03/hola-im-back.html' title='Hola, I&apos;m back!'/><author><name>Sophia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-muxbdhYYXWM/TkjoTQ-oqzI/AAAAAAAAAHw/pDCEiM29X6E/s220/37991_149185071758332_100000005212687_472880_885921_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7334445485934254334.post-6163534148943665136</id><published>2009-05-01T23:38:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T23:42:50.468+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It makes me sad that I wasn't able to party with Tey and her/our friends. I miss the squad, I miss everyone! I should really be off there, drinking all night long. I had my escape planned, but then Mom decided that I'll leave for Filinvest on Monday. Hence, I can't step a foot or two outside the house without her supervision.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Ano ako, grade 1?&lt;/span&gt; I just laid on my bed all day and waited for my friends to post their pictures. Now I'm rotting wit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;h envy. Thank you, Gail. Haha. Apart from that, Gail's debut is still at stake. Mom's having second thoughts. Well, what's a little girl got to do? She's the boss, I'm just the daughter. Haha! Aside from that, I still don't have a bikini and a gift for her and if I don't get moolah to buy 'em, I'll most prolly won't go. Sorry G! :P I just realized how sucky my summer is. I barely go out, I just go to school and have to go home pronto. I haven't gone by the beach in a while and all I've been doing is bond with Multiply and TV. C'mon, can't I get a taste of the summer breeze, sand, and salty beach? I doubt if I could really taste the first two, na-da. So, our computer has been on for exactly 24 hours now. I still am not done downloading some Tree Hill torrents, I badly have to catch up. Anyone who wants to buy me a DVD? (Hello Elle!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;By the way, Meg's been asking me to make a new inspirational entry but I can't dig something out of my mind. I'm not feeling really melodramatic today, though "this person" and I have been talking about things and issues that really made me cry. To &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;sum up what I really feel, let me put it this way: &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;it's really hard when you know what makes/will make you happy but you can't do anything about it. It's almost there, right on the tip of my finger, only a step away.. BUT I STILL CAN'T HAVE IT. What the heck, what else am I supposed to do? I already gave everything I could. Now that's unfair, "this person" is unfair.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Before I cry, I must say this blog goodbye.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;One more thing.. Since I'm gaya gaya, I also decided that &lt;strike&gt;I will no longer drink&lt;/strike&gt; scratch that. I WILL DRINK A LITTLE LESS (haha) becaus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;e I really want to change. And I don't want to be a wild animal again, since that happens to me all the time. Idol ko talaga si Elle! Good night!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/SfsXsJK6hbI/AAAAAAAAAC4/hum6dQyfNVw/s1600-h/BLOGENDER.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 71px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/SfsXsJK6hbI/AAAAAAAAAC4/hum6dQyfNVw/s320/BLOGENDER.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330880631066494386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7334445485934254334-6163534148943665136?l=perfectloveguru.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/6163534148943665136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/6163534148943665136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2009/05/it-makes-me-sad-that-i-wasnt-able-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Sophia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-muxbdhYYXWM/TkjoTQ-oqzI/AAAAAAAAAHw/pDCEiM29X6E/s220/37991_149185071758332_100000005212687_472880_885921_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/SfsXsJK6hbI/AAAAAAAAAC4/hum6dQyfNVw/s72-c/BLOGENDER.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7334445485934254334.post-5376059863429577409</id><published>2009-04-28T17:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T17:34:40.524+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;My 500th and most labored blog entry is still under construction so most definitely, this one would be my last until I could post it. Since I have no one to resort to, I'll just blab all my random crazy thoughts here on Multiply. What's a blog for, anyway? Speaking of, if you're just gonna "make lait" and "make api" my blog entries, better not take time reading it. You know who you are and if you're gonna talk about this over the phone again, I'm so gonna kill you Mister Know-It-All! There's just this person who I really find so agitating because he brags all the time about how wonderful his first blog entry is. While mine just talks about how my day went and such. C'mon, why care so much?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Random Thought Number 1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I miss the oomph alcohol gives me. I haven't been drinking for a month now. Like, "whattttt?" An effortless seppuku right thar. I was planning to chug down the only bottle of vodka left on our fridge, but I'm sick, and will definitely pass on it. I miss Bords and our nights, really.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Random Thought Number 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Pia Derez is in desperate need of someone who will make her happy. By that, I don't necessarily mean a boy friend. HECK NO. I want a best boyfriend, or a hoax of an older brother, or someone who'll pull off the forgotten responsibilities of my "supposed to be number one guy in the world". For the record, it's none of them boys I have liked/loved/whatever. To give you peace, it's my father. So yeah. I've always looked for a father figure in every man I come across with; it's best explained by the emptiness I feel. Wow, how deep. As of this moment, all I really want is a GUY (with muscles, man boobs, Adams apple) to stand up for me, to fight with me, to kick the ass of the jerk who broke my heart. At the end of the day, despite all the bullying and kicking and punching, that guy will choose me over anyone else. I want to be his number one friend.. For now. Ain't it obvious who I'm talking about? Duh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Random Thought Number 3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And