<?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-10999512</id><updated>2012-01-04T21:41:02.002+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Case of Logorrhea</title><subtitle type='html'>The Public Confessions of a Twenty-something Eccentric</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>73</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-500324120700938433</id><published>2009-05-27T02:15:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T03:58:45.852+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday</title><content type='html'>Happy birthday you. Wherever you are, I hope you are having the time of your life. I really do. There's too much words can't say. I'll keep it short. There will never be another, this much I'm certain. Thank you for making me feel the way i did and still do. Have a good one my love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-500324120700938433?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/500324120700938433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=500324120700938433&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/500324120700938433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/500324120700938433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2009/05/happy-birthday.html' title='Happy Birthday'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-8606351000046185810</id><published>2009-04-26T14:57:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T22:14:56.383+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Taipei Spring 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-d.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs007.snc1/2844_87891873632_533783632_1617411_5236776_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 399px; height: 604px;" src="http://photos-d.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs007.snc1/2844_87891873632_533783632_1617411_5236776_n.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v3343/165/88/589488017/n589488017_2467914_1429734.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 604px; height: 340px;" src="http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v3343/165/88/589488017/n589488017_2467914_1429734.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-b.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs007.snc1/2844_87891858632_533783632_1617409_4195552_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 402px; height: 604px;" src="http://photos-b.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs007.snc1/2844_87891858632_533783632_1617409_4195552_n.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v3343/165/88/589488017/n589488017_2467906_5988545.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 604px; height: 340px;" src="http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v3343/165/88/589488017/n589488017_2467906_5988545.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-f.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v3343/165/88/589488017/n589488017_2467901_2722103.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 604px; height: 453px;" src="http://photos-f.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v3343/165/88/589488017/n589488017_2467901_2722103.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v3343/165/88/589488017/n589488017_2467898_446359.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 604px; height: 453px;" src="http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v3343/165/88/589488017/n589488017_2467898_446359.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-h.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v3343/165/88/589488017/n589488017_2467887_4449753.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 604px; height: 453px;" src="http://photos-h.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v3343/165/88/589488017/n589488017_2467887_4449753.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-b.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v3343/165/88/589488017/n589488017_2467897_6962826.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 604px; height: 453px;" src="http://photos-b.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v3343/165/88/589488017/n589488017_2467897_6962826.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-g.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v3343/165/88/589488017/n589488017_2467886_2967172.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 453px; height: 604px;" src="http://photos-g.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v3343/165/88/589488017/n589488017_2467886_2967172.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-f.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v3343/165/88/589488017/n589488017_2467885_5998781.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 453px; height: 604px;" src="http://photos-f.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v3343/165/88/589488017/n589488017_2467885_5998781.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-d.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v3343/165/88/589488017/n589488017_2467883_3923472.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 604px; height: 453px;" src="http://photos-d.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v3343/165/88/589488017/n589488017_2467883_3923472.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs007.snc1/2844_87891978632_533783632_1617426_64663_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 386px; height: 604px;" src="http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs007.snc1/2844_87891978632_533783632_1617426_64663_n.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-8606351000046185810?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/8606351000046185810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=8606351000046185810&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/8606351000046185810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/8606351000046185810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2009/04/taipei-spring-2009.html' title='Taipei Spring 2009'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-5511330133154611244</id><published>2008-05-01T02:00:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T14:57:51.968+08:00</updated><title type='text'>April</title><content type='html'>April has been a good month. I smiled a lot, ate a lot, sloshed down gallons of coffee and juice and exercised a fair bit. I use the term exercised loosely, it really depends on who you're talking to and your definition of exercising. And no, I'm not talking about sex, in fact, I haven't thought about it in a while. I've filled my calendar with activities and even made some short-term plans which are, of course, subjected to a long string of other considerations. But that's another story. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. All's been good except the bitch of a weather that had me sweating my pants off at the Fort Canning Park on Monday. It was Stereophonics' first concert in Singapore and I'm glad I caught it although I was slightly disappointed that Kelly did not do his guitar solo for Dakota. Still, it was surreal, hearing them live, complete with close up visuals. I so wanna marry a musician. Okay, that's pushing it, perhaps in another life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Vietnam. First impressions were ruined both by the horrendous traffic and the taxi-driver who couldn't leave his horn the hell alone, he was at it the whole time from the airport to the hotel, which was a good 30 minutes ride. I tried to distract him by initiating conversations but he scared the shit out of me by turning his head around each time I spoke, putting all our lives in jeopardy. Anyway, that was that. Katie's song was playing in my head the whole time we were on the roads. If there are, in fact, nine million bicycles in Beijing, there must be an equivalent number of motorbikes in Ho Chi Minh City. The roads are teemed with motorists in their 2 wheelers bearing merchandise of all sorts, coming at you in all directions. Forget traffic rules, there are none so to speak. For inexperienced riders with poor sense of navigation like yours truly, riding a motorcycle in Saigon can be awfully intimidating. I find myself sweating and shaking uncontrollably whenever i climbed onto the seat of my black Yamaha. Yes fear, of endangering not my own, but the lives of innocent and unknowing Vietnamese. Here's a tip, once on the road, always act like you've done this a million times, it'll help boost your confidence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Notice how i went on and on about the one thing we did? I'm almost ashamed to admit that we didn't get around much, not that i didn't enjoy the trip. We did visit the War Remnants Museum and the Notre Dame Cathedral, we rode past the Central Post Office and the Reunification Palace. (at least that's what i thought they were) We got lost at one point, which I found strangely comforting. We walked a lot and climbed a lot of stairs. Met some annoying people and a couple of amiable ones. A lot of late dinners and long showers. Some people lost a small fortune at the casino, I wont name names, you know who you are. :p It wasn't over the top fantastic, it was just good. And of course our trip wouldn't have been quite so pleasant if not for Chanh, who had to wake up at ungodly hours every single night to let us in and to park our bikes. A big thank you for your patience and kindness and guess what, to repay you, we'll be back. Right, till then, y'all have a good one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-5511330133154611244?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/5511330133154611244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=5511330133154611244&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/5511330133154611244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/5511330133154611244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2008/05/april.html' title='April'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-5921937184118177170</id><published>2007-11-25T06:39:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T15:17:53.049+08:00</updated><title type='text'>High</title><content type='html'>I'm wasting away, body, mind and soul. I could sleep all day and night and still wake up feeling totally wiped out. I'm whining again. I can't help it. I'm not reading at all, nothing of any great interest at least. I tried to. The only literature that seems to interest me of late is my weekly dose of celebrity gossip. I take delight in the carnal pleasures the world has to offer wherever i can find them. The closest description to a feeling i can come up with is high. I feel high. It's ironic. I've officially stooped to a new low. I'm becoming trashy. I don't like it one bit. I'm hoping shame will find me at some point. I'm hopeful. He's leaving in 10 days and i can't decide if i want to see him off at the airport. I'm afraid to be honest. I'm afraid that the tears won't come and the numbness won't go away. Plus it's always better to not know that the last time you see someone is the last time. It's better this way. I need a drink, another drink and a cigarette. I'll be back, with renewed strength in due course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="300" height="80"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://media.imeem.com/m/yEu5oBmIvX"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://media.imeem.com/m/yEu5oBmIvX" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="300" height="80" wmode="transparent"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-5921937184118177170?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/5921937184118177170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=5921937184118177170&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/5921937184118177170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/5921937184118177170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2007/11/getting-high-and-staying-high.html' title='High'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-648598715886074981</id><published>2007-11-15T00:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T00:05:00.795+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Chance Rendezvous</title><content type='html'>Even though i hate to admit it, it is nice to have someone ask you if the roast pork went well with the chicken rice every once in a while.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-648598715886074981?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/648598715886074981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=648598715886074981&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/648598715886074981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/648598715886074981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2007/11/chance-rendezvous.html' title='A Chance Rendezvous'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-5606149362750796231</id><published>2007-11-05T20:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T21:03:53.882+08:00</updated><title type='text'>On Repeat Mode</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;object width="300" height="80"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://media.imeem.com/m/lpVLU1jPnQ"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://media.imeem.com/m/lpVLU1jPnQ" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="300" height="80" wmode="transparent"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Travis&lt;br /&gt;Sailing Away&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are we gonna do,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; when you've stopped crying?