<?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-3195626745841407057</id><updated>2012-01-31T00:42:27.559+08:00</updated><category term='emo'/><title type='text'>Everyone has a story</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suemefordreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3195626745841407057/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suemefordreaming.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Phat Culture</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OdwexUk3XTQ/ScyVOPhEWII/AAAAAAAAAgU/lYNaCcOS2E0/S220/buttonxa7.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>4</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3195626745841407057.post-5778363293355315651</id><published>2010-02-11T03:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-30T23:27:37.828+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>There are some things&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3195626745841407057-5778363293355315651?l=suemefordreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suemefordreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/5778363293355315651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://suemefordreaming.blogspot.com/2010/02/there-are-some-things.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3195626745841407057/posts/default/5778363293355315651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3195626745841407057/posts/default/5778363293355315651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suemefordreaming.blogspot.com/2010/02/there-are-some-things.html' title=''/><author><name>Phat Culture</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OdwexUk3XTQ/ScyVOPhEWII/AAAAAAAAAgU/lYNaCcOS2E0/S220/buttonxa7.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3195626745841407057.post-8362910011002949457</id><published>2009-12-13T01:12:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-30T23:27:37.840+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='emo'/><title type='text'>You Make My Dreams Come True</title><content type='html'>It was that night - not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;too &lt;/span&gt;long ago, but yet feels like an entire lifetime away, that I finally truly believed that could &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;someday&lt;/span&gt; find love. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always been stupidly settling for 'second best' ... what I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;thought&lt;/span&gt; could grow to become love. People whom I cared for, but didn't make my heart flutter.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not talking about your usual butterflies-in-your-tummy ...&lt;br /&gt;I'm speaking of the burst of hope that flutters in your tummy and makes your whole body tingle. When you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;know&lt;/span&gt; in that moment, that you're in love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always been searching for it ... but in all my quests, I never found it. :( As time flew by, I began to think that maybe ... maybe it just wasn't for me. Maybe what I felt with all these guys were IT ... I just didn't see it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... all it took was one person to make me believe that I could find love. Someday. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Hey, the world is ending!"&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;he joked. "What would be the perfect way to spend your final days?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Getting to know you,' I almost blurted out. Almost.&lt;br /&gt;My breathe caught in my throat and I thought 'okay ... thank God I didn't say that'. I stole a glance at him and I thought 'his eyes are smiling ... I'm not swooning over them or anything, but wow. He is happy, inside out. He is beautiful, inside and out.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this person's eyes, soul and engaging spirit ...&lt;br /&gt;I knew there and then that I was capable of love. :p Unlike what I've always thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It was in your dark eyes that I found my ability to laugh at every nonsensical again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to go into details, but no, there is no happy ending here. (story of my life, har har)&lt;br /&gt;I'm just &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;very&lt;/span&gt; happy and I feel &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;very&lt;/span&gt; blessed to have an experience as precious as this. :) I'm so glad it wasn't sexual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I wouldn't want to keep in close contact with you ... because you'll always be 'too perfect' to me. You'd be the epitome of the 'happy ending' I never had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, I'm happy to have met you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someday I'll get over this ... it's become strangely repetitive for me, how I manage to 'jump' out of things and heal pretty fast,&lt;br /&gt;but you know ... just know that once upon a time, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you made my dreams come true&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;img src="http://www.xanga.com/images/pleased.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tgVNgYXFi_Q&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tgVNgYXFi_Q&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3195626745841407057-8362910011002949457?l=suemefordreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suemefordreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/8362910011002949457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://suemefordreaming.blogspot.com/2009/12/you-make-my-dreams-come-true.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3195626745841407057/posts/default/8362910011002949457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3195626745841407057/posts/default/8362910011002949457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suemefordreaming.blogspot.com/2009/12/you-make-my-dreams-come-true.html' title='You Make My Dreams Come True'/><author><name>Phat Culture</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OdwexUk3XTQ/ScyVOPhEWII/AAAAAAAAAgU/lYNaCcOS2E0/S220/buttonxa7.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3195626745841407057.post-3476428188746119661</id><published>2009-12-10T00:35:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-30T23:27:37.818+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;I believe that there are many defining moments in life that shake us so hard, we're involuntarily (or voluntarily?) &lt;i&gt;shaped&lt;/i&gt; by these moments. These moments stun us into a resigned submission of Fate, or alternatively, push us to rebel, survive and strive to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that I have had many such moments in my life. I barely think about them anymore, though a conversation with May led me to think about them again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One such moment was when I was in Form 1, during a carnival that my school held.