speaking of that "for now" effect up there.. I have come to decide that I'll wait until my academics are no longer on the rocks before I enter a serious relationship. There's this person (who happens to be very special) and he just made me realize how I should consider my priorities. There are just so many wonderful things in the world that I have blown over, primarily because of the thought of how amazing it is to love. Yes, it really is. It makes you smile, makes you happy, makes you feel like all the dreams you were having at night happens in real life. Also, it makes you think that all things have fallen into place. But really, no.. Not yet. Mom has always been right that I'm still young; I have so many more years to dwell on relationships, social life, and "fun". Love, it'll still come anytime during/after college. But every school year just happens once. I don't want to take Chemistry forever. And I just don't want to go to school for the sake of studying and getting allowance and seeing hot guys, I want to learn. I want to excel. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Random Thought Number 4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Count 100 luxury cars, after that 50 planes.. FLYING and the first person who will give me something yellow is I don't know. The one, the right one, the perfect one, per se. This is nonsense.. A bit contrary to my 3rd random thought. But since someone gave me an idea, I'll do this for fun!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Goodnight. Til my 500th blog. Love, Pi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&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/7334445485934254334-5376059863429577409?l=perfectloveguru.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/5376059863429577409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/5376059863429577409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2009/04/random-thoughts.html' title='Random thoughts'/><author><name>Sophia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-muxbdhYYXWM/TkjoTQ-oqzI/AAAAAAAAAHw/pDCEiM29X6E/s220/37991_149185071758332_100000005212687_472880_885921_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7334445485934254334.post-8498957970915777264</id><published>2009-04-17T20:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-17T20:34:35.047+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What's good about summer, eh?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I told myself, I can never be caught talking with my blatant seatmates. So out of boredom from my sucky Math class, I came up with the dis and advantages of failing. Wohow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I always thought summer at UST calls for celebration. First off, people made me believe that I’ll be surrounded by hot looking guys with average minds. Sa tagalog, mga gwapong bagsak. :)) But when I entered our school grounds, my hottie detector didn’t even make a “wang” sound. Well, except for The One. Pssh. I also had a misconception that I’ll have more savings since there are almost 30 days added on my mother’s budget. But my goodness, I never even had a taste of pleasure and happiness!! Mom only gives me money for my fare! I ended up paying for all my necessities – food, cheap thrill over the internet, suspense from L4D, and cellphone load. =| Now, I’m one step away from my average social life. =| What a perfect loser I could be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How could I forget the main reason why I no longer want to fail.. It’s because of the intemperate amount of heat summer has to offer. I’ll most prolly die ‘cause of DIEhydration. How come the sun never gets tired? Can it just cool down even for a while?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Contrary to that, summer classes still have a good side. I know.. I myself can’t believe it either.  Who would’ve have thought that I’ll find reasons to enjoy my 30-ish could-be-hell days. For three main reasons:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;• I gain new friends. And I get to expose myself to better opportunities. If you get what I mean, HAHAHA. Now I have tons of friends from Engineering and I have met UST’s best fag, Alma! – The persons who knows how to take the irritation away. HAHA.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;• Next is I have learned to appreciate the little things that didn’t matter to me before.. CHEAP THRILLS. =)) I no longer indulge myself with expensive food from school and I finally learned the art of saving! Every centavo counts, indeed. At least, I’d be able to buy that sexy dress from Zara. (Therese’s debut, alert!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;• Finally, the best reason to enjoy this season is by finding your true self. Yes, I was able to get to know myself deeper. What I really need, what I really feel, and what my heart truly wants. I was able to set higher standards for myself and finally came to a realization that I should never settle for less. Never knew that St. Raymund’s building could be a place for reflection, eh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Hence, I have made a declaration that I WILL CHANGE. It’s because I want a better version of myself to spring up – if not the best. No – I neither have intentions of pleasing everyone nor changing my personality for the guy I like. I just want to do this for myself, to make me happy, even just for once. Who knows, more people might like me and finally, The One will see the beauty in me (Ay ang cheesy!).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;After all, summer classes are not just about taking up (again) your academic failures. It’s about enjoying what this season has to offer and taking a leap from the crappy past to a brighter future.. School Year 2009-2010. :) It’s not just really learning the importance of every variable or every mathematical operation but also the art of looking for a better new you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Just enjoy – whether you’re at the beach, at theme parks, or at UST. Have a happy summer just like me! :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&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/7334445485934254334-8498957970915777264?l=perfectloveguru.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/8498957970915777264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/8498957970915777264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2009/04/whats-good-about-summer-eh.html' title='What&apos;s good about summer, eh?'