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt; What ever you're going through&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt; it's not worth dying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Chasing away the blues,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I know you're trying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And nobody wants to lose,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I don't know why.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Cause I live by the river,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; live by the river and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I'll die by the river&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I'm sailing, away, today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; What are you gonna say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; when they stop laughing?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; You're giving it all away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; when you've got nothing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; How many times a day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; you feel like walking?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Taking a holiday from&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; all the shy-y-y...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; But I live by the river,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; live by the river and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I'll die by the river&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I'm sailing, away, today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Cause I live by the river,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; live by the river and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I'll die by the river&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I'm sailing, away, today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And you've got to grab&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; the bull by the horns my friend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; it's the only way to go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And when the story's told&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; we can go home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; So what are we gonna do,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; when you've stopped crying?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt; What ever you're going through&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt; it's not worth dying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Keeping away the blues&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; you know I'm trying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; What've we got to lose,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; and testify-y-y...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Cause I live by the river,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; live by the river and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I'll die by the river&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I'm sailing, away,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I'm sailing, away,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I'm sailing, away, today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-5606149362750796231?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/5606149362750796231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=5606149362750796231&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/5606149362750796231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/5606149362750796231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2007/11/on-repeat-mode.html' title='On Repeat Mode'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-2578082798612938158</id><published>2007-08-19T14:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-19T19:18:21.412+08:00</updated><title type='text'>To All Outside the Yellow Box</title><content type='html'>Come on now, that disdainful look and that fake coughing, that contemptuous wave of the hand to suggest that we're some kind of a disease? Seriously. Enough is enough. What makes non-smokers think they are above it all? You want fresh air? Go to a club. Seriously. We get it. It's bad for our health and it's a threat to the environment, well, so does your driving of your posh 8-seater and you dont see us giving you supercilious looks do you? Social tolerance. Have some, it's free. It costs you nothing and it makes you a better person. I'm not justifying my bad habits, i dont have an excuse, but neither do you. I shall not go on to bitch about the absurd price of a pack of cigarettes these days nor the lengths the authorities have gone to let smokers like myself know that we're unwelcome social pariahs. My point is this. I've paid the ridiculous taxes, i only smoke where smoking is allowed, please, let me have my little Lilliputian slice of heaven in peace. Thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-2578082798612938158?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/2578082798612938158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=2578082798612938158&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/2578082798612938158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/2578082798612938158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2007/08/to-all-outside-yellow-box.html' title='To All Outside the Yellow Box'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-1170590514867836552</id><published>2007-06-24T22:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-25T10:37:04.239+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Case of Logorrhea</title><content type='html'>Ever had one of those days where nothing seems to get you down? Days where you feel completely at ease with who you are and where you are and nothing, not even your impending unemployment seems too colossal a challenge you cant undertake? It has been a good week and to be honest, i relished it like a 5-year-old would savour a popsicle on a torrid afternoon, with glee and gratification. Hell, i even indulged in 3 meals a day complete with desserts the entire week without feeling the least bit guilty. I can't remember the last time i ingested a peanut butter and jelly sandwich nor the reason i swore off carbs, but this i remember, the juxtaposition of peanut butter and jelly between two thick slices of soft white bread and a piping hot mug of coffee, this i've missed. And no, i'm not high on prozac, or alcohol for that matter, in fact, i don't think i've been this sober in months. Who knows how long it'll last this time but i'll bask in it for as long as it does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of popsicles, the ice-cream man has been coming around religiously the last couple of weeks, twice a day i'll hear the chiming of his bells, beckoning children and adults alike to his charming little mini van like the Pied Piper of Hamelin, but in a good way. With the school holidays coming to an end, i expect to see less of him around. There is something in the jingle jangle of his bells at certain specified hours of the day that i find reassuring and comforting. My shrink, if i had one would say that i'm lacking in the permanency department and i would probably agree with him. I have no idea why my shrink is a him, but i'm sure there is a good reason why i chose a member of the male species as the quintessential solution to all of my problems. Right, i should probably stop psychoanalysing myself, am no Freud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time to hit the sack. Monday. Ughhh. I should have known this faux optimism was short-lived.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-1170590514867836552?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/1170590514867836552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=1170590514867836552&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/1170590514867836552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/1170590514867836552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2007/06/case-of-logorrhea.html' title='A Case of Logorrhea'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-3316731830649339678</id><published>2007-06-19T04:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-21T23:34:54.704+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jenny Lewis</title><content type='html'>Is it just me or does she have an amazing voice? There's something about the way she sings that blows me away, i love this bit here -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;and if you want me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;you better speak up- i won't wait&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;so you better, move fast&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;don't fool yourself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;in thinking you're more than you are&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;with your arms outstretched to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Extract from song - With Arms Outstretched&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;What can i say? I'm sold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="300" height="80"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://media.imeem.com/m/WNoN7_53Zc"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://media.imeem.com/m/WNoN7_53Zc" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="300" height="80" wmode="transparent"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-3316731830649339678?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/3316731830649339678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=3316731830649339678&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/3316731830649339678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/3316731830649339678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2007/06/jenny-lewis.html' title='Jenny Lewis'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-661591309971084240</id><published>2007-06-12T12:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-16T14:12:27.493+08:00</updated><title type='text'>27 going on 28</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I've decided that instead of turning 28 like all of my friends born in the year 1979 do, i'll be a spoiled brat and celebrate my 27th birthday, again, much to the protests of the angry mob that i used to call my friends. I'm sorry but i'm just not ready for the big TWO EIGHT yet, not mentally, not emotionally and above all, not physically. Identity crisis. I've been having it for as long as i've been conscious of my wretched existence. Year after year i make the same wish in futility before blowing out the candles on my too good to eat cake wondering when i'll see the light at the end of the tunnel. I know there are sadder things in life than not fitting into my size 27 Levi's or the wrinkles on my face that i've shamelessly mistaken for crease lines left by my cheap cotton pillow case or crying my eyes out listening to Feist's The Park or watching The Holiday for the 4th time this year just so i could still hang on to the teeniest tiniest of hopes that love does come a-knocking in miraculous ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Growing old isn't really that scary, if i say that a hundred times a day i might just convinced myself. I mean, one day you're a just a kid blasting loud music on your stereo with not a care in the world and the next you're all grown up and you worry about things like retirement funds and health care insurance and housing loans and the lot. On top of that, you are quite sure that your fats have decided to marry your waist and have hence obtained legal permanent residence through naturalisation and your hair seems to have lost its lustre and you seem to have develop a disgusting penchant for bitter melon and other greens. And you've given up loud music that sends your heart pumping for sad old bastard tunes and bright colours for safer ones. You wonder where you're going in your career, that is, if you do have one at all. One minute you feel that everything in your life is going okay, the next you're an emotional wreck and you go mental trying to figure out how life works between the two extremes. And how pathetic is it to spend most of your adult Christmases and birthdays and New Year's eves watching cheesy, blah movies all the time feeling lousy, lonely and totally alone? Maybe it isnt growing old that scares me per se, it's growing old alone, mateless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nevertheless, i'm grateful to friends, family and ex-boyfriend who did send their well wishes despite their busy schedules, most even made it to dinner and on time too. :) Maybe growing old really isnt that scary because you're never really alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-661591309971084240?