&lt;br /&gt;Let me digress a lil'. When I was 13, I had no self-confidence, and my self-esteem was bare ... I'd hardly spoken to a boy before, and though I rarely thought about it, I *knew* I was quite bad-looking. You'd think that it wouldn't matter at such a young age ... but trust me, high school was a time when if people thought you were a freak, they'd find a way to let you know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, digression over. The school carnival. Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My high school was an all-girls school (No, not many of us has had a lesbian experience) and the carnival was a fund-raiser, or so I recall ...&lt;br /&gt;our school hall was transformed into a 'disco' - a fact I wasn't aware of. All my friends wanted to go in, and I &lt;i&gt;really&lt;/i&gt; didn't want to ... partially because I was dressed in our school's baggy sports tee and horrendous blue track pants, and also 'cause the idea was very scary, foreign and nauseating for someone like me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we went in anyway,&lt;br /&gt;and to the 13-year-old me, I felt like I was a lost wanderer in space who'd just landed on some unknown planet with freaky creatures that were swaying really close to each other. There were girls dancing on the stage, and a really popular girl from another class was dancing in between two guys from La Salle, the all-boys school that was our supposed "brother" school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It felt really weird to see all these random boys come up to my friends and ask them to dance (though they probably don't remember this by now, haha) ... and all this, I observed from the back of the hall, as I nervously clutched my bag with wide eyes. I remember feeling very lost, and I remember thinking '&lt;i&gt;someone like me REALLY doesn't belong here&lt;/i&gt;' ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the years, my friends grew prettier, and the number of boys that tried to court them grew (with some trying to get to know them through befriending me, wtf), I was still chubby, reserved and I could barely talk to a guy without stammering. I had the most God-awful hair ever, and I remember walking past a bunch of 'cool' girls, who laughed and sneered at me, hissing '&lt;i&gt;grow up, girl&lt;/i&gt;' into my ear as I walked past them. :/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3195626745841407057-3476428188746119661?l=suemefordreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suemefordreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/3476428188746119661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://suemefordreaming.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-believe-that-there-are-many-defining.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3195626745841407057/posts/default/3476428188746119661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3195626745841407057/posts/default/3476428188746119661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suemefordreaming.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-believe-that-there-are-many-defining.html' title=''/><author><name>Phat Culture</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OdwexUk3XTQ/ScyVOPhEWII/AAAAAAAAAgU/lYNaCcOS2E0/S220/buttonxa7.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3195626745841407057.post-2447763701002367409</id><published>2009-10-27T01:02:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-30T23:27:37.815+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Timing, Fate and Chance</title><content type='html'>I've been thinking about timing, fate and chance a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A conversation with Veen made me remember a lot of things ...&lt;br /&gt;and in turn, realized how sad I've been, as much as I've been trying to deny it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know,&lt;br /&gt;I believe that sometimes in life ... you get just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; chance with a particular person. A second chance is rare, and almost never happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A long time ago, he and I took a late-night drive out to town together. In the car, we talked about many things.&lt;br /&gt;Life.&lt;br /&gt;Love.&lt;br /&gt;Money ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked him about his decision to work overseas ... asides from obvious monetary reasons. Why leave? Isn't he happy here?&lt;br /&gt;And he looked at me and said 'I have no reasons to stay here. Nobody to stay for.', his eyes probing into mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to tell him to stay for me. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I couldn't ...&lt;br /&gt;how could I?&lt;br /&gt;Whether or not it was important to him ... I was young, I was broke, and I was unemployed. Maybe it couldn't matter less to him or the world ... but it mattered to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I've realized that maybe ...  just maybe - that night was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;it&lt;/span&gt;. That night was my "chance".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I'm older, more mature (... a bit), with a business and all that jazz ... I've already missed my chance. I can't turn back time. We're beyond that now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid, stupid, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;stupid&lt;/span&gt; me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3195626745841407057-2447763701002367409?l=suemefordreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suemefordreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/2447763701002367409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://suemefordreaming.blogspot.com/2009/10/timing-fate-and-chance.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3195626745841407057/posts/default/2447763701002367409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3195626745841407057/posts/default/2447763701002367409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suemefordreaming.blogspot.com/2009/10/timing-fate-and-chance.html' title='Timing, Fate and Chance'/><author><name>Phat Culture</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OdwexUk3XTQ/ScyVOPhEWII/AAAAAAAAAgU/lYNaCcOS2E0/S220/buttonxa7.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