/><author><name>Sophia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-muxbdhYYXWM/TkjoTQ-oqzI/AAAAAAAAAHw/pDCEiM29X6E/s220/37991_149185071758332_100000005212687_472880_885921_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7334445485934254334.post-1923711930128757926</id><published>2009-04-10T20:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T20:12:47.871+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Self-proclaimed saint</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Saint Pia of Santo Tomas (?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Minutes ago, I did a little bit of brainwork and I pondered over how my holy week was.. so far.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Palm Sunday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Being late is truly our nature. We missed almost 20 minutes of the mass. We had no choice but to stay since it's the last Eucharistic service in our vicinity. 6 PM MASS AT LATE PA KAMI! Took a bath around 5.30 kasi, haha! Indeed, a Filipino family. =))&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Holy Monday (God, I hope I got this right)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It's a holiday, my folks are home. PFT. Mom and I just bummed around and watched horror movies on Cinema One! BADUY KUNG BADUY. I was also able to watch my favorite loveteam, ToniSam (promdi ako oy!), You Got Me for the Nth time. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Holy Tuesday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Enrollment.. Well, supposedly. I have cursed almost everyone during this day. Uh, sorry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Holy Wednesday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Was enrolled.. FINALLY.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Maundy Thursday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;We were up early, should be off for the visita iglesia. Since we did not go to Bicol or somewhere else and I wasn't allowed to go to Antipolo, we just visited churches along our city and in Laguna. St. Peregrine &amp;amp; yung church ng Muntinlupa; Sto. Sepulcro, Sto. Rosario and yung church sa Binan and Sta. Rosa -- it's so nice to be back. Love, promdigerl.Then, we went to Tagaytay. Dropped at Lourdes &amp;amp; "meriendinner" at Bag Of Beans. I'll be posting my cute pictures once I get the mc from my Tita. ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Good Friday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I did a lot of reflection. HAHA. Seriously, ginawa kong retreat house ang banyo! Chill ako dun, tapos nagisip. Oh diba, now my head is clear of distractions and worries. You should try that, it's a bit hot in there though. I was able to watch ToniSam again, that made me happy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And I must update the Black Saturday and Easter episode tomorrow! Well, hopefully. I have internet restrictions, sorry. :)&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/7334445485934254334-1923711930128757926?l=perfectloveguru.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/1923711930128757926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/1923711930128757926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2009/04/self-proclaimed-saint.html' title='Self-proclaimed saint'/><author><name>Sophia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-muxbdhYYXWM/TkjoTQ-oqzI/AAAAAAAAAHw/pDCEiM29X6E/s220/37991_149185071758332_100000005212687_472880_885921_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7334445485934254334.post-8098448429622716325</id><published>2009-04-09T23:31:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T23:40:13.752+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh kamon!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I really am having a hard time managing accounts. Weeks ago, I deleted my Friendster. Just now, I find myself cancelling Plurk too. :D For two "nice" reasons:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1. My plurk shall be updated everyday for me not to I end up with zero karma. BUT I can no longer use our computer and I can never get my hands on my Mom's laptop. My last resort would be the computer shop. Most definitely, I won't do that on a daily basis because I was never a fan of boys shouting around me and the stinky smell I get from those crowded rooms. I also won't waste 15++ bucks just for cheap thrill over the internet. Oh kamon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;2. PLURK IS BORING, kamon face it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How come these networking sites ge&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;t boring day by day? Multiply's on the way. For the record, I only keep this for the sake of file storage and memories! Cheesy, haha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Thank God, Facebook was invented. Add me, ho.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#/profile.php?id=780711551&amp;amp;ref=name"&gt;CLICK!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/Sd4WuZGF9PI/AAAAAAAAACo/Gx-AKRuAy9g/s1600-h/BLOGENDER.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 71px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/Sd4WuZGF9PI/AAAAAAAAACo/Gx-AKRuAy9g/s320/BLOGENDER.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322716795864741106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&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/7334445485934254334-8098448429622716325?l=perfectloveguru.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/8098448429622716325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/8098448429622716325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2009/04/oh-kamon.html' title='Oh kamon!'/><author><name>Sophia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-muxbdhYYXWM/TkjoTQ-oqzI/AAAAAAAAAHw/pDCEiM29X6E/s220/37991_149185071758332_100000005212687_472880_885921_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/Sd4WuZGF9PI/AAAAAAAAACo/Gx-AKRuAy9g/s72-c/BLOGENDER.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7334445485934254334.post-7900499179062029964</id><published>2009-04-07T15:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T15:54:55.475+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Very familial :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Talking to my parents was never easy; but I made my way through it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I was given enough space for explanation and right extent for my atonement. I never pictured in my mind that Mom would sympathize. The thought of leaving UST made my blood run cold; I was scared. By happy chance, I will not be leaving, I will not shift. I AM GOING TO STAY and it's all because of their faith in me. I will no longer betroth; I will just do my best and strive to reach the top especially now that I was given another shot. I am forever grateful, really.