<?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-6627957</id><updated>2011-07-31T10:40:26.207+08:00</updated><category term='i&apos;m back(:'/><category term='AHHHH'/><category term='questionnaires'/><category term='jokes'/><category term='-'/><category term='birthday'/><category term='relationship'/><category term='it ends here.'/><category term='photographs'/><category term='random'/><category term='holiday'/><category term='rants'/><category term='events'/><category term='happy'/><category term='school'/><category term='dedications'/><category term='fashion'/><category term='lyrics'/><category term='band'/><category term='xmas'/><category term='memories'/><category term='reads'/><category term='*'/><category term='food'/><category term='dental'/><category term='baking'/><category term='percussion'/><category term='thoughts'/><category term='lester'/><category term=':('/><category term='video'/><category term='=('/><category term='quotes'/><category term='BORED'/><category term='sister'/><title type='text'>Memoriesque.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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>900</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627957.post-4552828233749503905</id><published>2010-05-08T21:21:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-08T21:22:53.717+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://memoriesque.tumblr.com"&gt;Shifted back to Tumblr.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I know, please don't beat me up for redirecting my blog readers everywhere :'( It's just that I can blog using my iPhone if I shift back to Tumblr! So see you there, I'm going to update it now :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-4552828233749503905?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/4552828233749503905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/4552828233749503905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_05_01_archive.html#4552828233749503905' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-7308993631416622493</id><published>2010-04-11T15:18:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-11T15:22:25.476+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This seems so unreal, just like how it felt the other time as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I always tell people to believe that they deserve all the good things that happen to them, but I can't say that I believe that myself, because I always doubt the reason why good things will happen to me. Because somehow they always slip away and disappear, and after awhile when you realise that that becomes a routine, you stop believing completely.&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/6627957-7308993631416622493?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7308993631416622493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7308993631416622493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_04_01_archive.html#7308993631416622493' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-6182589877995583431</id><published>2010-04-04T22:52:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-04T22:59:57.845+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I really don't know why, but despite the years of distance, you still remain such a special person to me. Even if we weren't that close to begin with, I don't think I'll ever forget the times when I first met you and got to know you. Because if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been in band and I wouldn't love music the way I do now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And despite the fact that I've been playing percussion for so many years, the oboe somehow is and probably always will be my favourite instrument because of you. And every time I meet you again, I always feel like I need to be better than what I am now.. It's like as if I'm always looking for a place in your life, even if I don't know why. And I really don't know why.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-6182589877995583431?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/6182589877995583431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/6182589877995583431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_04_01_archive.html#6182589877995583431' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-295718055651229946</id><published>2010-03-24T02:29:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T02:38:53.718+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I think what confines our creativity is how we limit ourselves to certain boundaries that we come up with. Boundaries that aren't even supposed to be there, because who can put boundaries in art? I think after we started learning these 'rules' about design, we started confining ourselves and our ideas, because we judge them even before we put them on paper. Some people break the rules well after learning them, but I think I prefer to just forget the rules because I can't seem to find out where my creativity went to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just like how a child can colour a sun blue, and the skies pink, I think it's creativity when you don't have any boundaries, when your imagination is wild and free, when no one stops you to tell you that the sun is supposed to be yellow and the skies are supposed to be blue. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway... I think skies do look prettier in pink :/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-295718055651229946?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/295718055651229946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/295718055651229946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_03_01_archive.html#295718055651229946' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-3460502060944793790</id><published>2010-03-19T15:45:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T15:58:50.436+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/tumblr_kz8b18fOO51qzle2jo1_500.jpg"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-3460502060944793790?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3460502060944793790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3460502060944793790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_03_01_archive.html#3460502060944793790' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-9026644695563826772</id><published>2010-03-19T02:44:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T03:01:27.097+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sometimes I wonder if I always automatically convert all my negative emotions into anger cos it's just easier to handle and accept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;disappointment ---&gt; anger&lt;br /&gt;sadness ---&gt; anger&lt;br /&gt;jealousy ---&gt; anger&lt;br /&gt;heartbroken ---&gt; anger&lt;br /&gt;fear ---&gt; anger&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/6627957-9026644695563826772?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/9026644695563826772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/9026644695563826772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_03_01_archive.html#9026644695563826772' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-4070916908296287339</id><published>2010-03-16T16:03:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-17T22:04:58.843+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm sure you're looking for another entry here, so here it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two important things that you just DON'T get.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1, I DON'T REALLY CARE who likes you, what kind of girls they are, how pretty, how nice, how rich blah blah blah blah. I'm sorry I had to type the first sentence in caps cos apparently I've told you this before but you don't seem to get it. If you can even mention this, it just shows that you are bothered, perhaps slightly, by the fact that you had to give these awesome potential girlfriends up just because of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If apparently you think that they treat you nicer, and are perhaps more sensible, mature, and probably will agree with your ideals, then go ahead. If not, then why are they worth mentioning?&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt; Simple: You shouldn't even be thinking about things that don't matter to you. If they occupy that little of a brain space in your head, then yup, you are obviously bothered by it, no matter how much you try to deny it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2, Talking about ME is one thing, talking about my FRIENDS and the people I care about is another. And that, I can't let it go. Don't talk about them like as if you know how they are like. You've never even spoken to some of them, and they are such great people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Oh and, one last thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not the one who is moving on so fast after this relationship. After we broke up, I didn't have any interest to be with anyone else. So please, if you're the one who is talking to another girl so much (so you say), then you don't even have the right to comment on me, ok? Pot calling the kettle black. I'm sure you can imagine how pissed I am at you right now, so please don't even try to make it sound like as if your love is so deep, because if it is, no one else would have interest you. And DON'T make up any excuse for this. Who was the one who said that he would wait for a few years just to become the guy that I will really like? Yayayaya, all empty words, it's so like you to just say those and never do them. Just like how you always are like and always will be like.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-4070916908296287339?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/4070916908296287339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/4070916908296287339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_03_01_archive.html#4070916908296287339' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-5244023432760414808</id><published>2010-03-13T16:37:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-13T16:44:12.767+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>YAAAAYYY!! Theory exam is over!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I lucked out on this one, cos I was panicking about my italian terms the previous night and TADAAAAHH, they gave me legato and cantabile!! Oh and rubato, which I totally forgot.........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can finally start practicing my strokes &amp; sight reading! Aweeeeesome :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really want to continue studying theory though..... Maybe take grade 6 with the dabian HAHAH. Grade 5 was so interesting! &amp; grade 6 is probably 10x more difficult but... I'm sure it'll be even more interesting! So excited :) :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the next few days, ample rest &amp; practicing cos I still cant get my double strokes right... AND NOWWW, shower &amp; eat my awesome biscuits from Ikea HAha tata!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-5244023432760414808?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/5244023432760414808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/5244023432760414808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_03_01_archive.html#5244023432760414808' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-4890231395719025699</id><published>2010-03-11T00:18:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T00:56:58.510+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>1: Don't EVER say bad/horrible things about my friends or the people I care about, especially if you don't know a single thing about them. No matter what, these people have been with me through the darkest periods of my life and without them, I wouldn't be able to find myself being who I am now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2: Don't insult me and my life. I know what I want, thank you very much. And even if I don't, I know who are the appropriate wise people to seek advice from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3: Don't take me for a stupid 20 year old who believes everything and everyone in the world. I may think that the grass is always green and that the world is always beautiful, but I am.not.stupid. Once bitten twice shy, you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4: Don't give me advice on my life when you apparently can't handle your own. Why do you call it a passion when it can be given up so easily? A passion would be something you hold on to, the only thing that you can hold on to, when your life seems like it's falling apart and nothing else seem to be right anymore. That's what a passion is for, to add life INTO your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yup, you were right, I was boiling mad and I still get mad when I think about what you said, but that's me. And it's not because I think I'm right all the time, because I know I'm not God. But I side myself all the time because I have my own ideals and I refuse to let them waver unless I experience failures myself. I want to be strong enough to have my own dreams and live my life the way I want to. Even if I have a boyfriend, I will never change my life, my dreams, my passion, my ideals in any way just to suit his.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-4890231395719025699?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/4890231395719025699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/4890231395719025699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_03_01_archive.html#4890231395719025699' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-2961749384124765486</id><published>2010-03-09T22:16:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T22:19:01.585+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This sounds so silly but...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the first time I want to do something so well. I don't think I've ever had such high expectations for myself for anything else, because all I wanted to do was to get things over and done with. Is that weird?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And... I really don't want to become like ______. I don't know if I should rethink my decision and choose somewhere else instead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-2961749384124765486?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2961749384124765486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2961749384124765486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_03_01_archive.html#2961749384124765486' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-4469886562438524595</id><published>2010-03-01T14:57:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T14:59:12.516+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've come to realise that I play mallets not because I feel obliged to, but because I really love it, the sound of it and the feeling it gives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... play something you love, or play something else that will give you exposure?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-4469886562438524595?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/4469886562438524595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/4469886562438524595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_03_01_archive.html#4469886562438524595' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-2748570241258190112</id><published>2010-02-24T17:55:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-24T17:57:10.607+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Come to think of it, my dream in relation to design has always been to become a freelance designer, and not an office designer. And I still like doing design for the fun of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-2748570241258190112?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2748570241258190112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2748570241258190112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_02_01_archive.html#2748570241258190112' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-9016496375115355481</id><published>2010-02-23T00:04:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T00:20:42.287+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>To all you lecturers who think that you should demoralise us to make us feel like we're useless and that we should improve,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;think about it again, ok?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not even worried. I'm mad pissed and feeling so angry right now. Does being a lecturer give you the right to step on everyone's hard work and rip their feelings off like it doesn't matter at all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well you know what? One day, someone will do that EXACT same thing to your kid, who will come home crying to you, having his dreams and ambitions crushed because someone stupid tore his hopes into bits. One day, YOUR KID will be traumatised, be afraid of dreaming and achieving what he really wants &amp; one day, your kid will never get to be someone great because his lecturer told him that he was useless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if anyone here wants to insert a sentence telling me that "criticisms make people fight harder," then just shut up ok? I don't want to hear any of that right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What people need are encouragements, are people to believe in them. We all have a heart that longs to be accepted, and all of us want to be able to believe that we can do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU, the people who find satisfaction on stepping on other people's failures and inabilities, shame on you, because one day when you long to be accepted, you will find it difficult for anyone to believe in you because you failed to believe in others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We came to design school with our grades. Most of us, anyway. Who are we to know whether we have the ability and passion to keep it going? We all had a blind faith in design, we all thought that this was what we loved. And yet you never fail to see how some of us just don't love it as much as you do. And you want to know why? Because we're meant for greater things. We have other talents that YOU fail to see, because you expect us to have the same passion as you do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you know what? I don't, because there are other things that I am better at than you are. And if you think that by criticising me, it's going to make me feel horrible and shameful about my work, then you're wrong, because I know that taking up this course is just a trial for me to see whether I'm suitable for it. And if I'm not, fine, there are better things that I can do. You're not going to make me feel useless because you yourself, who fail to have faith in other people, are useless. I have faith in myself and my life, so don't trash me because you don't even have the rights to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Years later when I look back on this, you're just going to be a person, as tiny as a speck of dust, whom I probably am not going to remember because you didn't matter. If you find satisfaction in making other people feel horrible about themselves, then what a sad life you have.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-9016496375115355481?