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/661591309971084240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=661591309971084240&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/661591309971084240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/661591309971084240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2007/06/27-going-on-28.html' title='27 going on 28'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-8156397861448407982</id><published>2007-05-12T04:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-13T03:55:50.613+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Infatuation vs. Affection</title><content type='html'>Funny how after so many years of dating experience and you still find yourself asking the inevitable question - is it just an infatuation or do you see yourself falling in love? Perhaps the very fact that you asked is a sign that it isnt anything more than a mere crush. Should one then, dismiss the notion of it ever happening or actually do something about it? What are the tell-tale signs of liking someone? And how do you know when you've crossed the line from infatuation to true affection? Since we're at it, here's a list of parameters that i find helpful, although i'm pretty sure by the time i'm done, i'll be as stumped as i was before. Here goes -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Time - infatuations hardly last, although i once had a crush on a senior for 3 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Anxiety levels - do you feel more excited than petrified at the prospects of letting your feelings be known? The latter could be an indication that you feel more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Scope of fantasy - are all your fantasies with the person in question primarily sexual in nature or do they go beyond the physical?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Heart leaping index - Does a text from the person in question send your heart leaping to your throat?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Comfort level - Yes, i actually find this the most accurate of all. Let's be honest here, if you are going to spend an awful lot of time with this person, you better feel a certain level of comfort. Enough to speak your mind and be yourself level.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Music - happy music is a better barometer of measuring love than sad old bastard music, at least in the beginning. For instance, the song playing in your head when you see that person better be I Can Hear Music by the Beach Boys than Eponine's On My Own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Finally, when you start making a mental list of the person's likes and dislikes, birthdays and pet peeves, thats when you see a warning sign flashing in red that says - THIN ICE AHEAD.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-8156397861448407982?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/8156397861448407982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=8156397861448407982&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/8156397861448407982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/8156397861448407982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2007/05/infactuation-vs-affection.html' title='Infatuation vs. Affection'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-3959554938878846854</id><published>2007-04-30T02:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-30T02:45:17.165+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The 10 Confessions</title><content type='html'>1. I have once peed in a public place.&lt;br /&gt;2. I can sleep more than 16 hours a day if i want to.&lt;br /&gt;3. I have sweaty palms and feet.&lt;br /&gt;4. I dont like taking showers on rainy days.&lt;br /&gt;5. I try to hold my bladder for as long as i can stand it whilst doing chores and when i do expel, feel a great sense of satisfaction.&lt;br /&gt;6. I feed my friends' dogs junk food when they arent looking all the time.&lt;br /&gt;7. I secretly obsessed about marrying movie stars, this week, its Paul Newman version 1967.&lt;br /&gt;8. I have had a crush on a lesbian once.&lt;br /&gt;9. I dig my nose in the shower everyday.&lt;br /&gt;10. Bras make me feel uncomfortable and i dont like wearing them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-3959554938878846854?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/3959554938878846854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=3959554938878846854&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/3959554938878846854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/3959554938878846854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2007/04/10-confessions.html' title='The 10 Confessions'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-3728244436946448872</id><published>2007-04-23T04:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-23T11:52:02.815+08:00</updated><title type='text'>At long last</title><content type='html'>Time wounds, all heals. Some days i still miss him, and it still hurts an awful lot. But i'm getting better with each passing day. I still can't bring myself to trash the letters that he wrote, nor delete his text messages and emails from my inbox. Maybe i dont have to, perhaps one can still move on while holding onto the stuff that means something to them. I still feel the urge to write him every now and then, i still look wistfully at the gates to his apartment every time i drive past. I still can't stand to hear his voice, nor entertain the prospect of seeing him, but all's well. For the first time in a long while, i can feel my heart beating steadily. I might even take that trip to Norway in June, i just might. :)&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-3728244436946448872?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/3728244436946448872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=3728244436946448872&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/3728244436946448872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/3728244436946448872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2007/04/at-long-last.html' title='At long last'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-4252550292276496924</id><published>2007-04-22T09:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-23T08:28:33.740+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Phuket, Thailand, 23-26/3/2007</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirPmjeh8iI/AAAAAAAAAEE/Ge-yXOnum6c/s1600-h/Picture+052.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056081792942076450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirPmjeh8iI/AAAAAAAAAEE/Ge-yXOnum6c/s400/Picture+052.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirPOjeh8hI/AAAAAAAAAD8/vKdXXYwGCDg/s1600-h/IMG_0328.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056081380625216018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirPOjeh8hI/AAAAAAAAAD8/vKdXXYwGCDg/s400/IMG_0328.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirK8Deh8fI/AAAAAAAAADs/1gFNhTG7CWM/s1600-h/Picture+046.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056076664751124978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirK8Deh8fI/AAAAAAAAADs/1gFNhTG7CWM/s400/Picture+046.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirJzzeh8eI/AAAAAAAAADk/rZWUkhQB2KI/s1600-h/24032007550.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056075423505576418" style="DISPLAY: block; 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MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirEfTeh8MI/AAAAAAAAABU/lap_9wqI7qI/s400/CIMG3485.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirD3jeh8LI/AAAAAAAAABM/cMHNoQvGGzM/s1600-h/CIMG3449.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056068890860318898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirD3jeh8LI/AAAAAAAAABM/cMHNoQvGGzM/s400/CIMG3449.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirDZjeh8KI/AAAAAAAAABE/aJACK6Vubz0/s1600-h/CIMG3446.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056068375464243362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirDZjeh8KI/AAAAAAAAABE/aJACK6Vubz0/s400/CIMG3446.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirDLTeh8JI/AAAAAAAAAA8/_V9bLQITg6c/s1600-h/CIMG3445.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056068130651107474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirDLTeh8JI/AAAAAAAAAA8/_V9bLQITg6c/s400/CIMG3445.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirCyTeh8II/AAAAAAAAAA0/ZbI4JPQn0rU/s1600-h/CIMG3380.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056067701154377858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirCyTeh8II/AAAAAAAAAA0/ZbI4JPQn0rU/s400/CIMG3380.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirCSDeh8HI/AAAAAAAAAAs/iUa9KIMtr6Q/s1600-h/CIMG3344.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056067147103596658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirCSDeh8HI/AAAAAAAAAAs/iUa9KIMtr6Q/s400/CIMG3344.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirB-Deh8GI/AAAAAAAAAAk/tArbwsaNJY4/s1600-h/CIMG3330.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056066803506212962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirB-Deh8GI/AAAAAAAAAAk/tArbwsaNJY4/s400/CIMG3330.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pictures paint a thousand words, enough said. :))&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-4252550292276496924?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/4252550292276496924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=4252550292276496924&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/4252550292276496924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/4252550292276496924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2007/04/phuket-thailand-23-2632007.html' title='Phuket, Thailand, 23-26/3/2007'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RirPmjeh8iI/AAAAAAAAAEE/Ge-yXOnum6c/s72-c/Picture+052.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-116789741186022225</id><published>2007-04-01T15:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-04T00:03:21.636+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The fool on April's Day</title><content type='html'>Of all the cliches about life, the one i am most averse to would be that it goes on. That there are no catastrophe too devastating, no parting too unbearable, and no death too painful that it stops life from going on. We're allowed to grieve for a period of time and once the tears have been shed and the loss has been mourned, we are all expected to snap out of it because like it or not, life goes on. We acknowledge that some things are the way they are and even though we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;dont&lt;/span&gt; always understand them, we accept them. Illnesses, deaths, break-ups, loss, loneliness and the like, most of us find a way to deal with them, eventually. Maybe it's me, i let myself get too attached much too easily. I've allowed myself to grow accustomed to things, places and people even though i know they are carcinogenic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They do show up when you least expect them to. The happy couple. It &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;doesnt&lt;/span&gt; matter how vivid your imagination or how often you've played the scene in your head, your bastion collapsed and you shattered into pieces. I've recited the lines a million times in my head, how i would act, the subtle smile and the graceful delivery of my words. And all i could managed was a feeble wave of my hand whilst shaking in my skates, and with bated breath and trembling limbs, floated away without a second glance. The first has done irreparable harm. It took away the last of my tiniest fantasies. That he could still be hung up on me like i am on him, that i did creep into his thoughts every now and then or how i imagined him laying on the deck chair next to mine, soaking in the wondrous sun, sand and sea of paradise &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Phuket&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;At times like these i wonder if it's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;someone's&lt;/span&gt; divine idea of a joke. Of all places, of all days and of all times. If I had any sense at all, i should have called dibs on the places we frequented, times of the day and songs we listened to, except that there is no "we" anymore. My dearest you, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;didnt&lt;/span&gt; wait around for a "hello" not because i &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;didnt&lt;/span&gt; want to, but because i &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;couldnt&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These days i hang on to one thought. I hang on to it fervently and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;unweariedly&lt;/span&gt;. Quoting Iris in The Holiday - &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;And after all that, however long all that may be, you'll go somewhere new... and you'll meet people who'll make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff, those years of your life that you wasted, that will eventually begin to fade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RhJYts0f9iI/AAAAAAAAAAU/VbVorNFlLyc/s1600-h/6cd8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RhJYts0f9iI/AAAAAAAAAAU/VbVorNFlLyc/s400/6cd8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049195674384463394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="80" width="300"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://media.imeem.com/m/QEkJgUU4mZ"&gt;&lt;param name="wmmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://media.imeem.com/m/QEkJgUU4mZ" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="80" width="300"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-116789741186022225?