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"I just thought that, the best thing that you can do is to learn from those mistakes.  Sometimes, you have to experience failures just to learn what is right.  How I wish you don’t have to learn it the hardest way.  But, I just would like to consider it as a reality of life. I’m really hoping that you’ll try harder this time." - Mom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Not to forget my dad, definitely. Our first conversation never really turned out great; his mediocre statement even made me weaker and pushed me to my limits. "Iistorbohin mo ako dahil dyan? Magpapahinga na ako" *yeowch* But, it turns out that he has something nice to say too. I despise myself for having doubts if he truly loves me.. I should have never faltered my father's love. Because I know he does, he truly does.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"I'm not mad but I want you to strive more. You got to learn your lesson from it and try harder if you want to fulfill your dreams." - Dad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Family quarrels have a total asperity unmatched by others. Yet it sometimes happens that they also have a kind of twang. A pleasantness beneath the unpleasantness, a sweetness behind the bitterness. I have a tacit understanding that this is not for keeps; that any limb I climb out on will still be there later for me to climb back. When all is said and done, I still return to my family, the one where I belong veritably. Despite the problems that have passed, I am glad that they stayed with me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Oh God, I love my family. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&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/7334445485934254334-7900499179062029964?l=perfectloveguru.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/7900499179062029964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/7900499179062029964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2009/04/very-familial.html' title='Very familial :)'/><author><name>Sophia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-muxbdhYYXWM/TkjoTQ-oqzI/AAAAAAAAAHw/pDCEiM29X6E/s220/37991_149185071758332_100000005212687_472880_885921_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7334445485934254334.post-1058966890126875320</id><published>2009-04-01T22:21:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T22:24:05.480+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy April Fools!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I never had the chance to play high jinks on my friends today. But if you'd consider my "Maglalayas Attempt" a caper.. I can say, at least I had one. While on the subject, I figured that I must impart a summary respecting that matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't able to sleep soundly.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; 10.38, I called Eunice and did spit the problem out.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; Around 12, I kissed my mother goodnight.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; 1-2 AM, I was still online trying to make a de rigueur journal entry.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; 2.30-ish, went to my room.. Stared at the silhouette of the sky with the hopes of finding the right words to divulge what  I truly feel. Apparently, the answers weren't written under the stars.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; Almost 3.15, I made a draft of my letter but wasn't successful. Seems like the words are having a chaos on my head.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; 4 in the morning, I found myself staring at my Mother.. Wondering what she might feel the moment she finds out that I  didn't go home. That I decided to go to my fly-by-night father. That it's not her whom I first ran into.&lt;br /&gt;I came up with the best inference: Mom would get hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; 5AM, I tried calling my best friend. Unfortunately, I didn't get any answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I decided to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I failed to remember that I have to go to school the next day. Good thing my Loving Mother woke me up (it's just to give me allowance for the day).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was dressing up, I caught myself stuck in between two choices. Still being uncertain, I packed up clothes (just in case) for my summer getaway. But here's the funny thing, I ONLY PACKED CLOTHES FOR ONE NIGHT! That means, I really have to go home right away. HAHAHA. *Anong klaseng paglalayas ito?* Plus! I'd just go to my father's house and even planned telling my whereabouts to Mom. In the end I realized, what's the point of all this running away lunacy? When everyone else knows where I'll be going. HAHA. Another zany idea right tharr :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously, I dint do it. That's the Happy April Fool's part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being truly clever, I came up with the best idea to break it to Mom. Go to her office (the place where no one can ever hurt me!) and bring a trusty companion (in that case, she won't be able to say bad things). I invited Eunice to tag along -- for the record, it was an all expense paid trip plus dinner. *Kawawa ako* But then, it became more powerhouse because of her support. I LOVE YOU EUNICE REPONTE! Yeah, as if you have a Multiply to view this but whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I somehow considered our conversation a bed of roses for two reasons:&lt;br /&gt;1. Mom was able to understand me because of Eunice's "mahirap po talaga Chem" dialogues.&lt;br /&gt;2. Mom allowed me to shift because.. Ah, she just wanted me to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just hope the post conversation will turn out great. Help me, God.&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/7334445485934254334-1058966890126875320?l=perfectloveguru.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/1058966890126875320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/1058966890126875320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2009/04/happy-april-fools.html' title='Happy April Fools!'