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/9016496375115355481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/9016496375115355481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_02_01_archive.html#9016496375115355481' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-2705678921417174585</id><published>2010-02-21T00:41:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-21T00:58:23.151+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I lost 1kg HAHAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I have no idea why I lost weight instead of gaining them during the festive season, especially when I did eat quite a bit of snacks. Yet when I do eat snacks, I seem to be unable to take in my regular meals because I get so full easily. The other day when I was having a late lunch in school, I only managed to finished half of my meal, even though I only ate half a plate of noodles about 7 hours before that. And I was STARVING before I had my late lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hardly ever seem to get hungry now, and today all I ate was bread at 10am and dinner at 8pm. And now when I think about it... Dinner was half a plate of rice, 3 spoonfuls of veggies, a small piece of pork and 1 crab pincer. Is that a lot or very little? :/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why I seem to have messed up my eating habits. OH AND I've been having like 3 cups of green tea every day for the past week or so, because when I'm doing my FYP I can't seem to eat or drink anything else and green tea became my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh anddddd. The letter came today and theory exam is in about less than a month's time, so I've to buck up on that. And my mum says she's going to support me for the time being HAHAHA. But she wants me to do housework at home and make her salads for dinner! Aweeeesome I love salads! I'm only going to start looking for a job after the theory exam I think, unless I can find a part time one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OKAAAAY that's all for updates, FYP presentation on thursday!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail I'm not going to fail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have some faith!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-2705678921417174585?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2705678921417174585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2705678921417174585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_02_01_archive.html#2705678921417174585' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-2286816422029407741</id><published>2010-02-19T02:29:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-19T02:30:29.332+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>To sleep or not to sleep?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My eyelids are getting so heavy, &amp; the 3 hours of sleep the previous night just wasn't enough.. WHAT IF I DON'T WAKE UP IN TIME?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay I know, I'll sleep on the floor. That always works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just get through today and I'll be fine...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-2286816422029407741?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2286816422029407741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2286816422029407741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_02_01_archive.html#2286816422029407741' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-7369662718887755685</id><published>2010-02-16T02:06:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T02:08:12.160+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Wth, I don't know why I'm so freaking pissed off. Or maybe I should be. It's just so unfair. Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait for band to start so that I'd be able to see my section agn. FINALLY, something that makes me happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-7369662718887755685?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7369662718887755685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7369662718887755685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_02_01_archive.html#7369662718887755685' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-8122056390992785570</id><published>2010-02-12T19:05:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-12T19:21:43.070+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC01446.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The oat crackers taste so awesome with the salad :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I have pretty purple curtains now, with the white lacy ones behind them. So pretty!! I'm going to do some spring cleaning for my room as well! Like, now, because apparently we will be having guests over on Monday night and my room is in a HUGE mess, especially this cupboard which is stuffed full of junk...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ervina, this is for you :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been only a year since we've both known each other and since you've been in the section, but you're a bundle of fun and it's been so good having you with us for that one year. Many many things have happened &amp; you're such an amazing person, for always listening to me and my problems, accompanying me to cut my hair, waiting for me when I'm late (!!!), cutting your hair short to accompany mine, and all the many many things that you've done, hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know this isn't going to be the last time we'll see each other, but we won't be able to see each other so much since you won't be in band anymore :( &amp; I know that I've done a very poor job of teaching you mallets and I'm sorry about that :( Supposedly I was kinda left on the mallets side so that I'd be able to teach you but I think.... :X Boss does a better job hahahaha. I hope you've learnt new things while you were here though, and I really really will miss you so much because it's going to be so different without you around. I talk to you and Boss the most during band practices :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The section before your batch came was kinda different in a way. We were close, but we didn't use to go for suppers and hang out that much after school. I think your batch &amp; you really made a difference and it brought all of us closer together :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll always be here if you need a listening ear, &amp; most importantly I want you to be really happy, whatever you do and wherever you are. Anyone who bullies you is going to get it from me HAHAH. Take care of yourself okay? :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-8122056390992785570?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/8122056390992785570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/8122056390992785570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_02_01_archive.html#8122056390992785570' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-1514369144872687020</id><published>2010-02-10T00:47:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-10T01:12:13.243+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photographs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC01377.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC01379.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning's breakfast, which consisted of lettuce, tomatoes, variety of crackers, and canned tuna, with italian dressing all over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH and, I just got my glasses!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC01382.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC01387.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC01388.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC01395.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/screen-capture-4.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always refused to wear my glasses because they make me SO giddy and my head will start to hurt after like 10 seconds of wearing it. I know people always tell me that I have to get used to all the headaches/giddyness before it will start to feel alright but seriously, I can't take it. I just don't understand why I have to bear with such horrible head pains so that I can get used to wearing my glasses. In fact, I don't really want to get used to them, because all I need is a pair of glasses when I need to see or read something clearly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went down to the optometrist the other day with my brother and told them that my current pair of glasses (which I've NEVER worn because I feel giddy almost immediately when I put them on) was giving me problems. And I specifically mentioned that I didn't want a pair of glasses that would make me feel so horrible again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And all my life when I went to the optometrist, they would ALWAYS insist on making me a perfect pair (that would give me the perfect head pains, of course), saying that I would have to get used to the giddyness eventually. And of course, I just took their words for it and that's why I hate wearing glasses so much. I'd rather walk around half blind most of the time than to have headaches. I can't stand headaches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well anyway, this optometrist that I went to was kind enough to actually not insist that I own a pair of head-killing glasses. In fact, he tested my eyesight for quite a period of time until he finally decided on some lenses which actually didn't give me head pains. It's fine for me to not be able to see tiny words clearly if they're far away, I don't even need to see them. I just needed decent glasses. I think he lowered the degree on the lenses of my glasses so that I wouldn't feel so horrible when I'm wearing them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today when I collected them, I tried them on and I love them so much because THEY ACTUALLY DON'T GIVE ME HEADACHES OR MAKE ME FEEL NAUSEOUS. Seriously. And putting them on just makes me feel how blind I've been for the past 10 years, walking around with blurry images of human far off in the distance -_-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YUPPP, so I love them! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC01402.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC01411.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this was my dinner/supper!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two different types of lettuce, with tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, cucumber, and grapes. All topped with bacon, bits of cheese, oat crackers with cheese slices &amp; canned tuna, sprinkled with parsley and flavoured with italian dressing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, I need to shower and get to bed!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-1514369144872687020?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/1514369144872687020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/1514369144872687020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_02_01_archive.html#1514369144872687020' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-7618527287599996427</id><published>2010-02-05T12:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T12:52:31.700+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC01241.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC01248.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC01256.jpg"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-7618527287599996427?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7618527287599996427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7618527287599996427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_02_01_archive.html#7618527287599996427' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-2138098162095303541</id><published>2010-02-04T19:15:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T19:19:27.192+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I just found out that my favourite (and one and only) esprit bag just self destructed. I don't think I can use it anymore ;'( I don't know what happened, there were tiny mini bugs crawling all over and some parts of the bag went all soft, and the handles just don't seem like they can survive anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate this, I love the bag so so so much, even though I haven't been carrying it for nearly a year. But only because I didn't want it to spoil so quickly ;'( And then when I want to carry it again, I just couldn't anymore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do all the things spoil only after I start getting attached to it?! This is currently happening to my gladiator looking flats too ;'( I hate it when my pretty stuffs spoil!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-2138098162095303541?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2138098162095303541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2138098162095303541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_02_01_archive.html#2138098162095303541' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-3613993064307383850</id><published>2010-02-03T14:26:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-03T14:28:50.124+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC01231.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Salad last night was awesome.. I want to make another bowl of this today!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh btw for anyone who loves salad because it's healthy, don't use the thousand island sauce because it's horribly fattening... I used the italian dressing and it's a lil sour/sweet and it has an italian taste to it. How do you describe italian taste?? Mmmm.. Awesome :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-3613993064307383850?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3613993064307383850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3613993064307383850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_02_01_archive.html#3613993064307383850' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-5252742967585731502</id><published>2010-02-01T16:10:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T16:12:16.673+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC01180.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breakfast today :) It was awwwesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was my first time scrambling eggs and I think they aren't soft enough. But still yummy :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-5252742967585731502?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/5252742967585731502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/5252742967585731502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_02_01_archive.html#5252742967585731502' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-4749310155550268235</id><published>2010-01-30T00:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-30T00:41:43.346+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC01130.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's yellow and pink!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-4749310155550268235?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/4749310155550268235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/4749310155550268235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html#4749310155550268235' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-2073143708035395747</id><published>2010-01-28T23:27:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T23:27:59.257+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hahaha I want to paint my christmas-sy nail colours again (:&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-2073143708035395747?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2073143708035395747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2073143708035395747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html#2073143708035395747' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-8629162121852481931</id><published>2010-01-26T13:42:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-17T22:07:16.092+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Don't ever promise me things you can't fulfil or give. You break my heart so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-8629162121852481931?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/8629162121852481931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/8629162121852481931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html#8629162121852481931' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-3369276353939980007</id><published>2010-01-26T01:00:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T01:02:09.392+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's going to be ok, if you let your mind take over your heart instead of the other way round. And that's what it's going to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-3369276353939980007?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3369276353939980007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3369276353939980007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html#3369276353939980007' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-7496999654632160884</id><published>2010-01-22T10:55:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-22T10:56:50.921+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;COME ONNNN, of course I can do this. It's just FYP.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;But first I need to shit.&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/6627957-7496999654632160884?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7496999654632160884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7496999654632160884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html#7496999654632160884' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-1779139131109570747</id><published>2010-01-21T22:41:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T22:42:28.585+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;   "Don't be fooled by me.&lt;br /&gt;              Don't be fooled by the face I wear&lt;br /&gt;              for I wear a mask, a thousand masks,&lt;br /&gt;              masks that I'm afraid to take off,&lt;br /&gt;              and none of them is me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;              Pretending is an art that's second nature with me,&lt;br /&gt;              but don't be fooled,&lt;br /&gt;              for God's sake don't be fooled.&lt;br /&gt;              I give you the impression that I'm secure,&lt;br /&gt;              that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well&lt;br /&gt;                   as without,&lt;br /&gt;              that confidence is my name and coolness my game,&lt;br /&gt;              that the water's calm and I'm in command&lt;br /&gt;              and that I need no one,&lt;br /&gt;              but don't believe me.&lt;br /&gt;              My surface may seem smooth but my surface is my mask,&lt;br /&gt;              ever-varying and ever-concealing.&lt;br /&gt;              Beneath lies no complacence.&lt;br /&gt;              Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness.&lt;br /&gt;              But I hide this.  I don't want anybody to know it.&lt;br /&gt;              I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed.&lt;br /&gt;              That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,&lt;br /&gt;              a nonchalant sophisticated facade,&lt;br /&gt;              to help me pretend,&lt;br /&gt;              to shield me from the glance that knows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;              But such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only hope,&lt;br /&gt;              and I know it.&lt;br /&gt;              That is, if it's followed by acceptance,&lt;br /&gt;              if it's followed by love.&lt;br /&gt;              It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself,&lt;br /&gt;              from my own self-built prison walls,&lt;br /&gt;              from the barriers I so painstakingly erect.&lt;br /&gt;              It's the only thing that will assure me&lt;br /&gt;              of what I can't assure myself,&lt;br /&gt;              that I'm really worth something.&lt;br /&gt;              But I don't tell you this.  I don't dare to, I'm afraid to.&lt;br /&gt;              I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance,&lt;br /&gt;              will not be followed by love.&lt;br /&gt;              I'm afraid you'll think less of me,&lt;br /&gt;              that you'll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.&lt;br /&gt;              I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing&lt;br /&gt;              and that you will see this and reject me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;              So I play my game, my desperate pretending game,&lt;br /&gt;              with a facade of assurance without&lt;br /&gt;              and a trembling child within.&lt;br /&gt;              So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks,&lt;br /&gt;              and my life becomes a front.&lt;br /&gt;I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk.&lt;br /&gt;              I tell you everything that's really nothing,&lt;br /&gt;              and nothing of what's everything,&lt;br /&gt;              of what's crying within me.&lt;br /&gt;              So when I'm going through my routine&lt;br /&gt;              do not be fooled by what I'm saying.&lt;br /&gt;              Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying,&lt;br /&gt;              what I'd like to be able to say,&lt;br /&gt;              what for survival I need to say,&lt;br /&gt;              but what I can't say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;              I don't like hiding.&lt;br /&gt;              I don't like playing superficial phony games.&lt;br /&gt;              I want to stop playing them.&lt;br /&gt;              I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me&lt;br /&gt;              but you've got to help me.&lt;br /&gt;              You've got to hold out your hand&lt;br /&gt;              even when that's the last thing I seem to want.&lt;br /&gt;              Only you can wipe away from my eyes&lt;br /&gt;              the blank stare of the breathing dead.&lt;br /&gt;              Only you can call me into aliveness.&lt;br /&gt;              Each time you're kind, and gentle, and encouraging,&lt;br /&gt;              each time you try to understand because you really care,&lt;br /&gt;              my heart begins to grow wings--&lt;br /&gt;              very small wings,&lt;br /&gt;              very feeble wings,&lt;br /&gt;              but wings!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;              With your power to touch me into feeling&lt;br /&gt;              you can breathe life into me.&lt;br /&gt;              I want you to know that.&lt;br /&gt;              I want you to know how important you are to me,&lt;br /&gt;              how you can be a creator--an honest-to-God creator--&lt;br /&gt;              of the person that is me&lt;br /&gt;              if you choose to.&lt;br /&gt;              You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,&lt;br /&gt;              you alone can remove my mask,&lt;br /&gt;              you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic,&lt;br /&gt;              from my lonely prison,&lt;br /&gt;              if you choose to.&lt;br /&gt;              Please choose to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;              Do not pass me by.&lt;br /&gt;              It will not be easy for you.&lt;br /&gt;              A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.&lt;br /&gt;              The nearer you approach to me&lt;br /&gt;              the blinder I may strike back.&lt;br /&gt;              It's irrational, but despite what the books say about man&lt;br /&gt;              often I am irrational.&lt;br /&gt;              I fight against the very thing I cry out for.&lt;br /&gt;              But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls&lt;br /&gt;              and in this lies my hope.&lt;br /&gt;              Please try to beat down those walls&lt;br /&gt;              with firm hands but with gentle hands&lt;br /&gt;              for a child is very sensitive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;              Who am I, you may wonder?&lt;br /&gt;              I am someone you know very well.&lt;br /&gt;              For I am every man you meet&lt;br /&gt;              and I am every woman you meet."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                    -Charles C. Finn&lt;br /&gt;                                                     September 1966&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-1779139131109570747?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/1779139131109570747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/1779139131109570747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html#1779139131109570747' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-151498268894411840</id><published>2010-01-19T00:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T00:31:16.047+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='*'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't know if I can do this anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-151498268894411840?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/151498268894411840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/151498268894411840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html#151498268894411840' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-8260040914447472088</id><published>2010-01-17T01:28:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-17T01:56:23.534+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I napped for 2 hours and now I can't really get to bed. So I'm up reading blogs and I just remembered some silly stuffs about yl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know that first time we talked on the phone again for more than an hour after so long? I really don't know why I asked you if you were free to talk to me. I couldn't sleep because I wanted to talk to you on the phone, and I was scared and nervous because I didn't know if the conversation was going to be full of silent moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was that night, sitting outside mcdonald's when I suddenly asked you what did 4 years actually mean, because I forgot. And then you paused for awhile and I'll never forget that moment of silence when you looked at me and didn't know whether you should say it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was scared and I still am, about relationships. The first and last time I actually gave it my all, that stupid guy broke my heart and I've never been able to forgive that totally. You know who he is, surely. I don't want to feel that way again, and that's why I never give in my all. Whenever I don't feel loved, I withdraw myself immediately and act like it doesn't matter. And I think it's really easy to notice that when I change the tone in my text messages or the way I talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And even though I'm with you... This still happens to me. I can't get that sensitive part of me out from my mind. I don't really know what to do about it. And even though it's you... I still feel like you're going to be like the rest sometimes. I'm sorry :( I don't have faith in many things, and in fact almost everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to have to end this abruptly cos I just noticed it's 2am and I want to sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-8260040914447472088?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/8260040914447472088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/8260040914447472088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html#8260040914447472088' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-2086035942223926196</id><published>2010-01-14T19:29:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T19:46:30.718+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>If I actually love you enough, I would have been willing to do everything for you without complaining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the fact is I don't and you, design, are an asshole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fought with me and my thoughts for the past few days, thinking and still thinking about giving this up. Lying on the floor at 12am, knowing that I have to get up 2 hours later to complete my work but yet hoping that I won't get up in time, so that I can skip this critique and just run away for once. Telling myself that I won't fail, fighting against my own thoughts just so that I won't give this up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it's just so damn difficult when you know that you don't have a choice. I don't know what to do, nothing is helping and all the ideas are not working. I don't know how I managed to convince myself to get through the past 3 months. 3 months later and it's not enough. Nothing is ever enough. I'm sorry that I have a brain that doesn't produce creative ideas, and a mind that isn't motivated enough to want to improve on design. Spending my time and efforts for what? Just to get a cert that tells people about how I sell myself and my own design values just to satisfy a client who knows shit about what design really is about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like, what? 1 more month. I don't know why I stayed up from 2am last night up till now, doing my work when I don't really love you so much anymore. How many times over the course of 3 years, have I managed to convince myself that I do love you? Time and time again, people kept proving me wrong and they're right. I'm not meant for you at all. Now if you will just leave me alone, please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's 7.40pm and I'm heading to bed. Tomorrow, Sat and Sun will be free of fyp. I can't stand you anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-2086035942223926196?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2086035942223926196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2086035942223926196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html#2086035942223926196' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-1702355138817286246</id><published>2010-01-03T01:52:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-03T01:59:54.312+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yl is now deciding on his new yr resolution so I WILL, TOO :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Jog more. Don't be lazy.&lt;br /&gt;2) Practice snare. PRACTICE SNAREEEEE!!&lt;br /&gt;3) Try to be nicer and more understanding to people that I don't like. K that might be a lil tough....&lt;br /&gt;4) Study hard for theory.&lt;br /&gt;5) DON'T EVER CUT SHORT HAIR AGAIN.&lt;br /&gt;6) Sleep earlier so that I won't grow so many pimples.&lt;br /&gt;7) Don't take yl for granted.&lt;br /&gt;8) Let him eat all my food so that he grows fat.&lt;br /&gt;9) Poke him whenever I'm bored.&lt;br /&gt;10) Stop talking about shit so much? HAHAHA&lt;br /&gt;11) Try to be more tolerant.&lt;br /&gt;12) Try to be nicer to yl and stop bullying him (so he says) :x&lt;br /&gt;13) Haiya I dunno... I want to go shit now brb, continue next time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-1702355138817286246?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/1702355138817286246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/1702355138817286246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html#1702355138817286246' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-858960841415159437</id><published>2010-01-03T01:49:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-03T01:51:10.169+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='*'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>L, this made me think of you. It's for you =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 22px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“ Don’t waste your time asking why such an amazing thing could happen to you, just let it happen. Don’t doubt that you could be loved, just let yourself be loved. If you don’t believe you’re worthy of anyone’s time, then you won’t be. Take yourself seriously and others will too. ‘Why’ is such a wasteful question. Why? Because that’s the way it’s supposed to be. That’s the only answer you can have. Accept it. ” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-858960841415159437?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/858960841415159437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/858960841415159437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html#858960841415159437' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-82924065427153479</id><published>2010-01-01T00:08:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-30T16:07:41.933+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay it's officially 2010 and that happy new yr text message that I'm trying to send to yl keeps failing so I'm here reflecting for 2009.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually I don't really know what to say about 2009. But it was a good year. Getting closer to good &amp; best friends (you know who you are :D), meeting people who are going to change my life, and knowing people who care so much and are willing to do so much for me. Being close with my section people, who always put a smile on my face whenever things are tough. The late night suppers, music making, percussion ensembles... You guys make me laugh the hardest, hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To boss, though you might not see this because you're like totally out of the blog/internet world (:x), thank you for being who you are and thank you for being such a great friend. And for always encouraging me during practices and performances.. I'm always telling you that I can't do it, and you're always telling me that I can. For being that patient, caring, lame and good listener, thank you. And also for tolerating my loud laughter, my impatience, complaints, and all those random times when I (think) I acted like an ass. And thank you for accepting me as who I am, because sometimes I know I'm damn mean and intolerant towards certain people. I think you should know that even though the section keeps bullying you (HAHAHA), we actually really like you deep down in our hearts AHAHA. You're really an important person in this section, and I've always and will always respect you, and I'm sure I'm speaking for the rest of them as well hahaha. Your playing still amazes me and I guess I've never told you this before but you're someone that I set my standards at. I'm still far at it but.. HAHaha. I'll improve my snare!! I hope. Seeing you play still leaves me in awe sometimes, even though I've been seeing it for 3 yrs. AND I'm really really really glad that you found your gf, because you two deserve each other the most =) K, treasure this whole paragraph because these will be the only nice things I'll ever say to you in my whole life :X&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OKAY, to jasmin, I've got an endless list of things to thank you for, but most importantly, for being my best/closest friend. I know that I can always count on you to be there, and you know you can too. And thank you... for accepting who I am too. You're really one of the nicest people I know and I never want to take you for granted because of that. And also for all the encouragements on my playing, especially during the period when I was practicing Wooden Devils. I know that I would never ever have made it for that piece if not for you and Ignatius, because I never knew anything deeper than the surface about music. And having given that opportunity to play was really awesome, because it made me love music more. For being that thoughtful, caring and kind person, thank you. And for all the gossips, laughter, bad karma, listening ear, company.. thank you too =) And not to forget, for supporting my decision about what I want to do with my life and career. You're an amazing person, so don't ever think less about yourself, because I love you for who you are =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;s&gt;Last but not least...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To anyone who was wondering who on earth yong lin is or why he suddenly became my bf,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to know each other two years ago and got together during Feb 08, and the relationship only lasted for a few months. And then we both moved on with our lives like that relationship never existed. And then pooof, he came and played for tp band and I guess I kinda got to know him all over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well the thing is, we're both kinda different from who we were two years back. And during these two years, I learnt many things about life and I learnt them the hard way. I don't learn my lessons until I get hurt and I guess because of that, I was reluctant to get back together with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you know what's amazing about him? His tolerance and patience for someone like me who often complains a lot about things/people, who has a lack of confidence about my own playing and about love itself. I know I can always count on him to hold my hand when things get rough. And honestly... I don't know how this is going to be like. For someone like me who always gives up on relationships halfway, this is probably gonna be tough. But it's gonna be a month soon and I think so far we're fine =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I probably don't say this a lot and I don't show my appreciation enough, but I know how much you do for me. All the little things like waiting at my doorstep, sending me back every night, wanting to do things for me... They count for a lot. Thank you for... never giving up on me. For loving me and my faults, for always taking care of me, for tolerating my whines and complaints. And for loving my short (ugly) hair and pimply face too, hahaha. You're a wonderful person and your never-ending love for me still amazes me so much =)&lt;/s&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay it's late... Should I sleep? I don't want to grow more pimples.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-82924065427153479?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/82924065427153479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/82924065427153479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html#82924065427153479' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-3336850756469209180</id><published>2009-12-30T23:53:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T00:40:32.924+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today I tried playing yl's trumpet and it sounded like fart. And no matter how many times I tried, it still sounded the same. But you know what? The look on his face was priceless HAHAHA. He kept looking at me in this way like he didn't know what to do with me and my farting sounds. I think I'm not meant for the trumpet =(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consultation today was alright, though I found out that I had kinda like a borderline pass for the last critique... It's weird but when I consult, the lecturer makes me feel like I can do anything, like nothing is impossible and that I can complete this. But yet when I'm all alone doing my work, I feel like crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay btw...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/IMG_5315.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is yl's dog. Super adorable or what!!! But it only lets me take photos when there's food =(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-3336850756469209180?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3336850756469209180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3336850756469209180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#3336850756469209180' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-7237321493409938758</id><published>2009-12-29T14:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T14:20:15.909+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/00064ggs.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She makes me love my short hair!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-7237321493409938758?