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/116789741186022225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=116789741186022225&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/116789741186022225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/116789741186022225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2007/01/of-all-cliches-about-life-one-i-am.html' title='The fool on April&apos;s Day'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/RhJYts0f9iI/AAAAAAAAAAU/VbVorNFlLyc/s72-c/6cd8.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-116603431671584157</id><published>2006-12-16T04:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-01-19T04:46:06.843+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Saturday, December 16, 2006</title><content type='html'>Funny how your senses are most alive when you feel most dead. You see, hear, smell, taste and feel the things you've never really noticed before. Like the many wrinkles that have found their way to your Ma's face, the rain that smells just like it did when you were 6 and Eva Cassidy's Songbird, so beautiful it breaks your heart. The deluge at midday was a baptism, I let it soak every fibre of my being. It makes sense doesn't it, that if you want to experience the highest of high, you must first endure the unnerving troughs of the valley? It's just that, I can never seem to get there. It's like being on a swing, you take a deep breath, muster all the energy you have and pray that the momentary high, the split second you thought you could reach out and touch the skies is not  an ignis fatuus, but something real, something possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I intend to get very drunk tonight at a party i didnt think i am ready for. What the hell. Sobriety is way too overrated. Hello Vodka, bye bye baka. There, i said it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-116603431671584157?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/116603431671584157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=116603431671584157&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/116603431671584157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/116603431671584157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/12/saturday-december-16-2006.html' title='Saturday, December 16, 2006'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-116418469260986537</id><published>2006-11-22T16:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-22T16:40:04.560+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wednesday, November 22nd, 2006</title><content type='html'>It's raining.. How i long to see the rainbow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-116418469260986537?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/116418469260986537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=116418469260986537&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/116418469260986537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/116418469260986537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/11/wednesday-november-22nd-2006.html' title='Wednesday, November 22nd, 2006'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-116224741145529836</id><published>2006-10-31T06:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-31T06:30:11.466+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lucetta's Wisdom</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Two Gentlemen of Verona&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Julia: Why, he of all the rest, hath never mov'd me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lucetta: Yet he of all the rest, i think, best loves ye.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Julia: His little speaking shows his love but small.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lucetta: Fire thats closest kept burns most of all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Julia: They do not love that do not show their love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lucetta: O! they love least, that let men know their love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shakespeare was right, i've made a thorough fool of myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-116224741145529836?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/116224741145529836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=116224741145529836&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/116224741145529836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/116224741145529836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/10/lucettas-wisdom.html' title='Lucetta&apos;s Wisdom'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-115558795277358661</id><published>2006-08-15T04:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T04:39:12.786+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Holidaying</title><content type='html'>I am taking a holiday, a long vacation from living. When this vacation does end, i hope to feel better or at least different. To the dear friend who paid visits to the cafe with Godiva chocolates and hearty chats, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I'll be back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-115558795277358661?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/115558795277358661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=115558795277358661&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/115558795277358661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/115558795277358661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/08/holidaying.html' title='Holidaying'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-115258456084002363</id><published>2006-07-11T09:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T10:28:05.700+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry-go-round</title><content type='html'>Sometimes i wonder if i will ever stop going around in circles.&lt;br /&gt;You know that kind of feeling,&lt;br /&gt;that the world just keeps spinning&lt;br /&gt;and all you see is a blur of colours and hardly distinguishable shapes?&lt;br /&gt;Today is one of those days.&lt;br /&gt;I wish the world would stop spinning,&lt;br /&gt;so that for once i can see how blue the sky is&lt;br /&gt;and how beautiful your face looks against all that blue.&lt;br /&gt;The thing is,&lt;br /&gt;the pain starts when the spinning stops.&lt;br /&gt;Along with the fears and the doubts and the unanswered questions.&lt;br /&gt;And then i remembered that this is what got me spinning in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;You.&lt;br /&gt;Your beauty.&lt;br /&gt;My insanity.&lt;br /&gt;Our silence.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-115258456084002363?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/115258456084002363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=115258456084002363&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/115258456084002363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/115258456084002363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/07/merry-go-round.html' title='Merry-go-round'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-115115163746072851</id><published>2006-06-24T20:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-24T20:22:51.910+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Any Day Now</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Any Day Now - Missy Higgins&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How long, how long, how long&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Will we take to come undone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; If you know the answer tell me now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And I'll write at the calendar for our countdown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; 'Cause what if what we see is all, is all we've got&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Well say you've kept some fire aside&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; To set alight to me some surprising night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And say you've locked some fire away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; To set light to me some surprising day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Any day now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; How come, how come, how come&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I'm now on a road holding out my thumb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; If you know my destination please&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Well find me the fastest car and throw me the keys&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; 'Cause what if what we see is all, is all we've got&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Well say you've kept some fire aside&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; To set alight to me some surprising night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And say you've locked some fire away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; To set light to me some surprising day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Cause finger by finger we're losing grasp&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And I'm questioning the reasons&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Why nothing beautiful does last&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Well say you've kept some fire aside&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; To set alight to me some surprising night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And say you've locked some fire away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; To set light to me some surprising day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; To me some surprising day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Any day now &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-115115163746072851?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/115115163746072851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=115115163746072851&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/115115163746072851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/115115163746072851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/06/any-day-now.html' title='Any Day Now'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-115045870489137241</id><published>2006-06-16T18:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-16T19:58:21.366+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Unfortunate Events</title><content type='html'>1. I have just turned 27 and according to some semi-reliable statistics, my skin will now take twice the amount of time to replenish itself. I can feel a new web of wrinkles slithering and making themselves comfortable with their new-found abode. I can literally hear champagne bottles popping and glasses clinking away. Not to mention my already non-existent tits succumbing to gravity. Yeah, happy birthday to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. My computer has decided to crash on me while I was away. My 15 gigabytes of music that I took great pains and years to accumulate, gone. Pictures of my most glorious years, (well, not exactly glorious but what the fuck) vamoosed, permanently. Along with my past school assignments and ongoing projects I have been working on. I blame myself really, I should have known better than to place emotional attachment on a cold, heartless device. And I know all about backing up, I just hadnt gotten around to doing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Dropped my Seiko and broke the bracelet. It has to be my favourite watch. One that I scrimped and saved months for. Bollocks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Came home to a dried up vase and withered flowers from my birthday. There were 4 people at home and none of them bothered to fill the vase with water. In the midst of bitching the week's series of unfortunate events on the phone with my best friend whilst binning the flowers and cleaning the vase, guess what happened? Yeah, I broke the vase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Knackered after a night's work in the cafe, I dumped my uniform and jeans in the washing machine without checking the pockets. Imagine my horror when I opened the machine this morning saw lumps of black gooey stuff sticking to the insides. I couldnt tell what they were or where they came from until I saw the remains of what used to be ballpoint pens peeping through my left sock and apron strings. God help us all. My mum hasnt seen it yet, I have just emptied heaps of detergent and washing powder and set the machine on the longest cycle. Till then, I will have to lay low and pray hard that it comes off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I was hoping there isnt going to be a 6th. I mean, what else could possibly go wrong? I feel a sense of impending doom as Murphy's wise words whirled in my head. A couple of chores to be done before I head off to work, with my luck, I will probably choke myself eating raisins.