/><author><name>Sophia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-muxbdhYYXWM/TkjoTQ-oqzI/AAAAAAAAAHw/pDCEiM29X6E/s220/37991_149185071758332_100000005212687_472880_885921_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7334445485934254334.post-8104451001611479986</id><published>2009-04-01T01:35:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T01:40:57.540+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello Blogspot</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What? I have no time to update. Duh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;28- Family Day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;29- My folks are home so I can't use the "family" computer. Loser laptop's with my Mom *sniff*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;30- MY PARENTS DINT GO TO WORK. How awesome was that? Ohsht.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Anyway, I have a posted blog entry on Multiply so there's no more a need to put it here. Two journal accounts could really be so tiring.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;But to give you a taste of what I'll be doing..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;MAGLALAYAS AKO TOMORROW. That's my craziest idea by farrrrrr!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Wish me luck! ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/SdJVOW2zZSI/AAAAAAAAACQ/WbFT8n5XzHI/s1600-h/BLOGENDER.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 71px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/SdJVOW2zZSI/AAAAAAAAACQ/WbFT8n5XzHI/s320/BLOGENDER.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319407815019947298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&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/7334445485934254334-8104451001611479986?l=perfectloveguru.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/8104451001611479986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/8104451001611479986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2009/04/hello-blogspot.html' title='Hello Blogspot'/><author><name>Sophia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-muxbdhYYXWM/TkjoTQ-oqzI/AAAAAAAAAHw/pDCEiM29X6E/s220/37991_149185071758332_100000005212687_472880_885921_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/SdJVOW2zZSI/AAAAAAAAACQ/WbFT8n5XzHI/s72-c/BLOGENDER.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7334445485934254334.post-2897485968469552227</id><published>2009-03-26T23:21:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T23:23:44.528+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tale of a desperaux</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Today's a LOT for me. And when I say a lot, I mean it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I was up until 3AM failing to remember that I have to wake up early for the day. Thank God, I told my lolo about my appointment and my alarm's set to 8AM. Still not feeling good, I decided to sleep again. I got up around 10 and took a bath, prontohhh! Had lunch and left our house.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Guess what?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I had a shoot today. :) It's a part of my test shots. Since I am a model wannabe and really headstrong about it, I convinced Mom to support me on this. Courtesy of our very nice neighbors, Kuya Rixon and Cherry Molera, the shoot has been put into life. There are 4 parts of the shoot -- the first one was conducted at their house and the remaining three at a studio across our village. It was definitely low profile. Duh, we're just starting over. This weekend, if I won't be attending my cousin's graduation at AA, I might have another concept shoot. You wouldn't believe who would do the shots for me -- mom! Tadaaaa! We're still not sure since our camera's only a powershot, low tech. :|&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What I'm really excited for is the shoot with Pia (another Pia, definitely) at UST or RedImages. But I'd prolly end up at UST 'cos I want no more of studio pictures. Another fun thing to do. April First, see you. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;By the way, this isn't a new leap in my life. I am not YET a full pledged model. Taking one step at a time. :) And as a matter of fact, the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;pictures are for my birthday. More of a gift for myself. How wicked, right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Okay. I have to sleep early because I'd still get the pictures from Kuya R tomorrow. Goodnight.!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/Scud3dGghaI/AAAAAAAAACI/IeeJ3LTSo7k/s1600-h/BLOGENDER.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 71px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/Scud3dGghaI/AAAAAAAAACI/IeeJ3LTSo7k/s320/BLOGENDER.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317517361071293858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7334445485934254334-2897485968469552227?l=perfectloveguru.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/feeds/2897485968469552227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2009/03/tale-of-desperaux.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/2897485968469552227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/2897485968469552227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2009/03/tale-of-desperaux.html' title='Tale of a desperaux'/><author><name>Sophia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-muxbdhYYXWM/TkjoTQ-oqzI/AAAAAAAAAHw/pDCEiM29X6E/s220/37991_149185071758332_100000005212687_472880_885921_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/Scud3dGghaI/AAAAAAAAACI/IeeJ3LTSo7k/s72-c/BLOGENDER.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7334445485934254334.post-5170208378270652247</id><published>2009-03-25T15:25:00.007+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T18:54:49.067+08:00</updated><title type='text'>When and how will you die?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I am bored as hell, I just decided to answer these stupid quizzes from Facebook. I should be playing PetSociety but it seems like it'll take me forever until I could enter their world. Jaja took this "When Will You Die" quiz. Being gayagaya, I took the quiz as well. And guess what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/ScneXo1g-CI/AAAAAAAAAB4/4ru6LAW-j6E/s1600-h/WOW.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/ScneXo1g-CI/AAAAAAAAAB4/4ru6LAW-j6E/s320/WOW.