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7237321493409938758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7237321493409938758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#7237321493409938758' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-825196873102603143</id><published>2009-12-27T03:46:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T15:13:58.604+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='*'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 22px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"&gt;“ Every girl needs a man; the kind that will treat you right as well as others; the kind that has enough respect for himself, family, and others; the one that will change for you to just be with you. The kind that searches for you with his heart, the kind that can be trusted alone with a room full of many other beautiful ladies, the kind that won’t cheat on you cause he knows he’s got all he wants and needs already, the kind that’s willing to be your friend and lover, the kind that doesn’t mind calling early in the morning to say good morning and late at night to say good night; maybe even sing you a good morning and tell you a good night story or talk to you until you fall asleep. That kind that will do anything for you, even if it’s just to buy your favorite kind of candy. The kind that will defend and fight for you, the kind that won’t ditch you for his friends when you need him the most, the kind that won’t leave you lonely and wondering. The kind that isn’t afraid to smile to his friends every time you’re around and tell them, “She’s the one.” The kind that appreciates you for the things to do for him, even if they’re small gestures. The kind that actually thanks you for the little love notes you leave him, the kind that is willing to wait for you when you’re falling behind, the kind that will actually open the door for you, take you out on dates once in a while and buy you flowers cause it’s a Wednesday. The kind that notices your hair when you just got it cut or done beautifully for him, the kind that reminds you that he loves you and that he’s happy with you in case you forget. The kind that kisses your forehead when you’re down, the kind that tells you to be strong and not to cry, the kind that will go through thick and thin with, and for you, the kind that just loves you for who you are. That kind of man, that’s the kind you keep. ” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-825196873102603143?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/825196873102603143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/825196873102603143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#825196873102603143' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-3544626531624206878</id><published>2009-12-25T01:17:00.009+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T01:26:48.770+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='*'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;Come on... Just give it a last shot. Remember how you used to want this so much? You said design and nothing else, and that you'd even skip another year of school if you didn't get into a design course. Now look how much you want to get out of it. Remember how you used to be filled with so much hope and passion for this? How you wanted to get it so much that you based your dreams and future on something which you knew completely nothing about. Now get back that blind faith and start working on what's important right now. Everything else can wait. But you know what can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get it over and done with, and then think about music. It'll be there right after you're done with this, I promise. But you have to finish this up. Clean up your mess. And then at the end of the day, I promise you that everything you've done will be worth it. I promise you that you'll be able to feel like a huge burden was lifted off your shoulder, that you'll be able to stop worrying and dreading about your life. But you have to get through this. And you know what will be waiting for you at the end of it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.&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/6627957-3544626531624206878?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3544626531624206878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3544626531624206878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#3544626531624206878' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-3078150656685668776</id><published>2009-12-25T00:17:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T00:20:52.016+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/Photo432copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just in time for X'mas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merry Christmas everyone =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-3078150656685668776?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3078150656685668776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3078150656685668776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#3078150656685668776' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-6241407768542608280</id><published>2009-12-24T14:05:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-24T14:09:33.291+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't know if I can get through this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so sure of it and now I'm not anymore. I'm dreading Monday, when school reopens and I'll have to start dealing with it again. I've already wasted two weeks by procrastinating. I don't want to do my FYP anymore. Part of me just wants to throw this aside and point middle fingers at everyone else who is going to tell me that I wasted my 3 years. But I know for a fact that I shouldn't be doing that, that people advise me against it because they care for me and they want me to get through it. But everyone else doesn't know for a fact how difficult this is. To do something you're hopelessly poor at, while everyone else is probably 5 times ahead and better than you (this, I am not exaggerating). How am I supposed to get through this? I don't know how and it's so difficult to continue on like this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-6241407768542608280?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/6241407768542608280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/6241407768542608280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#6241407768542608280' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-1573447993116167024</id><published>2009-12-20T23:20:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-20T23:35:20.518+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've just received my X'mas present from my yl and it's a GIANT eeyore stuffed toy with a huge tummy. I don't ever receive stuffed toys as gifts anymore (past that age) but I love the one he gave. And all it took was for me to point out the eeyore in TM and go, "LOOK! The eeyore very big! So nice!" And 2 days later it appeared outside my door in his arms =')&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why he always does such silly stuffs for me, like how he tried to collect the whole set of disney toy capsules 2 years ago. And it's extremely sweet, although it makes me feel guilty all the time, because in addition to doing all these, he ALWAYS waits for me patiently when I'm late (which is all the time -_-) and he never complains about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay I'm going to have to do my work now. I promised to work hard, so I will :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-1573447993116167024?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/1573447993116167024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/1573447993116167024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#1573447993116167024' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-9126576579860154509</id><published>2009-12-19T14:29:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T14:29:28.964+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00740.jpg"&gt;&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/6627957-9126576579860154509?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/9126576579860154509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/9126576579860154509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#9126576579860154509' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-7892543904527466037</id><published>2009-12-17T17:32:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T17:49:46.834+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I cannot believe this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00720.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00722.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00723.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always thought that I threw them away 2 years ago, and I know I regretted it because I really liked them, and also because someone put in a lot of effort into getting these for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today, I was rummaging through my stuff, looking for stickers to stick in my planner. I had this box full of folded stars which I dumped things in, including small gifts from other people. And when I stuck my hand in to see what I had kept in it, I managed to pull these out of nowhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine my surprise when I found them. I didn't even know that they were still with me, I've always told other people that I threw them away. I guessed I must have kept them away, and then forgot about it. And then I thought that I threw them away because I didn't really bother to look for them anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT ANYWAY, I'VE JUST FOUND THEM. And it's making me very happy because I really liked the tinkerbell and I still do. I'm just afraid to hang it on my phone because I did that and the head snapped -_-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK I need to go get my stuff now, tata.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-7892543904527466037?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7892543904527466037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7892543904527466037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#7892543904527466037' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-2913833730177864352</id><published>2009-12-17T14:03:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T14:25:43.463+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Monday:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00700.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00712.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00713.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm listening to christmas carols nowww :D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okaaayyy got to get back to doing my theory.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-2913833730177864352?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2913833730177864352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2913833730177864352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#2913833730177864352' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-1013402835261962304</id><published>2009-12-13T01:58:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T02:05:06.833+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I cannot sleep because I'm up thinking of my long lost hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it's stupid to keep thinking about it, but I'm so mad pissed with myself for cutting it away after having it with me for close to 4 years. I don't know wtf I was thinking, I don't even like myself in short hair, no matter what other people say. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wth. I'm NEVER going to cut my hair short ever again, just like how I will never cut straight bangs again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just can't stop whining about this. ARGH. DOASIJIASDJASODJASDOiaDIJASDwne stupid hair&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-1013402835261962304?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/1013402835261962304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/1013402835261962304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#1013402835261962304' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-3175442110816273026</id><published>2009-12-13T00:11:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T00:12:48.695+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='=('/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>You know what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;I really, really miss my long hair ='(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear I'll never ever cut my hair short again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-3175442110816273026?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3175442110816273026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3175442110816273026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#3175442110816273026' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-9182794229683723138</id><published>2009-12-12T22:27:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-12T22:34:59.041+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>X'mas cards in the making:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/xmas1.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/xmas2.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/xmas3.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/xmas4.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/xmas5.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know, I think the second one looks better without colours. But I've already coloured it :/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My stomach's still unwell. I lost 2kgs from all that shitting (literally) and I don't even look skinnier. But I'm pretty sure I'll gain them back from supper on MONDAAAY ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;.. I missed another band practice today =( Hope I don't miss the one tomorrow. MY TABLE IS IN A MESS. I REALLY NEED TO PACK IT.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-9182794229683723138?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/9182794229683723138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/9182794229683723138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#9182794229683723138' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-4658490721706027885</id><published>2009-12-11T22:40:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-11T23:16:13.365+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hello world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for the disappearing act I pulled ;'(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Been trashed during crit, been sick, and have missed a couple of important things (like band practice).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it's the holidays already but... there are certain things that I wanna work on and now isn't the time to give up on any of them. Especially.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That being said, I've got to run along now. I'll update this space once I get some excited stuff to blog about. Probably on Monday, because I'll be seeing JASMIN! And my lovely section! Can't wait!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I've been giving it a lot of thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the thing is, it's extremely weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not like I hate design, you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't explain the immense excitement and warmth I feel when I see a good design, be it on a magazine, a packaging, a brochure... The thing is, I just can't &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;do&lt;/span&gt; it. It's not like I chose not to be creative, not to have a good pair of artistic hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just like how I love looking at pretty photographs or pretty people in fashion photography. There's just something about them that intrigues me. And then again, it's not like I want to or can be a photographer because I love pretty photographs. Just like how it wouldn't be possible to be a graphic designer just because I love graphics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you know what I really hate about all of these? Sitting in the damn office every single day, facing something dead (namely, a computer), clicking your mouse and pressing shortcut keys on your keyboard about a thousand times a day, wrecking your brain for creative ideas you know you'd never have, and the list goes on and on. And then when you're finally satisfied with the design you did, you send it to the client and an e-mail comes back to you telling you to change every single thing: from the colours to the typeface to the design.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And even if it turns out to look like crap, you can't say anything because you're being paid, and you follow what &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;they&lt;/span&gt; want. I mean, really... Why don't they just hire someone who knows how to use the programmes instead of someone who actually studied design.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that sitting in the office doing things like that everyday just isn't right for me. It's not how I imagined my life to be. And for other people, it might be what they want but I just can't do it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really need to go pack my table now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-4658490721706027885?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/4658490721706027885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/4658490721706027885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#4658490721706027885' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-8429254195168230590</id><published>2009-12-08T14:40:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T14:41:10.448+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 22px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;At some point, you’ve just got to jump. You’ve got to quit being scared of the “maybes” and “what-ifs” and just fucking jump. Quit cheating yourself out of the best thing that could ever happen to you, quit cheating him out of the same, and just fall. Fall hard, fall long, and fall forever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-8429254195168230590?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/8429254195168230590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/8429254195168230590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#8429254195168230590' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-6424873705080509910</id><published>2009-12-08T12:15:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T12:16:48.988+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm gonna be fine, I'm gonna be fine, I'm gonna be fine, I'm gonna be fine, I'm gonna be fine, I'm gonna be fine, I'm gonna be fine, I'm gonna be fine, I'm gonna be fine, I'm gonna be fine, I'm gonna be fine, I'm gonna be fine, I'm gonna be fine, I'm gonna be fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COME ON, it's just a stupid critique session and presentation. How many of these have I already done for the past 3 years?!!! It's not even the final presentation for FYP... Just a stupid 10% one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I'm gonna be alright.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-6424873705080509910?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/6424873705080509910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/6424873705080509910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#6424873705080509910' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-93028457061241750</id><published>2009-12-05T23:08:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T23:20:32.804+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today was horrible ;(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not because horrible things happened, but because it was horribly nice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing is..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TODAY I ATE SO MUCH RUBBISH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All those things I said about not eating so much junk... See I just broke my so-called resolution. I had mcdonald's breakfast in the morning, and then all those oily stuffs at 85 in the night. And those food at 85 made me SO. FULL. I felt so paranoid afterwards, I kept thinking that I suddenly grew extra lumps of meat (HAHA YAAA LA STUPID I KNOW).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, because of that, I went jogging later in the night. AND I'M PROUD TO SAY THAT I didn't give up jogging halfway like I always did. I actually completed what I wanted to jog, so YAYYYY. Accomplishment!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.......... I'm damn hungry now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-93028457061241750?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/93028457061241750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/93028457061241750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#93028457061241750' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-5697441158288090489</id><published>2009-12-05T23:08:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T23:08:22.017+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='*'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Just this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's gonna be okay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-5697441158288090489?