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-115045870489137241?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/115045870489137241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=115045870489137241&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/115045870489137241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/115045870489137241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/06/unfortunate-events.html' title='Unfortunate Events'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-114945101212556491</id><published>2006-06-05T02:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-03T01:40:28.346+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dancing</title><content type='html'>And there i stood,&lt;br /&gt;On centre stage,&lt;br /&gt;Stark naked,&lt;br /&gt;Shaking with unknown fear,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There in the audience,&lt;br /&gt;Were the loves of my life,&lt;br /&gt;Some were here to watch the farce,&lt;br /&gt;Some were here to watch me fall,&lt;br /&gt;Some were here to catch me when i fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was now or never,&lt;br /&gt;I had to put on a good show,&lt;br /&gt;I was alone,&lt;br /&gt;A dancer without a partner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first note sonant,&lt;br /&gt;It was my cue,&lt;br /&gt;My body rigid,&lt;br /&gt;I curtsied gingerly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had no idea what nor whom to dance for,&lt;br /&gt;But i danced,&lt;br /&gt;Like a butterfly amongst blossoming flowers,&lt;br /&gt;Like a drunkard inebriated,&lt;br /&gt;Like a prisoner embracing the sun's warmth for the first time in a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I danced the dance of misery,&lt;br /&gt;Of sorrow and heartache,&lt;br /&gt;Of a love lost,&lt;br /&gt;Whose face i couldnt bear to imagine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of a future,&lt;br /&gt;or the lack of one.&lt;br /&gt;Of losing hope,&lt;br /&gt;in a world where i cannot find my place.&lt;br /&gt;Crestfallen, afflicted and diseased.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The audience are baffled,&lt;br /&gt;It wouldnt be long before they send in the clowns,&lt;br /&gt;And so i leapt,&lt;br /&gt;Higher and higher i soared,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not afraid of heights,&lt;br /&gt;I am not afraid of taking the road less traveled,&lt;br /&gt;I am just afraid of being left here,&lt;br /&gt;On flat ground,&lt;br /&gt;Not going anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so i kept dancing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Jamie Tay&lt;br /&gt;Monday, 05 06 2006&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-114945101212556491?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/114945101212556491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=114945101212556491&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114945101212556491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114945101212556491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/06/dancing.html' title='Dancing'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-114898464191953036</id><published>2006-05-30T18:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-30T19:17:41.953+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Handbags and Gladrags</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;HANDBAGS AND GLADRAGS - STEREOPHONICS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Ever seen a blind man cross the road,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Try'na make the other side,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Ever seen a young girl growing old,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Try'na to make herself a bride,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; So what becomes of you my love,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; When they have finally stripped you of,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; The handbags and the gladrags,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; That your poor old Granddad had to sweat to buy you,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Once I was a young man,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; All I thought I had to do was smile,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Well You are still a young girl,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And you bought everything in style,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; So once you think you're in, you're out,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; 'Cause you don't mean a single thing without,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; The handbags and the gladrags,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; That your poor old Granddad had to sweat to buy you,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Sing a song of six-pence for your sake,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And drink a bottle full of rye,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Four and twenty blackbirds in a cake,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And bake them all in a pie,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; They told me you missed school today,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; So what I suggest you just throw them all away,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; The handbags and the gladrags,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; That your poor old Granddad had to sweat to buy you, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; They told me you missed school today,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; So what I suggest you just throw them all away,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; The handbags and the gladrags,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; That your poor old Granddad had to sweat to buy you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lovely track by the Stereophonics, was just hopping out of the shower on a rainy Sunday afternoon, towel in hand and hair still drip-a-dropping when i first heard this song. At times like these you wish time would come to a standstill. To buy CDs list is getting longer, with the moolah running low, no more chocolates and chips, after all, good music feeds one more than food ever could. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-114898464191953036?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/114898464191953036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=114898464191953036&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114898464191953036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114898464191953036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/05/handbags-and-gladrags.html' title='Handbags and Gladrags'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-114898286100991813</id><published>2006-05-30T17:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-30T17:58:29.160+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love After Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LOVE AFTER LOVE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The time will come&lt;br /&gt;when, with elation,&lt;br /&gt;you will greet yourself arriving&lt;br /&gt;at your own door, in your own mirror,&lt;br /&gt;and each will smile at the other's welcome,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and say, sit here. Eat,&lt;br /&gt;You will love again the stranger who was your self.&lt;br /&gt;Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart&lt;br /&gt;to itself, to the stranger who has loved you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all your life, whom you ignored&lt;br /&gt;for another, who knows you by heart.&lt;br /&gt;Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the photographs, the desperate notes,&lt;br /&gt;peel your own image from the mirror.&lt;br /&gt;Sit. Feast on your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                      - Derek Walcott&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-114898286100991813?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/114898286100991813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=114898286100991813&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114898286100991813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114898286100991813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/05/love-after-love_30.html' title='Love After Love'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-114796599490515627</id><published>2006-05-18T22:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-22T17:38:32.393+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Curve balls</title><content type='html'>Much on my mind lately, i dont think i have thought as much in the last couple of years as i have the last couple of weeks. Each time i tried penning my thoughts i convulsed into bouts of depression and fear that leaves me regressing into the little me that i have come so far. I suppose this is one of those things you'll know when it is right. There will be no hesitation, no doubts and tears, only joy. Like all the shitty things in life, i know this one too, will pass. Perhaps for now, it is okay to feel awful, depressed and shitty, until i am ready to pick myself up. I just wish i hadnt let this pride thing get in the way, that it is okay to be weak sometimes, especially in the face of the one you love most. But no, i had to be all Xena and Joan of Arc, its just that, i didnt want you to see the side of me that wasnt strong, insecurity maybe, or perhaps a form of self-defense, i just couldnt let it all out. I know you are there, and you have done more than i thought you would, and i know that i am not alone, so thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring cleaning, so said a friend, you'll find yourself in a happier place at the end of the year. *fingers crossed* my love, keep yours crossed for me. The worst is yet to come, i fear not what is physical, that i have reckoned to be a breeze, we'll just have to prepare for the worst and hope for the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Summer, my least favourite season of the year. We'll just have to bite our tongues and get it over and done with, after all, autumn is but a quarter of a year away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-114796599490515627?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/114796599490515627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=114796599490515627&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114796599490515627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114796599490515627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/05/curve-balls.html' title='Curve balls'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-114625621973291972</id><published>2006-04-29T03:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T19:23:40.720+08:00</updated><title type='text'>When I die</title><content type='html'>First of all, there is the music, there are a couple of songs i want played. Just to name a few -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. God Only Knows - The Beach Boys&lt;br /&gt;2. Let There Be Love - Oasis&lt;br /&gt;3. Other Side Of The World - KT Tunstall&lt;br /&gt;4. Hallelujah - Kathryn Williams&lt;br /&gt;5. Fix You - Coldplay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont mind being cremated, a burial is too expensive here in Singapore. There is the flowers, daisies and daisies only, i dont want the usual crappy chrysanthemums, its too depressing, and lets face it, they are not the prettiest of flowers. A simple and short affair is what i want, with close friends and family saying a little something about me, i dont want a pastor with bad english who cant say my name right to be there. Laugh a little, cry a little, and goodbye it is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-114625621973291972?