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317025332767815714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I have 66 more years to do what I want to do. Like to bunjee jump (whatever the spelling is), to be able to hold a body organ (bare hands!!), to earn millions of moolah, to fly a plane, kick someone's ____ (they say it feels so good), and to find my long lost prince. How cheesy did I sound with the last part? I know, ew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taking the quiz made me wonder how will I die? Better yet, how do I want to die?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you all know, I'm a masochist. I gain pleasure from getting hurt. For that matter, I can say I am more of a martyr. BUT despite the fact that I enjoy pain, I still want my death to be easy. Something that I won't suffer for. It's like "patay kung patay". We have a history of heart attack, diabetes, and cancer. I wonder, will I die because of these diseases? If I could ask one wish from God, it's to skip the torture part - I can tolerate it no more. Therefore, my ideal death would be being shot by a gun on my heart (Wow, ang emo). My heart have suffered enough, I believe it'll be able to bear physical pain as well (Ang emo ulit). Kidding aside, that's what I really want. As in pag nabaril, patay talaga. So I won't be able to feel the pain anymore. What's the point of making my last days on earth a living hell if in the end, I'll go to heaven? I think I made sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For my burial, I'm thinking between the normal rites or the cremation type. Still haven't made my decision. At least there's a topic for my next blog. Bye! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/ScoMJrDjiMI/AAAAAAAAACA/EkGUVakc_m0/s1600-h/BLOGENDER.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 71px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/ScoMJrDjiMI/AAAAAAAAACA/EkGUVakc_m0/s320/BLOGENDER.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317075670380284098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7334445485934254334-5170208378270652247?l=perfectloveguru.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/feeds/5170208378270652247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2009/03/when-and-how-will-you-die.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/5170208378270652247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/5170208378270652247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2009/03/when-and-how-will-you-die.html' title='When and how will you die?'/><author><name>Sophia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-muxbdhYYXWM/TkjoTQ-oqzI/AAAAAAAAAHw/pDCEiM29X6E/s220/37991_149185071758332_100000005212687_472880_885921_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/ScneXo1g-CI/AAAAAAAAAB4/4ru6LAW-j6E/s72-c/WOW.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7334445485934254334.post-4752389910040823665</id><published>2009-03-24T22:20:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T22:24:25.610+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I live in Broke Mountain</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Here's to the best stalker. I tracked the new journal of my classmate slash "friend". Kudowwws! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this day's pretty much of a bummer. Got up around 2PM 'cos I was talking to my friend last night (or morning in my case) until 3AM. First thing I did is to take a bath - who would've thought? Hygiene &amp;amp; I knows how to work it this time. And besides, I'm on my way to that heatstroke part. I played Sims since L4D's messed up until this weekend. Out with the old, in with the new. Knowing me? I have to be up to date with these things, pronto! Since Sims bores me out already, I just decided to fix my Blogspot layout and turn it into a wild animal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been onli&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;ne for 8 hours now.. I made edits, how productive. I need to do something worth doing (?) this summer. Like dance lessons or acting workshops. Maybe I should just get a job. Hello.. I need money. $$$$$$&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thought of bankruptcy disturbs me. I need to grieve, so  goodnight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/ScjtD7CZIuI/AAAAAAAAABw/pfZ_ipzASQI/s1600-h/BLOGENDER.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 71px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/ScjtD7CZIuI/AAAAAAAAABw/pfZ_ipzASQI/s320/BLOGENDER.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316760011753988834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&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/7334445485934254334-4752389910040823665?l=perfectloveguru.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/feeds/4752389910040823665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-live-in-broke-mountain.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/4752389910040823665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/4752389910040823665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-live-in-broke-mountain.html' title='I live in Broke Mountain'/><author><name>Sophia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-muxbdhYYXWM/TkjoTQ-oqzI/AAAAAAAAAHw/pDCEiM29X6E/s220/37991_149185071758332_100000005212687_472880_885921_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/ScjtD7CZIuI/AAAAAAAAABw/pfZ_ipzASQI/s72-c/BLOGENDER.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7334445485934254334.post-575908869917471590</id><published>2009-03-24T18:36:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T18:37:51.278+08:00</updated><title type='text'>State of real happiness</title><content type='html'>&lt;div id="item_body" class="bodytext" author="piatoot" author_possessive="piatoot's"&gt;    &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Life is a learning process. In this process, we learn how to care, to love, to give more than what we can, to get hurt, to be unselfish and to sacrifice. We learn that regardless of the good things we have done, some of it are just not enough. We may have given what other people need (and want), but we can't latch on to what we ought to get hold of. The thought of it convinced me that in a way, this process is unfair; that life is unfair; and that God is unfair. Then suddenly, a lightning hit me and I realized I was wrong. No matter how many times we stumble and fall, we should neither put God to question nor lay our downfalls into other people's doors. Whatever those failures are, no matter how big or small.. Are not under anybody's responsibility. We are the only one under obligation with whatever that has turned out of our life. We have misfortunes, we have imperfections but it's never really unfair. 