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/5697441158288090489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/5697441158288090489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#5697441158288090489' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-3363117469026326409</id><published>2009-12-03T02:47:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T02:49:06.619+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>SHHH. I know I'm supposed to be sleeping but... sadoijasdoaijsd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a shade of hot pink nail polish which makes me elated when I paint them on my nails. I'm going to do that tomorrow. And Jasmin is coming over!!! YAY! To do work/study, of course. HAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK I better sleep now, for real, or I won't be able to get up in time tomorrow. Every minute I'm sitting here makes me feel like I'm betraying my body and skin. I feel so bad to them for treating them like this :'(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TATA.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-3363117469026326409?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3363117469026326409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3363117469026326409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#3363117469026326409' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-3902876605652847329</id><published>2009-12-03T01:00:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T01:13:12.666+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/IMG_5200.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My failed attempt at taking a photo of the moon :'(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still doing my work halfheartedly. I'm trying to find some kind of joy in doing it but I can't. Seriously... screw this shit. I wanna get it over and done with. OK I should REALLY stop thinking about it, maybe I'll feel better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IT'S GONNA BE FUNNNNN. Design rocks... my ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There. Maybe now I'll like it more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PDOKSADPOKASPODKASPODKPOSDKPASODKASDASDoIDJASI&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-3902876605652847329?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3902876605652847329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3902876605652847329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#3902876605652847329' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-5233300583094748308</id><published>2009-12-01T17:00:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T17:05:47.432+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I know the New Year isn't here yet, but I have 3 resolutions:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- PRACTICE MY SNARE ROLLS. I have the shittiest rolls on earth, trust me. I feel so ashamed when I'm asked to roll on the snare.&lt;br /&gt;- Start eating more fruits and vegetables and stop eating so much of those junk.&lt;br /&gt;- S t o p. P r o c r a s t i n a t i n g.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-5233300583094748308?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/5233300583094748308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/5233300583094748308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#5233300583094748308' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-831146633685056014</id><published>2009-12-01T12:08:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T12:13:29.143+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 22px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“ When you talk about love, it seems to me that you’re talking about all that romantic stuff – stomach churning like you’re on a rollercoaster ride, moonlight and roses and all that. But real, married love is something else. It’s the deepest friendship of your life. It’s the safest place you know – it’s the home of your heart. It is where you are utterly yourself and completely loved, and in return you offer love, tolerance, respect and trust, Yes, it is an enormous task, and many, many marriages are not lived that way and never can be, and they won’t last, but it’s what you must aim for, or what’s the point? Those things – love, trust and respect - don’t just come from your emotions, the fickle feelings of desiring someone, or feeling cross or tired, or excited. It comes from your will because you can make yourself love someone – and believe me, there are times when you have to work very hard to keep on loving, when things are difficult and money is tight or when the other person is behaving like a mule – and from your heart, because that’s where your goodness resides. ” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-831146633685056014?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/831146633685056014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/831146633685056014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#831146633685056014' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-8060856718812593761</id><published>2009-12-01T01:03:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T01:09:15.965+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='*'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>For the paper roses, the letters, the stickers, the night conversations, the songs you played and sang for me, the times of comfort and reassurance, the support, the help, the listening ear, that phone call,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for making me feel like I'm the most wonderful and deserving person, for remembering me in such a beautiful way, for giving me the chance to even step into your life when you tried closing everyone else out, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You deserve so much more than just this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-8060856718812593761?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/8060856718812593761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/8060856718812593761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#8060856718812593761' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-3325649821547087975</id><published>2009-11-30T12:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T12:38:26.104+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='*'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>L,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/30.jpg"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-3325649821547087975?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3325649821547087975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3325649821547087975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#3325649821547087975' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-1433349748306204404</id><published>2009-11-29T23:52:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T00:13:56.858+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='percussion'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>85 with the Bedok people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;, I FEEL SO DAMN GUILTY FOR EATING ALL THESE. Like, horrible =( I want to go exercise with the percussionists, but so far we've only talked about our plans to exercise and we've never done them. HAHAHA. The only thing we've talked about AND done is..... Eating nice food, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK must go exercise. Or jogging. Whatever helps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're starting to plan for the BBQ already! YAY! So excited, I can't wait for X'mas =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-1433349748306204404?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/1433349748306204404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/1433349748306204404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#1433349748306204404' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-726920028853481823</id><published>2009-11-29T22:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T22:15:04.587+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='*'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I think I hurt people too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;=(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-726920028853481823?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/726920028853481823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/726920028853481823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#726920028853481823' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-7022203033485836830</id><published>2009-11-29T03:33:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T03:37:43.876+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Tonight was nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The loud laughters, funny (and not-so-funny) jokes in the middle of the night, TEHHH TARIK! &amp; indian food (again).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOSS GROW FATTER QUICK :D Hope we can really get some exercising done tomorrow morning... And AI tomorrow! Tata, need to shower and sleep, my pimples are popping out five at a time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-7022203033485836830?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7022203033485836830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7022203033485836830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#7022203033485836830' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-1241616418433906539</id><published>2009-11-27T14:39:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-27T14:50:27.094+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Going to spend a lazy Friday at home today, I want to paint my nails :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-1241616418433906539?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/1241616418433906539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/1241616418433906539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#1241616418433906539' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-2827949506511310805</id><published>2009-11-26T23:00:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T23:53:20.373+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='*'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I read my blog archives today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why I read them, I just felt like it. And I wished I could go back to those times of going out with random people till midnight, talking on phone from midnight till the wee hours of the morning, and then heading out for mcdonald's breakfast together, and school after that. Hanging out with Samuel in town and random places with Starbucks, and then eating weird flavoured muffins and laughing about anything and EVERYTHING. Doing silly things for a guy, sewing at the airport, putting feelings and efforts into something which never really turned out right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas parties, feeling like everything is right and that nothing would go wrong. Practising Brazilian Street Dance (I sure miss that), laughing manically at stupid but funny things with Benson, practising Theatre Music, being naive, having Jasmin around in TP...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I guess it's not like as if I hate my life now. Of course I don't ;) The percussionists are way closer than how we used to be in the past, I've finally decided what to do with my life (though I'm still slightly doubtful), Christmas is coming and there are things planned, I don't have any of those weird relationship problems, and, well... I guess I'm grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I really do miss the people from the past, and I miss being in the past, thinking that the world is beautiful, the skies are blue, the grass is green, and that there are butterflies everywhere (just a metaphor, don't bother trying to decode my words). I've always told Boss that that's what I think of the world and that I don't want it to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet slowly but surely, as I meet new people, there are always bound to be those that always disappoint. Those that make the rest of the world look horrible and ugly, those that make you lose hope and courage. And what I hate about it is that they will affect your life more than you affect theirs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my point is... I don't want to be affected by them anymore. But I do want them to carry around this guilt, until they finally figure out their mistakes and change. I sound mean but.. What the hell. The world would be so much better without people who hurt other people. Sometimes I really want to reach out and SHAKE those people HARD, and then proceed to give them a punch on their faces. Why can't everyone just be nice??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I'm making any sense here. OK It's getting late, I'm going to make a call and wash up and go to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good night world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-2827949506511310805?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2827949506511310805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2827949506511310805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#2827949506511310805' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-3603665279949815776</id><published>2009-11-26T21:32:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T21:38:21.886+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='percussion'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Guess what I got today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00481.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kudos to Joel for the design! I cannot wait to see Boss wear this. Hehehe. The words are really pink-er than they look here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had shaker fries today, Ervina accompanied me. And then I felt so guilty that I decided to walk all the way back home. IT'S A FRIDAY TOMORROW!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-3603665279949815776?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3603665279949815776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3603665279949815776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#3603665279949815776' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-871206821086846238</id><published>2009-11-26T12:36:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T12:39:31.168+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00436.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00438.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got another pretty blue rose last night. Thank you =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp; Today I woke up and ate Mcdonald's breakfast (!!!) Now I'm feeling damn sleepy and lazy and I don't feel like doing my work but I only have 5 hours left, so.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARGH.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-871206821086846238?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/871206821086846238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/871206821086846238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#871206821086846238' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-5019374149193138227</id><published>2009-11-26T01:15:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T01:17:00.065+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm not stupid anymore. Remember that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear I will bite the hell out of anyone who dares to try the same thing on me twice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I dunno why I used bite, it sounds spastic HAHA)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you've failed me once, don't even try to get close to me ever again. That's the last thing I want.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-5019374149193138227?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/5019374149193138227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/5019374149193138227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#5019374149193138227' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-9109303678166361907</id><published>2009-11-24T23:01:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T23:47:06.946+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today, another failed attempt at studying/doing work. This is bad... Anyhow, I'll be giving it another try tomorrow. It HAS to work out. I've got consultation on Thursday!! The library's project room is WAY too cold to study in, so I guess we'll have to try other places or alternatives :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think right now, it isn't the time yet. And I don't know when it will be, but it doesn't feel like soon. I guess... I'm too fickle to even decide on anything like that. Me being me like that will only hurt other people. But I know one day, something that feels right will come along. So till then =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;OH BTW, WE HAVE OUR OWN TP PERC BLOG&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://tp-percussion.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;CLICK! :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-9109303678166361907?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/9109303678166361907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/9109303678166361907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#9109303678166361907' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-9019343121214747788</id><published>2009-11-23T02:01:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T03:04:11.446+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='percussion'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00234.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00238.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00243.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00248.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00255.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok apparently I am too lazy to resize and edit the rest because IT'S LIKE 2AM NOW, I spent like 2 hours doing all the photos for todaaaayyy and I want to sleep :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND! Today's photos! Only a handful of them (5) but as you can see....... Too much nonsense HAHAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00356.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00361.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00365.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00369.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00364.jpg"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-9019343121214747788?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/9019343121214747788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/9019343121214747788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#9019343121214747788' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-7732487249510868463</id><published>2009-11-23T00:05:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T00:07:08.510+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>O K A Y, I'm back here! HAHA. I still like it here the most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna blog the concert's photos and TODAY's photos soon. We took so many photos today that they're flooding my photoshop so I've got to go edit them nOWWW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-7732487249510868463?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7732487249510868463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7732487249510868463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#7732487249510868463' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-2132916318184143170</id><published>2009-11-21T14:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T23:57:54.000+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='band'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='percussion'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC00294.