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/114625621973291972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=114625621973291972&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114625621973291972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114625621973291972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/04/when-i-die.html' title='When I die'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-114397893286834676</id><published>2006-04-10T02:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T07:23:37.623+08:00</updated><title type='text'>These shoes are not made for walking</title><content type='html'>March has come and gone. Spring has manifested herself in the most resplendent of red and yellow, pink and green. Perhaps it was the glorious sun peeping through the trees, casting shadows of dancing figures that deluded you, maybe it was the lulling concerto of the birds that pulled at your heartstrings, for some unknown and nevertheless bizarre reason, you decided to take me out for a walk in the park, at 2 in the afternoon. Dressed in my favourite feathered sandals and ethnic black ensemble, (those were the only clean clothes and shoes i have that day) we made for the park. The first 30 minutes were as romantic as i'd imagined it to be, my arm in yours, we sauntered along, giggling and fighting, the endless skies and sea amalgamated into one. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Patata, thats Greek for potato, and tomato?" &lt;/span&gt;you asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"ermmm, tomata?"&lt;br /&gt;"ehh la malaka, tomata!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;And so patata i became, and tomata you were. Frivolous conversation fitting for a capricious afternoon of frolicking under the sun. It was fun until my sandals began to give and my top began to stick to my back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Shall we continue or do you want to head back?"&lt;br /&gt;"Ehh, lets go home, i've had enough."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;And so, we headed home. On foot. From East Coast Park to Katong we walked, and walked, and walked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"There is a song playing in my head tomata - The road is long, with many a winding turns, that leads us to where, who knows where..."&lt;br /&gt;"Keep up patata, we would have got home by now if it wasnt for you."&lt;br /&gt;"I would be crazy to do this again. I would have to be. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;That was, until you turned around, spread your arms wide opened and locked me in your embrace&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;sweat and all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Are we there yet, this is the great wall of china, we'll never get there." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;font&gt;I lamented.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"You're are useless malaka, useless."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then you kissed me. The tenderest of kisses.&lt;br /&gt;I'd be crazy not to do it again.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-114397893286834676?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/114397893286834676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=114397893286834676&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114397893286834676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114397893286834676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/04/these-shoes-are-not-made-for-walking.html' title='These shoes are not made for walking'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-114338495723088840</id><published>2006-03-27T00:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-26T22:55:57.246+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Breathe and Reboot</title><content type='html'>Monday.&lt;br /&gt;A few deep breaths, and&lt;br /&gt;Reboot in progress;&lt;br /&gt;Blue, ohh yeah, ohh noo, blue.&lt;br /&gt;:(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-114338495723088840?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/114338495723088840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=114338495723088840&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114338495723088840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114338495723088840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/03/breathe-and-reboot.html' title='Breathe and Reboot'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-114300544915857602</id><published>2006-03-22T13:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-23T10:52:00.730+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Absurdity</title><content type='html'>I have had one of the most bizarre dream ever last night, i was speeding in a Formula One race. And i dont even have a driver's license. And Michael Schumacher was laughing at me. (It could have been with me, but my instincts are more inclined towards the former) Tsk Tsk. What in the world was that about?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-114300544915857602?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/114300544915857602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=114300544915857602&amp;isPopup=true' title='30 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114300544915857602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114300544915857602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/03/absurdity.html' title='Absurdity'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>30</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-114252972451538383</id><published>2006-03-17T10:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-21T12:12:45.670+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mummy Dearest</title><content type='html'>How long is it going to last this time? A week? Maybe two? Or are you going to make this one last as long as you can? I have had enough of this cold war shit, it is getting old, too old. I am 20 fucking 7 Ma, maybe it is time you get into that head of yours that i am never going to be the dutiful and obedient daughter that you want me to be. I do love you, and if there is one thing in the world i can be sure of, it'll be that you love me. So why can't we do without the fights? Why cant we be civil for once? Just for a month, 30 days, thats all i ask for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why you asked? Why didnt i tell you i wont be coming home? Why didnt i tell you where i was? Because you have to get used to it thats why, because one day soon i am going to leave you, and i wont be calling you every single night to tell you where i went, what i did, who i was with. And you have to learn to deal with it, you have to know that i will be fine. I promise not to get myself killed, i will try my hardest. I am not a kid anymore Ma, if you treat me like one, i will act like one. And it is scary, the thought of leaving you, the thought of heading out and making it on my own. I am so used to the sheltered life that you and pa have given me. I am not sure if i am going to make it, i am not sure that i am going to do just as good, but i have to, i want to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am scared out of my wits just thinking about it, but not half as excited and hungry for a life of my own. And for the last time, one doesnt have to be married to be an adult. You for one, should know that, you were barely 20 when you had your first child, and you did fine didnt you? It will take a lot of getting used to, no more home-made soup to come home to, no more you waking me up in the mornings when i oversleep, no more of your experimental pasta and sushi and no more of you nagging me, even that i am going to miss. And what are you going to do without me? Fuck, &lt;em&gt;what are you going to do without me? &lt;/em&gt;Who will translate english movies to teochew for you? Who will tell you stories of the colourful world? Who will follow you from bathroom to kitchen, all the time telling you that it is not right to discriminate races, sexes and sexual preferences? Who will tell you that your curry is excellent and your soup is bland?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll survive wont we? Promise?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-114252972451538383?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/114252972451538383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=114252972451538383&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114252972451538383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114252972451538383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/03/mummy-dearest.html' title='Mummy Dearest'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-114211562925952434</id><published>2006-03-12T06:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-17T00:48:07.413+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Elder Sis</title><content type='html'>My love,&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes i worry about you,&lt;br /&gt;You, the goody-two-shoes,&lt;br /&gt;You, the perpetually confused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may be thirty and one,&lt;br /&gt;But trust me when i say,&lt;br /&gt;You hardly look nor think like one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marriage is but a piece of paper,&lt;br /&gt;There are more things in life that matter,&lt;br /&gt;Do not tie the knot,&lt;br /&gt;If he is what you think not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your life is yours to lead,&lt;br /&gt;Do take all the time you need,&lt;br /&gt;I wish you love and eternal bliss,&lt;br /&gt;My dearly beloved sis.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-114211562925952434?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/114211562925952434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=114211562925952434&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114211562925952434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114211562925952434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/03/elder-sis.html' title='The Elder Sis'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-114196815915974156</id><published>2006-03-10T13:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-13T11:04:25.653+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The List</title><content type='html'>I have just decided that neither rainstorm nor earthquake is going to make me leave the house this weekend (except that we have neither of those here). There can be no temptation so great that could entice me from my oh-so-comfortable single bed in my commodiously single bedroom with my fabulously single furnishings. There are some days that i need to be alone, like absolutely and completely. I cannot be with people Mondays to Sundays, day in day out. It has a very bad consequence of driving me crazy. Bad enough that i still live with my parents and siblings, now i have a cousin who is home all the time, so what used to be my alone time has been robbed of, properly. And so i thought a weekend at the boyfriend's house would be a refreshing change, since there is just him and two roomies who are hardly ever in. Huge mistake. Boyfriend's place is not equivalent to MY place. Its not that i dont like the place, its clean, its air-conditioned and the refrigerator is always well stocked with munchies of sorts. So i made a list of the likes and dislikes, just to prove that i am not that difficult of a person to live with. Lets start with the dislikes -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Why i dont like staying over:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;First of all, as a woman, i speak for all, staying over is an affair that is comparable to taking a short trip. You have to think about what you are going to wear over the couple of days, what shoes with which pair of jeans with which top with which bag and what accessories. And you cant change your mind because you've packed only those that you have decided before. And let me just say - FUCK! We cant wear the same outfit for coffee and clubbing afterwards. We are women, we change our outfits as often as we change our minds. Its not our fault.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;And then there is the toiletries. We dont wash our faces with soap for goodness sake's! And certainly not with the same bar we soaped our bodies with! Here's what we need - Facial wash, facial scrub, toner, moisturiser, shampoo, conditioner, and shower foam. I know what you are going to say next, that i can leave these things at his place. Of course i know that, i just dont want to get too comfortable, if you know what i mean.