8 or 9 billion people in this world, just like me, thinks/thought that life is/was not just. But just a thought, God can never make our lives perfect, He can never give us what we want becau&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;se if we have all we've ever asked for, we won't experience the pain of not having it. Then, we won't ever learn. It's not more of being unjust, it's more of being fair to everyone else by giving us a chance to learn and a space to get better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;In our life, we smash into different kinds of people. People that'll give us snickers, joy, happiness and sometimes unlucky -- we deal with people who will give us miseries. Each and everyone has a purpose. Some brings us pain for us to fall, to get hurt, to cry and be lonely. Regardless of the bad things it can cause us, pain still has a good purpose deep down within. It helps us to smoke out virtues, gives us a chance to get to know ourselves more and makes us strong until we master the art of letting go. But in the face of all troubles, there are still people who will keep on putting smile to our faces, who will keep on lighting up our days, and people who will do their best to let the sun shine after the rain. They are God's tools of letting us find the key to happiness. It comes in many forms - in t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;he feeling you get when you get high grades in your quizzes, when you look so good getting all dolled up, when you've found a way of earning $$$, when you get to have someone else's iTouch for a day, when you drink Taro Ice; in the promise of hope renewed, and in the company of good friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; It's never true that life ends where heartaches begin. Though &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;we may have lost important things or people in our lives, something or someone so much better will be brought upon our hands. Yes, p&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;ain have become a huge part of our lives. We expect it to always be there because we can hardly remember a time in our life when it wasn't. But then one day, despite all the wounds and despite being broken, we will feel something&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; else. Something that feels wrong but really is right. Something that is unexpected, unfamiliar, unusual. We realize we're back on track, we're whole again, we're flying high and feels like walking on air, amidst all the imperfections we find no reason to complain, we can laugh like we never even cried, we feel thrilled plus sunny plus sparkling and at this point, we feel contentment. We knew that feeling, it was just taken away. But then, at that certain moment, we would look at ourselves and smile realizing we're happy. We're really happy :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/Sci3228FzLI/AAAAAAAAAA4/kaYKIQASLRE/s1600-h/BLOGENDER.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 71px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/Sci3228FzLI/AAAAAAAAAA4/kaYKIQASLRE/s320/BLOGENDER.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316701513199242418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7334445485934254334-575908869917471590?l=perfectloveguru.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/feeds/575908869917471590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2009/03/state-of-real-happiness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/575908869917471590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/575908869917471590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2009/03/state-of-real-happiness.html' title='State of real happiness'/><author><name>Sophia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-muxbdhYYXWM/TkjoTQ-oqzI/AAAAAAAAAHw/pDCEiM29X6E/s220/37991_149185071758332_100000005212687_472880_885921_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/Sci3228FzLI/AAAAAAAAAA4/kaYKIQASLRE/s72-c/BLOGENDER.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7334445485934254334.post-6217404741605889349</id><published>2009-03-23T21:10:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T19:00:22.237+08:00</updated><title type='text'>First of summer</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I should be off to UST to fix my Math101 dilemmas. But then, I realized I'd be wasting a lot of money if my proffesor's not there anyway. INANG NOBLE NYAN, NAGING TEACHER PA. Mom didn't give me money last Saturday so it was an all expense paid trip to UST by me!!! I hate the feeling. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Parang tinapon ko yung 350, dapat nanay ko nagtatapon nun eh&lt;/span&gt;. Feeling Japanese so we had Tokyo Tokyo for lunch. Right now, I am suffering from LBM, blame the Pork Tonkatsu. I had a PR marathon and just watched movies on my iPod all day. P.S. I love you was great, it's the shit. In fairness, though I hate KC Concepcion, I watched FOR THE FIRST TIME. I fell asleep on our couch only to realize three hours later that I haven't taken a bath yet. So obviously, I took a bath. Duh&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;My first day wasn't really that "fun" as how I expect it. There are still more summer days to come anyway.&lt;br /&gt;Hello, summer. Here I come to conquerrrrrr! ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/ScjK0aNXbYI/AAAAAAAAABA/bYDrG4pag5Y/s1600-h/BLOGENDER.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 71px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/ScjK0aNXbYI/AAAAAAAAABA/bYDrG4pag5Y/s320/BLOGENDER.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316722361848262018" 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/7334445485934254334-6217404741605889349?l=perfectloveguru.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/6217404741605889349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/6217404741605889349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2009/03/first-of-summer.html' title='First of summer'/><author><name>Sophia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-muxbdhYYXWM/TkjoTQ-oqzI/AAAAAAAAAHw/pDCEiM29X6E/s220/37991_149185071758332_100000005212687_472880_885921_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/ScjK0aNXbYI/AAAAAAAAABA/bYDrG4pag5Y/s72-c/BLOGENDER.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7334445485934254334.post-314077180889623844</id><published>2009-03-18T20:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T20:03:49.970+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am just really, really scared</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What if I'd fail again? I always thought Chemistry would be easy and enjoyable for me. If we could just perform experiments and analyze solutions WITHOUT MATHEMATICS.  