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I did enjoy myself. All the shifting, taking of photos, crazy nonsensical things that happened, supper till 1am, PERCUSSION ENSEMBLE, mistakes, etc, and I do wish that I could rewind all of that and do it all over again and again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, IT’S OVER and every time a big band event is over, I feel like I have no motivation for school anymore. And we got a 2 weeks break from band but WHYYY must we have breaks! I can’t wait to get back there and start practising instead of going back to school for FYP -_- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, about last night…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/tumblr_ktg357wY2O1qzl65i.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jasmin came over early in the morning :D and then we reached school just in time for me to shift the instruments. JASMIN! I’m sorry that I totally forgot about you during and after the shifting :( I only remembered when we were on the bus. And.. AHHH sorry that what you wanted to do (at my hse) didn’t work!! I was supposed to help you with it but.. :x I think I didn’t really do much. Next time if we have more time I willlllll okay! Hopefully we have another big event soon HAHA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IT’S REALLY NICE TO SEE AND TALK TO HER! Though I think we are both slowly but surely accumulating bad karma :x&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OKay and then.. the rehearsing at VCH. And somehow the time just flashed by and it was performance already. I tried really really hard to clear my mind and not think about what notes I should hit and which hand should play first. So magically when I was supposed to play… I GOT IT RIGHT! HAHA okay la not all of it, though.. I do wish that my practising came into use more. My mind just kinda blanked and I forgot a lot of it when I was actually performing. And I kept losing count during pieces so when I looked at Ervina, she would mouth to me the number of bars HAHAHA. Or I would look at her fingers to see which bar it was (we planned :x).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then La Storia.. =( I don’t even wanna talk about it. The hi-hat somehow just seemed weird so I decided to fix it, thinking that I had plenty of time. And then the snare was so noisy so I turned it off. AND THEN… somehow it seemed like it was like past my turn to play already! So I stopped fixing the hi-hat and played and… the snare was off -_- AHHH I hate making that mistake! aosidJSdsoJASd&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to say though, surprisingly I wasn’t as nervous as I thought I’d be, even though this is only like… my 2nd time playing drums on stage. It was scary but at least I wasn’t trembling and that’s grrreeaaat :D HAHA. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND PERC ENSEMBLE was what I was really really waiting for. The stunt which we managed to pull off in the beginning, the sneaky smiles HAHA, the shouting, boss dropping his stick HAHAHA. It’d have been really cool if he had a spare one in his pocket! Anyway.. The ensemble was great. Fun :D And I really really love these people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OKAY enough about Avec. I’m seeing more of these lovely section mates tonight hahaha. So YAY! Later!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH AND anyway… The blue rose was from a friend and I have to say, the rose is really really beautiful, the petals looked nearly perfectly arranged and of course, IT’S A BEAUTIFUL SHADE OF BLUE! Thank you for the rose =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to Nat for the cookies YAY! And Wei Lung for the chocolates for the section, Matin, Conrad, and the other people for coming down, Yong Lin for the hand sanitizer (HAHAHA) and the notes you wrote for me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This entry is getting way too long so TATA! =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-2132916318184143170?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2132916318184143170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2132916318184143170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#2132916318184143170' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-5464217376086389068</id><published>2009-09-06T01:45:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T01:47:16.876+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://memoriesque.tumblr.com/"&gt;Moved.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hehehe yes, the memoriesque still remains =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-5464217376086389068?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/5464217376086389068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/5464217376086389068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_09_01_archive.html#5464217376086389068' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-7536579378414919012</id><published>2009-09-03T00:47:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T00:50:04.329+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='quotes'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 22px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;"We all have the potential to fall in love a thousand times in our lifetime. It’s easy. They all count. But there are certain people you love who do something else; they define how you classify what love is supposed to feel like. These are the most important people in your life, and you’ll meet maybe four or five of these people over the span of 80 years. But there’s still one more tier to all this; there is always one person you love who becomes that definition. It usually happens retrospectively, but it happens eventually. This is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love about other people, even if some of these loveable qualities are self-destructive and unreasonable. The person who defines your understanding of love is not inherently different than anyone else, and they’re often just the person you happen to meet the first time you really, really, want to love someone. But that person still wins. They win, and you lose. Because for the rest of your life, they will control how you feel about everyone else."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://runawaytrain.tumblr.com"&gt;source.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-7536579378414919012?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7536579378414919012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7536579378414919012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_09_01_archive.html#7536579378414919012' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-5773762355376673359</id><published>2009-09-02T00:02:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T01:56:24.631+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fashion'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Back to blogging! After a loooong break from it :) Heheee and here's a really cute thing I'm gonna share:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;So why dress up? Here are 25 good reasons.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Because life’s too short to blend in. Don’t settle for average.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Because you’re only young once. You’re way more gorgeous than you know &amp;amp; have a fabulous body you’ll one day look back on and wish you had! Take advantage now and show off how fabulous you can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Because fashion is a method of self expression. What are you trying to say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Because you never know who you’ll run into. Brad Pitt at the grocery store? Hey, stranger things have happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Because it obviously annoys some people (like the guy who asks why YOU are so dressed up). The fact that it annoys them so much is all the more reason to keep doing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Because you never know, there’s always a chance you could get snapped by The Sartorialist (or maybe the girls over at Street Spotted)!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Because you deserve to look your best at all times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Because you’ll never improve your sense of style if your default look is “I give up”. Yes, that was a Seinfeld reference. But it’s true!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Because dressing up helps you weed out friends who don’t love you for you. If they have a problem with the way you dress, they’re not the kind of friends you want around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Because cute clothes and accessories are a great conversation starter. Wear something fabulous and people will ask you where you got it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Because parties aren’t the only time to celebrate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Because that fabulous party dress in your closet cost too much to only be worn once. Remember cost per wear?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Because it’s fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Because even if you live in an “unstylish” city &amp;amp; are scared to dress up, cities don’t become stylish without someone going first. I know it sounds cheesy, but be the change you want to see in the world. Everyone else can follow your fabulous lead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Because dressing up helps you make fashion mistakes and get past them. Mistakes happen to everyone and that’s how you learn what not to do – get them out of the way now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Because it’s a test of your confidence. Dressing unconventionally forces you to develop the self-assurance necessary to stand out from everyone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Because fashion is one of the rare instances where art comes alive. What artistic statement do you want to make?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. Because if you’ve got it (great style, killer confidence, amazing legs), it’s just wrong not to flaunt it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Because someday when you have a 9-5 corporate job and are required to wear business suits, you’re going to miss the freedom of dress you had in college. Experiment now! There’s no better time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Because glamour isn’t only reserved for the rich and famous, even though maybe they’d like you to believe it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. Because if conspiracy theorists are to be believed, the world might end on 12/31/2012 – that’s only 1211 days from now! Even though we all worried about Y2K too, why not be on the safe side? Don’t spend the theoretical 1211 days you have left in sweats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. Because Carrie Bradshaw would not approve of your sweatpants and UGG boots. You can do better than that. And deep down, you know I’m right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. Because dressing well means you don’t have to do your hair at all – you’ll have that ultra fabulous, slightly disheveled Kate Moss look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. Because nothing beats the rush you feel when you look in the mirror and LOVE what you see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. Because you want to. That’s the only reason that matters.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.collegefashion.net/"&gt;source!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P/s: I just had iced earl vanilla @ the Coffee Club AND it's so yummy! Going to try to stop my mocha addiction.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-5773762355376673359?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/5773762355376673359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/5773762355376673359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_09_01_archive.html#5773762355376673359' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-8490926264542967988</id><published>2009-08-11T00:26:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-11T00:28:53.730+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/quote149.jpg"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-8490926264542967988?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/8490926264542967988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/8490926264542967988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_08_01_archive.html#8490926264542967988' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-7056693814460653858</id><published>2009-07-25T22:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T22:05:52.185+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/c3LK9DFd8pk5hv0y6Z9RRZsDo1_500.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/IMG_4026.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/IMG_4040.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/IMG_4034.jpg"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Photos from ervina (: Haha. Internship's starting in about 2 days and I don't know what to do.. Feels scary just thinking about it. I really hope I won't be late. It's going to be tough waking up so early and taking the same train with the morning crowd. Right now all I want to do is to enjoy tonight + sunday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-7056693814460653858?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7056693814460653858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7056693814460653858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_07_01_archive.html#7056693814460653858' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-6216715494927200588</id><published>2009-07-22T13:34:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T13:37:14.473+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/asasd.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/IMG_3943.jpg"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOOOOK. I made the photo look like it was taken with film. Am I amazing or what... HAHAHA. Photoshop is sooo useful and fun. Ok I need to get back to work.. &amp; I wished that everyone would be honest and kind hearted when they sell things online but apparently not. I can't really expect the best out of some stranger I don't know right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-6216715494927200588?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/6216715494927200588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/6216715494927200588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_07_01_archive.html#6216715494927200588' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-3014740118099638522</id><published>2009-07-18T22:46:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T22:49:56.920+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/top-five-sunglasses-header1.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;credits &lt;a href="http://www.whowhatwear.com/"&gt;x&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at the first pair of shades...Sooo pretty. :) :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried cleaning up my room (again) and ended up with a pile of mess &amp; everything else looking the same (again)...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-3014740118099638522?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3014740118099638522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3014740118099638522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_07_01_archive.html#3014740118099638522' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-69405470969545114</id><published>2009-07-18T00:05:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T00:08:17.843+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='percussion'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/quote48.jpg"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Food for thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today the crazy percussionists made me so TIREDDDD. All the laughing and shouting and hitting.. Ok I need to sleeeepp!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-69405470969545114?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/69405470969545114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/69405470969545114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_07_01_archive.html#69405470969545114' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-664202882874199307</id><published>2009-07-16T19:56:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T00:06:24.994+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/quote42.jpg"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHA. I went to photobucket and got so many rubbish-y quotes and this one was so funnyyy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay anyway.. ONE MORE WEEK TO SIP! I can't wait to start and yet I'm scared as well. Ok. Shall not think about it. My ideas got approved btw! Worth a celebration HAHA. I'm going to continue watching The O.C now! I still like Gossip Girl better, at least I can look at their fashion too. O.C is like... so many years ago and look old-fashioned as compared to GG. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oooook tata!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-664202882874199307?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/664202882874199307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/664202882874199307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_07_01_archive.html#664202882874199307' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-4545925332508386642</id><published>2009-07-09T02:31:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T00:11:23.583+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='percussion'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/DSC03209copy-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a quick post before I head off to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Photo by cynthia! Before our performance. Look at boss. He looks like some sushi master in a japanese restaurant :X and OKAY I REALLY NEED TO SLEEP.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-4545925332508386642?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/4545925332508386642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/4545925332508386642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_07_01_archive.html#4545925332508386642' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-3349947038838868845</id><published>2009-07-07T00:36:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T00:52:11.189+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='percussion'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today, woke up and dragged myself to school, sat in a class filled with strangers, tried and pretended to listen to a lecture while thinking how screwed I am. At least I didn't doodle sad faces on my notes today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And after that, SIP briefing and BAAANDDD PRAAAC!! You see, it's so nice to have friends from other schools because then, I can always ask them to teach me when it comes to CDS and stuff. It's sad to say that this current CDS feels like tamil to me because I have no idea what it is about. I'm afraid that I have been traumatised and this will leave in a mark in my life for a long time. I have NO idea how I am going to even pass this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, talk about something happier. Somehow we broke 3 sticks today, one of which was boss' favourite timp stick HAHAHA. The other one was my favourite marimba stick :( Soon, we're going to have a collection of colourful single mallet sticks because apparently sticks don't break in pairs (and I wish they do). And then we went all high and decided to trick joel by sticking the broken mallet stick together and leaving it by the vibes. Then we asked him to practice the percussion ensemble together and while he was playing, I could see the stick bending bit by bit as he tries harder and harder to whack it... and at the end of the piece, he wanted to tell us something and he shook the stick and TA DAAAHHH! It broke into 2! :X&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to rest now. I need all the energy I can get for tomorrow's lecture and performance. I think band practice today just drained mine, so I don't have the mental capacity to think about how to complete a certain essay for a certain CDS by this wednesday. But I can procrastinate. I'm pretty good at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gd night world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-3349947038838868845?