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I do spend a lot of time in the bathroom, and i like to read when i do a number 2. Its a life-long habit, i cant just go and concentrate on going, i need a book to read when i do so. So if you see me going into the bathroom with a book its like announcing that i am about to do a number 2 and i have a problem with that too.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am not good with sharing, i dont have a habit of sharing my bed with another. If its a single bed, its not made for 2. Like i have said before, i need to propel from one side of the bed to another, and i cant do that when someone takes up more than his half of the bed. I snore, i drool, i talk in my sleep, hell i even sleep with my eyes open, and i dont need to hear about them when i wake up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Being the klutz that i am, i drop, spill and break things, and i am not comfortable doing that at someone else's place.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The weekends are especially precious and i dont like it when i feel that i have wasted them doing none of the things i planned to do. If i have a movie planned, i have a movie planned, if i need to do laundry, i need to do the laundry, if i have a book to finish, i have a book to finish. And i kind of like to mix them up a little as i go along, read a little, do a little laundry, watch disc 1 of a dvd and laundry again and things like that. Spending the weekend at someone else's place means that i dont get to do any of the above and i keep thinking of the unfinished chores waiting for me. It gets on my nerves.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I dont like to be told what i can or cannot do. I am not just a kid. I know what i can or cannot do.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Now for the good list:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;I like it when you are there when i am thinking of you. And you make me laugh. Plus i know that i would kick myself for not spending enough time with you when you leave for good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think i may be a more difficult person than i think i really am. A little selfish too. Oh well, thats just me. Long weekend ahead, chores to be done, ughhh. I KNOW! Cheerios for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-114196815915974156?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/114196815915974156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=114196815915974156&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114196815915974156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/114196815915974156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/03/list.html' title='The List'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-113976598714181632</id><published>2006-02-13T01:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-22T13:40:56.823+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love</title><content type='html'>Love is -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;an addictive drug; an adrenaline that makes you feel alive; a misfortune; cupid's curse; a famine and a drought; a chaotic and confusing occupation; a mistake we made when we were 17, and again at 20, and 24, and again, and again. Love is all that and a many splendored things. And lately, love has become something else, something different and rather incomprehensible. "Has become" are probably not the right words to use, perhaps love has always been, and silly me have not made room for the possibility. Instead, I just kept asking myself daft questions like: How could you make me sun dried tomato ciabatta at 8 in the morning, then buy me Ferrero Rocher chocolates from Greece? It just doesnt add up. How could you not say the words i want to hear, not even something remotely close to what i want to hear? And what happened to my breakfasts in bed? And the compulsive urge to see each other all the time, or at least most of the time? Why do I always feel like i am the difficult one when all i asked for is a normal relationship? (Then again, i am reminded that none of my past relationships could come close to being "normal", or none that i know of, for that matter.) You are a far cry from what i expected. Your aberrant ways threw me off time and time again, I was convinced that i mean nothing to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mind was so pre-occupied with the things that you didnt do and the words you didnt say that i overlooked the things that you did do, and the words that you did say. The tenderness in your eyes caught me by surprise, it may not seem good enough a reason for me to stay, but it is enough, at least for now, because with you, i have learnt to expect little, if not, nothing. Maybe some loves are not meant to be flamboyant or loud, or romantic. Maybe its not all about the big gestures or the "i love yous". Maybe some loves are meant to be quiet and reserved. Maybe you are good enough because I hear my heart singing each time you are near. And you made me smile, a day spent with you would put a silly grin on my face that lasts an entire week. You are my energizer and duracell, these mawkish confessions are making my hair stand but still, I feel the need to put these into words, to have a hard copy of these thoughts and feelings, so the next time i feel lost and confused, i'll have something, something to hold on to. It doesnt mean i have forfeited my future rights to be pissed, frustrated or disgruntled, mind you, i'm still very much the unsatisfied customer as it is. But from now onwards, i am taking the passenger seat and handing over the wheels. I'll try to shut up and enjoy the birds and the bees as we drive along and be happy. :) And of course, i'm quite sure i'd die if you do read this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A song to end -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;God Only Knows - The Beach Boys&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I may not always love you&lt;br /&gt;But long as there are stars above you&lt;br /&gt;You never need to doubt it&lt;br /&gt;I'll make you so sure about it&lt;br /&gt;God only knows what I'd be without you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If you should ever leave me&lt;br /&gt;Though life would still go on, believe me&lt;br /&gt;The world could show nothing to me&lt;br /&gt;So what good would livin' do me&lt;br /&gt;God only knows what I'd be without you&lt;br /&gt;God only knows what I'd be without you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;God only knows what I'd be without you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If you should ever leave me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Well life would still go on believe me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The world could show nothing to me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So what good would living do me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;God only knows what I'd be without you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;God only knows what I'd be without you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;God only knows&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;God only knows what I'd be without you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;God only knows what I'd be without you &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-113976598714181632?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/113976598714181632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=113976598714181632&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113976598714181632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113976598714181632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/02/love.html' title='Love'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-113890162736224712</id><published>2006-02-03T00:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T10:46:19.406+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pourquoi?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;But the thing is, um, what I'm trying to say, very inarticulately, is that, um, in fact, perhaps despite appearances, I like you, very much. Just as you are. - Bridget Jones Diary (Darcy to Jones)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;And its not because you might be leaving for good. - Malaka&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-113890162736224712?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/113890162736224712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=113890162736224712&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113890162736224712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113890162736224712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/02/pourquoi.html' title='Pourquoi?'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-113786915825252101</id><published>2006-01-22T02:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T19:26:06.223+08:00</updated><title type='text'>This Beauiful Life</title><content type='html'>Not a great start to the new year, its becoming harder and harder to lift one's sprits when you are losing hold of yourself. My favourite season of the year is soon approaching its end, as i watched the last of the rain washed away all that is old and expired to make room for the new and the now, a sense of despair sets in. Dark and gloomy thoughts proliferate; Life. This is life. This is LIFE? Excuse me but i was told that you are beautiful, that you are dear, that you bring promises, and that you are, too, very huggable indeed. The shitty thing is, i was prepared for all of the above, i was pretty sure that my ma and pa wouldnt lie. I do remember a time where you were loveable and all that. The year was 1986, it was 6.45 am, I was eight then, i was waiting for the school bus, it was a beautiful morning, the hibiscus were in bloom, large, beautiful, red things. I couldnt wait to go to school, more honestly, I couldnt wait to show my friends my new Transformer pencil case, and at recess time, we were going to play hopscotch, and the losers had to buy the winners ice-cream! At times i wondered if i could die from an overdose of happiness, like on Sundays, where they played Smurfs and Donald Duck cartoons on television. Everyday was merry. I was happy. I was hopeful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happened Life? Ohh yes, i grew up, that much i recalled, and you, you became ugly. And suddenly everyone's saying that you are hard, you stink like they knew it all the while. Why didnt they tell me before? I would have been better prepared then, or would I? I am 20 fucking 7, well, not yet but soon. What have i accomplished? Nothing. Zero. Zilch. What am i good at? Nothing. Zero. Zilch. Who am I? Nothing. Zero. Zilch. The year is 2006. 7.10 am, i am waiting for the company bus, it is a rainy morning, the hibiscus are in bloom, large, beautiful, red things. I heard a voice in my head: "throw yourself at the next vehicle that comes along. do it. go on." I am scared, terrified. Surely this is not the only way out. I am not going to be miserable forever. I'll be happy again. I want to. I have to. I will figure it out. I will be well again. Must try harder. Must not give in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is so much to look forward to, things to see, places to go, dreams to fulfil, people to love. Trees and birds and rainbows and smoking chimneys. Tell me that you are beautiful. Life. Show me your beauty.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-113786915825252101?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/113786915825252101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=113786915825252101&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113786915825252101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113786915825252101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/01/this-beauiful-life.html' title='This Beauiful Life'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-113767710441643346</id><published>2006-01-19T21:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-20T01:08:13.630+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Depression</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"What if life doesnt work out?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-113767710441643346?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/113767710441643346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=113767710441643346&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113767710441643346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113767710441643346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2006/01/depression.html' title='Depression'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-113555114814144282</id><published>2005-12-26T06:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-04T20:01:20.736+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Christmas Masquerade</title><content type='html'>Christmas 2005 - My mum will kill me when she sees these but what the hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Christmas%20Party%202005%20%40%20Conrad%20080.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Christmas%20Party%202005%20%40%20Conrad%20080.