To tell you honestly, I screwed our finals.. BIGTIME. Mom said that if I'd fail another subject be it the easiest or the toughest one, she'd force me to stop studying. Yeah, as if she have the guts to that. HAHA. But honestly, I still don't want to disappoint her. Being the only heiress? No way! I tried my best, hope my efforts will lead me to something better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still trying. TWO MAJORS TOMORROW! What an emotional blog. &lt;img src="http://images.multiply.com/common/smiles/cry.png" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/ScjL93SeYJI/AAAAAAAAABI/2VwX6pwWoIw/s1600-h/BLOGENDER.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 71px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/ScjL93SeYJI/AAAAAAAAABI/2VwX6pwWoIw/s320/BLOGENDER.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316723623784767634" 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/7334445485934254334-314077180889623844?l=perfectloveguru.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/314077180889623844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/314077180889623844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-am-just-really-really-scared.html' title='I am just really, really scared'/><author><name>Sophia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-muxbdhYYXWM/TkjoTQ-oqzI/AAAAAAAAAHw/pDCEiM29X6E/s220/37991_149185071758332_100000005212687_472880_885921_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/ScjL93SeYJI/AAAAAAAAABI/2VwX6pwWoIw/s72-c/BLOGENDER.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7334445485934254334.post-6730763010232417394</id><published>2009-03-13T21:27:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T20:08:31.471+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day two of Lois Lane's adventures</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Lois woke up early &amp;amp; went to school with the hopes of seeing this Superperson again. Instead of running into her new inspiration, a familiar body built unexpectedly flashed right before her eyes.. Ahh, let's now welcome THE HULK + MISTER INCREDIBLE + SUPER B. She pretended not to notice but was actually almost dying 'cos the butterflies in her stomach are moving in a rapid motion. In the spur of the moment, the big guy uttered the opening remarks of the conversation.. "Sinong hinihintay mo?" And there began a pillow talk. Lois wasn't really a fan of little chats, she's more of a night long phone call type. In her mind, she knows she had to cut it.. ASAP.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Everything was doing great&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/ScjNMNFDS4I/AAAAAAAAABY/Z1CkkSo7YGc/s1600-h/BLOGENDER.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 71px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/ScjNMNFDS4I/AAAAAAAAABY/Z1CkkSo7YGc/s320/BLOGENDER.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316724969663843202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; until Miss Lane did something wrong, &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;what a dope.&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/7334445485934254334-6730763010232417394?l=perfectloveguru.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/6730763010232417394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/6730763010232417394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2009/03/day-two-of-lois-lanes-adventures.html' title='Day two of Lois Lane&apos;s adventures'/><author><name>Sophia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-muxbdhYYXWM/TkjoTQ-oqzI/AAAAAAAAAHw/pDCEiM29X6E/s220/37991_149185071758332_100000005212687_472880_885921_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/ScjNMNFDS4I/AAAAAAAAABY/Z1CkkSo7YGc/s72-c/BLOGENDER.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7334445485934254334.post-8954279317843509701</id><published>2009-03-12T20:41:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T20:07:27.651+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Isn't it amazing how our mind works?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;One random Thursday morning, Lois Lane was standing in front of the main building when suddenly, a walloping amount of light spakled. There standing, a superhero in his not so eye catching outfit (College of Science uniform, that is). She told herself, &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"&gt;"BEHOLD.. I HAVE FOUND MY NEW INSPIRATION." &lt;/span&gt;In the middle of watching him shine, a supermassive black hole called Main Building summoned him. For a fact, she didn't followed that superperson; she just watched how that stupid hole take all her dreams away. Luckily, she bumped into her first UST friend and saw him talking to her new found Spiderman. She asked that friend which land is he from -- ahh, Biolandia. She wondered, "How come I always get mousetrapped to these future Biologists?" (If you know her story, you'd definitely get it). When it was about to reach the "climax", her POTBELLIED companion reminded that they must go back to Chemlandia already. She had to say goodb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;ye; in her last few words she said..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Until I see you again.. My kryptonite&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/ScjM2jcz89I/AAAAAAAAABQ/gT07OqXPjrE/s1600-h/BLOGENDER.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 71px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/ScjM2jcz89I/AAAAAAAAABQ/gT07OqXPjrE/s320/BLOGENDER.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316724597711958994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7334445485934254334-8954279317843509701?l=perfectloveguru.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/8954279317843509701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7334445485934254334/posts/default/8954279317843509701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectloveguru.blogspot.com/2009/03/isnt-it-amazing-how-our-mind-works.html' title='Isn&apos;t it amazing how our mind works?'/><author><name>Sophia</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-muxbdhYYXWM/TkjoTQ-oqzI/AAAAAAAAAHw/pDCEiM29X6E/s220/37991_149185071758332_100000005212687_472880_885921_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5_wDQg1Hirg/ScjM2jcz89I/AAAAAAAAABQ/gT07OqXPjrE/s72-c/BLOGENDER.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry></feed>