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3349947038838868845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3349947038838868845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_07_01_archive.html#3349947038838868845' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-3613808823507962448</id><published>2009-07-06T01:36:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T01:48:28.946+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>K I'm back... But only because I wanted to post this up. And only because I'm kind of bored because I'm SO not looking forward to morning class tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm having this CDS class this block, and the lecturer is really nice and all. But just the other day, I was late for class and realised that before I reached, the class had somehow came to an agreement that the group I was in (3 people) should be split up. Of course, without my consent because I was late la.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then just before the class ended, I spoke to the lecturer privately and said that I didn't like that idea of us being split up, because we didn't know anyone else in the groups which we were separately assigned to. So he spoke to the class AND he just HAD to keep going, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't want anyone to think that I'm being unfair. But now someone in this class thinks that I am."&lt;br /&gt;"Just now when we were discussing, we should have all voiced out instead of keeping quiet. Now we have to sort this out again!"&lt;br /&gt;"If you are unhappy, tell me. We can all work this out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BLAH BLAH BLAH. And no one else knew I was the one who spoke to the lecturer. So after asking the class what he can do and stuff, he looked at me and went, "So is this OK with you, Jasmine?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you very much, now the whole class is going to blame me for being such an asshole for keeping them back after class ended. And after class ended, I spoke to the lecturer again regarding the arrangements which we were going to make and he STILL HAD TO KEEP MENTIONING,"Next time, say it earlier. Then we won't have to go through all this..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did me mentioning it later than usual really BUG you THAT much??????? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went,"No. I came to class late and didn't get to participate in that discussion." And he was like,"Oh." Oh. Yes oh, thank you for making me sound like a total loser in front of everyone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;K going to bed now, I don't want to be late for class tomorrow and miss other little discussions we're going to have. Other than that, he's a pretty nice guy, really.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-3613808823507962448?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3613808823507962448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/3613808823507962448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_07_01_archive.html#3613808823507962448' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-8040651860507503645</id><published>2009-02-19T21:34:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T21:36:35.985+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://memoriesque.livejournal.com"&gt;http://memoriesque.livejournal.com&lt;/a&gt; (for easy clickable access)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;don't have to update any of your links. (: it was just a random spontaneous action, i might do it again someday. HAHA.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-8040651860507503645?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/8040651860507503645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/8040651860507503645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html#8040651860507503645' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-1480879296772251959</id><published>2009-02-15T23:24:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T23:25:14.374+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i like nights like these, when you're around.&lt;br /&gt;because it makes me feel less lonely when i'm staying up to do my work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-1480879296772251959?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/1480879296772251959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/1480879296772251959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html#1480879296772251959' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-2874101962817575113</id><published>2009-02-15T12:14:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T12:18:10.388+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photographs'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/Photo542.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is lester &amp; as you can see, he likes to take photos. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/Photo543.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D i'm drink soya milk noowww. hair please grow faster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;.&lt;br /&gt;i will do my work.&lt;br /&gt;i will do my work.&lt;br /&gt;i will do my work.&lt;br /&gt;i will do my work.&lt;br /&gt;i will do my work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i will not procrastinate.&lt;br /&gt;i will not procrastinate.&lt;br /&gt;i will not procrastinate.&lt;br /&gt;i will not procrastinate.&lt;br /&gt;i will not procrastinate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i will not play my brother's DS. (ok maybe play a bit)&lt;br /&gt;i will not play my brother's DS for too long.&lt;br /&gt;i will not play my brother's DS for too long.&lt;br /&gt;i will not play my brother's DS for too long.&lt;br /&gt;i will not play my brother's DS for too long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am sleepy.&lt;br /&gt;i am sleepy.&lt;br /&gt;i am sleepy.&lt;br /&gt;i am sleepy.&lt;br /&gt;i am sleepy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-2874101962817575113?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2874101962817575113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2874101962817575113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html#2874101962817575113' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-6458388411576584989</id><published>2009-02-15T00:10:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T00:23:29.917+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lester'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photographs'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>:D HAPPY VDAY EVERYONEEEE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i went out with lester wester tdy &amp; i gave him Poo! :D but he says he's going to hug Poo more then ME so hmpf. hahaha &amp; i got a box full of CUTESY STUFF. which i like. (: &amp; there's a pouch which has flapping ears!! so cool. i'm gonna bring it to school to show everyone HAHA :x&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/vday.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we had kfc, because my mum said that she was going to eat kfc with my bro to celebrate vday tog. so after hearing that, i got jealous &amp; craved for it too. hahahaha. ANDDD starbucks. and i haven't tried the new mcflurry! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;. going out with lester tdy made me feel like i just fell in love with him all over again. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;haha okay lester, here's your suprise :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/twinlomo0.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/twinlomo1.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/twinlomo2.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/twinlomo3.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/twinlomo4.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/twinlomo5.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/twinlomo6.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;these photos were taken WAAAY back, the first time when i just cut my bangs. i never got to developing them because developing films are SO expensive. i think this batch got up to $20?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if anyone's wondering why the photos appear in pairs, it's because that's how the camera works. it's the twin lens one which i bought like, last yr? &amp; only got to using it once where i took most of the photos indoors and the photos turned out really sucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so this batch of photographs REALLY SUPRISED ME :D i liked them so much, the colours &amp; all. i always thought it was a lousy bimbotic camera (cos it looks cute/pretty and all!) but it proved me wrong this time :D HAHA. pretty photos make me happy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-6458388411576584989?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/6458388411576584989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/6458388411576584989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html#6458388411576584989' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-979277556473574167</id><published>2009-02-13T20:02:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T20:03:04.603+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i'm going to drink a lot of soya bean &amp; eat a lot of yoghurts. i read it up online &amp; they say protein helps to make hair GROW FASTER! hahahaha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-979277556473574167?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/979277556473574167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/979277556473574167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html#979277556473574167' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-9108927949292214889</id><published>2009-02-13T14:05:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T14:13:10.245+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i've been lazing around like a pig tdy since i woke up. i played the noob's ds, ate some chocolates and random food (so random that i feel like puking right now), and sat in front of cupcake to waste some time. in fact, i've wasted enough time so after this, i shall go shower, change, &amp; HEAD FOR SCHOOOOL! (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yesterday's consultation was alright, suprisingly. that night before the consultation, i was DREAMING of concepts. now i know what people mean when they say "do design, eat design, dream design" or something along those lines. literally DREAM design. i was so desperate for ideas/concepts that i even thought about them (and i was subconscious, i remembered i had some concepts i could use but i forgot them the moment i woke up) &amp; there was even a point where i dreamt that pat accepted my concept (YAY!) and i even said "yes!!" out loud, and then after which i realised i was dreaming &gt;.&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but anyway, YAY! i can start working on thumbnails (: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND. phy gave me a pair of the gir earstuds! :D SUPER ADORABLEEE! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yesterday night was spent at the library, me being unproductive (as usual) and the rest doing work/reading. and we had prata for supper :D so niceee. i WILL do my work. promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;shower time!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-9108927949292214889?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/9108927949292214889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/9108927949292214889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html#9108927949292214889' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-1346525004286484750</id><published>2009-02-12T22:38:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T22:44:12.347+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Your qualification is only your back-up, your life is like plain, soft cookie dough at the start that turns to different flavours and shapes as you and other people shape it. But in the end, it's ultimately your hand that makes the choice of what it ends up being like, whether it's going to stay stereo-typically round or square because you're afraid of change or shaped into something nasty like a maggot or beautiful like a Jasmine."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-1346525004286484750?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/1346525004286484750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/1346525004286484750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html#1346525004286484750' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-6160034044447065866</id><published>2009-02-11T21:29:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T21:38:03.982+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lester'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:50;"&gt;happy birthday &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:45;"&gt;lester the smelly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i love yoooouu, &amp;amp; happy 4th month! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yippee yay. double celebration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we went to bedok 85 tdy! &amp;amp; had ba chor mee, fried oyster, hums, chicken wings, &amp;amp; lime juice to wash it all dwn. i'm REALLY full now and i would puke if i see any food in front of me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND. hehehe i lied to lester that his present was a palm-sized one. in the end he had to carry a huge box with some super heavy library book back home. pooor baby. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hah okay. shower, rest, do work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and btw i've made up my mind to pin up my fringe until it looks decent enough, 'cos my mum tried to cut my fringe yesterday night (she said mine looked weird so she wanted to "layer" it for me) and it turned out to be a DISASTER. i look stupid now. like really stupid. i'm never gonna cut bangs EVER again. HAIR please faster grow! argh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-6160034044447065866?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/6160034044447065866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/6160034044447065866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html#6160034044447065866' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-8717518326329090083</id><published>2009-02-07T01:47:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T02:01:53.151+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photographs'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/S6301364.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HELLOOOOO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm very excited about tomorrow because i haven't taken photos with lester for very long AND TMR I WILL GET THE CHANCE TO!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;haha okay anyway...&lt;br /&gt;i'm starting to get used to school. and i'm going to make myself read up design books. many many. i think exposure is really v impt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND. haha talking with jasmin v fun. HAHAHA.&lt;br /&gt;and i haven't been in the same class as phyllicia for VERYYY long so it makes class more fun :D HAha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't know wht else to blog about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OHOH BTWWWW. kenneth is BAAAACKKKKKK. and guess what, he brought back presents for us and i got a pretty starry bracelet! (!!) :D another bracelet to add to my whole collection of accessories HAHAHA. &amp; i think kenneth has the ability to get nice present for girls because like many many mths ago when i went walking around with him &amp; weizhen, he saw this starry necklace and he showed me &amp; said,"this looks like something you would wear." i took a glance at it and up to this day i still remember how it looks like because IT WAS NICE AND PRETTY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pretty stuffs make me happpppppyyyyy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-8717518326329090083?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/8717518326329090083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/8717518326329090083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html#8717518326329090083' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-9195835101394147213</id><published>2009-01-31T23:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T23:54:15.001+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>looking at the macau's photos make me feel like eating the sour chewy gummy bears from the natural.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-9195835101394147213?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/9195835101394147213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/9195835101394147213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_01_01_archive.html#9195835101394147213' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-7066484579659910229</id><published>2009-01-31T21:59:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T22:33:07.193+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holiday'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photographs'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>photos from macaaauuuu! all taken by the noob :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/macau1.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay this was the first day at night when we went to explore.. there were pretty cny decorations! noob took photos of them but i'm too lazy to put them up here..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OKKK pretty sight coming up!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/macau2.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LO AND BEHOLDDDD hahaha. isn't it a wonderful sight. macau's full of really beautiful architecture and this is just one of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok anyway about this.. it's actually the front of a church. my cousin told me that this church was on fire many years ago and the body of the church got burnt, leaving the front which didn't get burnt (&amp; i don't know why) so it's kinda like a tourist attraction. this that used to be a cathedral, is now called the ruins of st paul's and IT'S REALLY PRETTY AND HUGE! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it used to be the largest catholic church in asia at that time, don't know if it still is now, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/macau3.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hehehe piggybackkk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANOTHERRRR PRETTY SIGHTTT! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/macau4.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(if i'm not wrong), this is the venetian hotel. this whole hotel basically.. revolves around the theme 'venice'. so the architecture kinda explains it all.. i think it looks like a really pretty castle :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my cousin's friend told me tht they (the hotel ppl) even hired singers from foreign countries to sing as they row in boats (!!!) in the water/lake/whatever &amp; SHE WANTED TO BRING MEEEE but the adults wanted to go to the casino so... ya lo. awww i can imagine how pretty the whole image will be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OKAYYY last pretty sight and this is the best i promise :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/macau5.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TADAHHh :D i really like this, but i've no idea which part of the hotel this was in because i wasn't around when noob took this.. &amp; i really think it looks like some sort of castle and IT'S BREATHTAKINGGLYYYY beautiful. really, macau's architectures amaze me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/macau6.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;next morning, we watched and heard (with our hands over our ears) the firecrackers. THEY'RE REALLY REALLY LOUDDD. and smelly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp; then we went on a shopping trip at a part of china (i think). i don't know how the routes work and i didn't know which part of where i was, most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/macau7.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/macau8.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/macau9.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my faithful gummies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp; then..NIGHTTIMEEEE. (:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/macau10.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/macau11.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/macau12.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/macau13.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hahaha ok no more, i need to shower nw!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-7066484579659910229?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7066484579659910229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/7066484579659910229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_01_01_archive.html#7066484579659910229' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-259167122142219361</id><published>2009-01-31T00:16:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T00:26:43.567+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photographs'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i snuggled in my bed &amp; blanket w my ipod of songs and when i got up, i still felt.. urgh so groggy. i think i'm a little better now but i'm SO afraid to fall really sick.. MUST BE THE CNY SNACKS :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;actually i think it was the sweets. when the plane was reaching sg, i KEPT munching and chewing on those gummies &amp; sweets NON STOP cos i hated the ear block so i kept chewing and chewing.. and there was no water. after awhile my throat got a lil dry and uh oh.. a lil painful. like pre-sorethroat feeling. &amp; when i reached home i saw the ba kwa on the table and yes you guessed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so the next day i had a sorethroat and until tdy it recovered a lil, but i'm having some sort of.. weird sickness. there's a feeling near my throat which makes it a little difficult to breathe &amp; i don't know how to explain it. plus with the coughing and stuff. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then in the afternoon mum wanted us to go visiting cos she said it was too late to wait for other days. so i kept telling her "later must drive me to school on time! cannot late, must reach before 6 blah blah.." so we reached my aunt's place (at toa payo, dunno how to spell), SUPER FARRR and after a while i felt a lil hot and i turned to my brother and asked him whether he was feeling hot too and he was like,"no". and i had the difficult to breathe feeling again AHH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but true to her word, my mum wanted to leave at about 430 so we went off and on the way i turned to her and asked,"feel my head can? am i having a fever?" she said no leh, not hot. then she said,"why your lips suddenly so pale. don't go school la, still want to go. later you faint in school i still have to go fetch you, so troublesome. everytime your lips pale means you going to fall sick alr, don't go."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;which i'm glad i didn't because i felt like.. breathless on the way home and at home. seriously WHAT KIND OF SICKNESS IS THISSSS. ok anyway...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/brohaha1.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/brohaha2.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/brohaha3.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/brohaha4.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/brohaha5.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my bed is calling me. plain water is my best friend now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-259167122142219361?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/259167122142219361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/259167122142219361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_01_01_archive.html#259167122142219361' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-1133679003751999131</id><published>2009-01-29T20:45:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T21:49:30.967+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photographs'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/babycuz1.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THIS IS MY TODDLERRR COUSIN. she's uberly cute but she has only knows one pose when she takes photographs, which is the above :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/babycuz2.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;told you. hahahaha. SO CUTEEE right!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/babycuz3.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/babycuz4.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok different pose nw!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/babycuz5.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;her two older brothers kept disturbing her and blocking her view when she wanted to camwhore using my photobooth. then she got very frustrated &amp; started frowning like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/babycuz6.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hehehe so cuteeee. her mum came in &amp; when she saw, she told me,"she v vain hoh." HAHAHA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/babycuz7.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay last one! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm on phone with lester wester nw and he's making WEEEEIRD noises!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-1133679003751999131?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/1133679003751999131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/1133679003751999131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_01_01_archive.html#1133679003751999131' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-4472684892594585080</id><published>2009-01-28T23:25:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T23:31:31.080+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>-i really don't know how people can find so many things to blog about everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-i'm supposed to be packing my room cos the relatives are coming over for dinner tomorrow BUT I HAVEN'T STARTED. my room is 120919212x messier than yours, cfm. but cfm less messy than lester's. HAHAHA. he lives in a pig sty. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-i'm GOING TO CHANGE MY PARTING BACK, i don't care how funny my hair looks.. anyhow it's got to look better than how it did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-SCHOOL REOPENING NEXT WEEEEEK :( but it's okay cos i'm looking forward to teh/teh peng breaks hehehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-i just ate this.. delifrance bread which was in the fridge since yesterday night and it kind of tasted a lil sour so i really hope i won't get a tummyache (ARGH) because i was hungry and the cny snacks didn't really seem that appealing..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-i played with my brother's nintendo ds and HE BROUGHT THE CHARGER BACK TO SCHOOL so apparently i can't play it anymore and it's really sad cos it kills time and WORDSEARCH IS FUN :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-i'm waiting for lazylester to call me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-OK I NEED TO PACK MY ROOM like now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-4472684892594585080?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/4472684892594585080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/4472684892594585080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_01_01_archive.html#4472684892594585080' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-5343934902203770537</id><published>2009-01-28T03:20:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T15:36:33.385+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='*'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="width:300px;"&gt;&lt;object width="300" height="110"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://media.imeem.com/m/hMG3G4Z-3W/aus=false/"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://media.imeem.com/m/hMG3G4Z-3W/aus=false/" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="300" height="110" wmode="transparent"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div style="background-color:#E6E6E6;padding:1px;"&gt;&lt;div style="float:left;padding:4px 4px 0 0;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imeem.com/"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;have you ever found out something, kind of like the truth back from the past? you know.. sometimes you somehow realise that things were actually not what you thought they were. and when that time of realisation comes, it'll make you think back on how you could have made things better, even if it's just for a teeny weeny bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and it made &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt; think of how i could have been better, even if i was too young to realise what was happening around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i didn't dare to show you how weak i was, even though you probably knew.. &amp; you probably know me even more than i myself do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;somehow it hurts when i knew how much you've given, how much you've done just to solve a problem that isn't even yours. and in the end perhaps because of that, everything just fell apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it hurts to know how much you &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;hurt&lt;/span&gt;. hurts to know that maybe you, too, want to turn back time so that everything could change. hurts to realise how much time has slipped through. hurts to know how much you've been through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i could really feel that you meant what you said, and i believed you, wholeheartedly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i just wished that i'd treasured the times with you more. everything feels different without you around. it's more empty, more quiet.. one really can never replace another, no matter how much they try. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a piece of advice, a hot cup of tea. a plate of wanton noodles, a funny joke. a prayer, warmth. a laughter, a smile. food in the middle of the night, talks in quiet voices. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it feels like time is slowing down and i can finally clearly see all that was given and shared. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's true when people say that you don't know what you've got till you lose them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;When you drop a glass or plate to the ground, it makes a loud crashing sound. When a window shatters, a table leg breaks, or a picture falls off the wall, it makes a noise. But as for your heart, when that breaks, it's completely silent. You would think as it's so important it would make the loudest noise in the whole world or even have some sort of ceremonious sound like the gong of a cymbal or the ringing of a bell. But it's silent and you almost wish there was a noise to distract you from the pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If there's a noise, it's internal. It screams and no one can hear it but you. It screams so loudly your ears ring and your head aches. It trashes around in your chest like a great white caught in the sea, it roars like a mother bear whose cub has been taken. That's what it looks like and that's what it sounds like, a trashing, panicking, trapped, great big beast, roaring like a prisoner to its own emotion. But that's the thing about love; no one is untouchable. It's as wild as that, as raw as an open flesh exposed to salty sea water, but when it actually breaks, it's silent, you're just screaming on the inside and no one can hear it.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-5343934902203770537?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/5343934902203770537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/5343934902203770537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_01_01_archive.html#5343934902203770537' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-2718788698303212335</id><published>2009-01-24T00:51:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T01:18:48.481+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lester'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i've been bugging lester for many many days to get me chewy sweets to chew on the plane (cos if it's from him then i'll think of him while chewing it! :X HAHa). and then tdy my mum said we'll be taking a boat during one of the days in hk, to dunno where so i panicked and went to get some sour gummies cos i get motion sickness v easily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; i bought this packet of gummies called The Natural. and on the packaging it said "no artificial colours, no artificial flavours, 99% fat free"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i DIDN'TTT buy it cos of the fat free thing ok! hahaha it was because of the no artificial flavours thing, which was probably the closest i could get to "sugar free" since sweet sweets always give me a headache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANYWAYYy it was sour and i was thinking like, motion sickness eat sour things will feel better so i got that for myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then tdy,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just now,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i was on phone with lester! then we were talking talking and he said,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;"i got you your chewy sweet already. hmm 99% fat free."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; then i was very excited. cos he refused to tell me what kind of chewy sweet he bought!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i kept askingggg questions to get hints HAHA. like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;"is it mint or got flavours one. i nv see mint chewy sweets before!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;"got flavours. delectable smooth banana, wild blackcurrant, juicy orange, ripe raspberry."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;"WHAT KIND OF SWEET IS IT? mentos ah!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;"nope. i wanted to get that but like abit too sweet for you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;"halls ah?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;"nope."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;"OOOH i know! ricola!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;"nope..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then he went,&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;"i shake it and let you hear."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and it kind of sounded like those sweets that comes in a box that kind of soundddd. so..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;"IS IT JELLYBEANS?!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;"nooope."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;"the packet is box one ah?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;"nope."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;"those plastic packet one?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;"ya."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;"how big is it?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;"about palm size.."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;"sugar free? i cannot find sugar free one leh"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;"nope not really.. but there's no artificial colours, no artificial flavours."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;"tell me the first alphabet of the brand!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;"cannot! later you know."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;"okay then tell me the last alphabet?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;"um.. L."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;"oooh then the second last alphabet??"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;"cannot."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;"first alphabetttt!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;"ok la. T."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then i got VERY excited. COS ALL THE DESCRIPTIONS SOUNDED SO FAMILIAR. LOL. so i rushed out of my room to find my sour chewy gummies and mine read:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE NATURAL&lt;br /&gt;NO ARTIFICIAL COLOURS&lt;br /&gt;NO ARTIFICIAL FLAVOURS&lt;br /&gt;99% FAT FREE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so i was laughing and saying, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;"OMG I KNOW WHAT SWEET YOU BOUGHT ALREADY. HAHA. omg i think we bought the same one!!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;"WHAT'S YOURS,"&lt;/span&gt; lazylester asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;"AHhh don't tell you! later same how!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so i shook the sweet to let him hear the sound and asked,&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;"does this sound the same?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then he kept asking me what sweet it was and i read out the description on mine.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;"...no artificial colours, no artificial flavours, 99% fat free."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;"is it... The Natural?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;"HAHAHAH YAAAAaa omg! AHHH."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;aww baby. telephathy HAHAHa. :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-2718788698303212335?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2718788698303212335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/2718788698303212335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_01_01_archive.html#2718788698303212335' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-5203986611368973200</id><published>2009-01-22T23:53:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T00:11:49.327+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photographs'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm231/memoriesque/Photo448.jpg" border="2px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yay :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it reads:&lt;br /&gt;IMPACT&lt;br /&gt;RED APPLE MINTS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D I LIKE. it's a lil sour and minty at the same time hahaha. AND the container very nice hehehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we had our ensemble performance tdy :) everything went pretty well i should say. AND SCHOOL'S STARTING SOOOON! gonna get busy again ):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tata! i'll be having breakfast with mum outside tmr morning! hope i wake up in timeeee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-5203986611368973200?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/5203986611368973200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/5203986611368973200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_01_01_archive.html#5203986611368973200' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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-6627957.post-113883414838599176</id><published>2009-01-20T15:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T15:03:18.136+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>YAY cynthia helped me to configure the internet settings for cupcake! :D :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6627957-113883414838599176?l=memoriesque.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/113883414838599176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6627957/posts/default/113883414838599176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesque.blogspot.com/2009_01_01_archive.html#113883414838599176' title=''/><author><name>jasmine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16013041497702839887</uri><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></feed>