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you dearest Moe, for the beautiful dress. I felt like a mermaid and a star all at the same time. :) This picture of ours is one of our best in years!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Christmas%20Party%202005%20%40%20Conrad%20056.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Christmas%20Party%202005%20%40%20Conrad%20056.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moi, mon Cowboy et mon Diva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Christmas%20Party%202005%20%40%20Conrad%20055.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Christmas%20Party%202005%20%40%20Conrad%20055.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dennis, myself and Agus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Christmas%20Party%202005%20%40%20Conrad%20045.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Christmas%20Party%202005%20%40%20Conrad%20045.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The gals - Tricia, YY, myself and Faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Christmas%20Party%202005%20%40%20Conrad%20046.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Christmas%20Party%202005%20%40%20Conrad%20046.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The gals again, this time with Dennis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Christmas%20Party%202005%20%40%20Conrad%20074.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Christmas%20Party%202005%20%40%20Conrad%20074.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Us, acting cool and trying not to burst out laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Christmas%20Party%202005%20%40%20Conrad%20104.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Christmas%20Party%202005%20%40%20Conrad%20104.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Evil Queen, her bad Santarinas and her Royal Henchman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Christmas%20Party%202005%20%40%20Conrad%20072.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Christmas%20Party%202005%20%40%20Conrad%20072.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bouncers and me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Xmas%40Conrad%20Hotel%20048.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Xmas%40Conrad%20Hotel%20048.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cowgirl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Xmas%40Conrad%20Hotel%20026.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Xmas%40Conrad%20Hotel%20026.1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and JJ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Xmas%40Conrad%20Hotel%20054.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Xmas%40Conrad%20Hotel%20054.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hairstylist at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Xmas%40Conrad%20Hotel%20055.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Xmas%40Conrad%20Hotel%20055.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our very own make-up artist-Melvin. Muacks, thank you for making us beautiful, love ya lots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Xmas%40Conrad%20Hotel%20075.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Xmas%40Conrad%20Hotel%20075.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Santa Claus himself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/YY_Me_Edit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/YY_Me_Edit.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JJ &amp; her chick-YY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Xmas%40Conrad%20Hotel%20061.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Xmas%40Conrad%20Hotel%20061.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lagas in Black.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Xmas%40Conrad%20Hotel%20015.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Xmas%40Conrad%20Hotel%20015.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more of the girls, from left - Adrian, Tricia, YY, Myself &amp; Faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/IMG_1475.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/IMG_1475.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/IMG_1476.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/IMG_1476.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/IMG_1465.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/IMG_1465.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/PC240030.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/PC240030.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/PC240058.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/PC240058.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/PC240071.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/PC240071.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/PC240093.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/PC240093.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/PC240100.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/PC240100.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/PC250106.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/PC250106.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/PC250114.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/PC250114.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/PC250116.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/PC250116.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/PC250130.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/PC250127.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/PC250150.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/PC250150.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/PC250139.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/PC250139.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are the last of the pictures, forgive me if there are duplicates, rumour has it that we have taken more than 500 photographs that night. Tsk tsk, bunch of narcissists. I've a little speech prepared on Christmas eve, it turns out i still think its too mushy to actually say them/write them. Suffice it to say, you people are the love of my life and i love y'all. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-113555114814144282?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/113555114814144282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=113555114814144282&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113555114814144282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113555114814144282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/12/christmas-masquerade.html' title='A Christmas Masquerade'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-113369897294225661</id><published>2005-12-04T19:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T00:57:29.306+08:00</updated><title type='text'>An Almost Perfect Weekend (The sequel)</title><content type='html'>BURP! Excuse moi, but i think i've had too much to eat this weekend. Our barbeque cum tenting at East Coast Park was quite a blast. It was my very first attempt at setting up a tent and camping in the wild(McDonald's was 150 metres away, good old Macers, but shhh, we dont need everyone to know that). Do give us some credit here, we are, after all, city boys and girls wanting to get in touch with mother nature. Its funny how sometimes extemporaneous efforts seem to work better than carefully thought out ones, its just one of those things i guess. And i did recently find out the source of these wise words - Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans - John Lennon. I wish i could write better, just so i can describe how beautiful the sun rising from the horizon was, or how breathtaking it was to watch the endless skies illuminated by streaks of lightning. It was, hmmm.... surreal. And to know that spectacular sights as such occurs every morning, i'm awe-struck and stupefied, and astronomically lonely. I was so desperate to have a lover's hand to hold, a shoulder to lean on, anything to share this magical moment with, i half wanted to grab Agus' hand, just to know how it feels, to have that, that precious moment that doesnt come very often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something must be wrong somewhere, loneliness when you are single is something i can handle, because there is something to look forward to, there is the hope that somewhere out there, there is someone that can make it all go away. But this, this i am not ready for, this i am not equipped to manage. And so the only logical response i came up with was to use humour as a cover up, to act like a clown, and maybe my mind would somehow think its all a farce. Do i sound like Chandler or what? I hope i didnt freak my poor friends out though. Now that you know my secret, i am going to have to silence every single one of you. :D The next time this happens, do not freak out, laugh at my jokes and know that i will be fine. I am not a schizophrenic, i am a gemini.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Counting down the days to Christmas! It'll be our best one yet, i can see it coming. Dont you just love this time of the year? Even though it doesnt snow here in Singapore, even though its 35 degrees celsius in the supposed "winter", even though Santa Claus has to deliver his Christmas presents in a bathing suit just so he doesnt die from heat stroke, still, its Christmas. Its beautiful. Its lovely. Merry Christmas friends. Merry Christmas Baka. Merry Christmas to everyone who reads this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pictures Fresh From The Oven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Sunrise.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Sunrise.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Love%20The%20Backdrop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Love%20The%20Backdrop.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Awwwwww.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Awwwwww.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/The%20Perpetuators.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/The%20Perpetuators.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Kawaii%20Ne.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Kawaii%20Ne.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Lets%20Do%20The%20Hustle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Lets%20Do%20The%20Hustle.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Hip%20Hop%20Hip%20Hop%20Hip%20Hip%20Hop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Hip%20Hop%20Hip%20Hop%20Hip%20Hip%20Hop.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/The%20Goddesses%20Of%20Gamble.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/The%20Goddesses%20Of%20Gamble.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/MJ%20In%20My%205-Room%20Flat%202.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/MJ%20In%20My%205-Room%20Flat%202.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Marshmellows%20Roasting%20On%20An%20Open%20Fire.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Marshmellows%20Roasting%20On%20An%20Open%20Fire.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Yum%20Yum.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Yum%20Yum.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Group%20Effort.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Group%20Effort.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Look%20At%20Us%21.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Look%20At%20Us%21.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Pitching%20Tents.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Pitching%20Tents.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Camping%20ECP%20Dec%2005.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Camping%20ECP%20Dec%2005.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-113369897294225661?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/113369897294225661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=113369897294225661&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113369897294225661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113369897294225661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/12/almost-perfect-weekend-sequel.html' title='An Almost Perfect Weekend (The sequel)'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-113312053770875221</id><published>2005-11-28T02:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-28T04:28:15.760+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Let There Be Love</title><content type='html'>I must say, i wasnt the least bit surprised we didnt find ourselves frolicking under the sun at Sentosa on Saturday, i knew we werent going to make it, its just one of those things we do, making plans and not keeping them. Nevertheless, it was a good weekend. It wasnt extraordinary nor fantabulous or anything like that, just comfortable, and it was enough. Despite the unsolved mystery where you found yourself on the couch in the middle of the night, i figured it wasnt all that bad a weekend for you too, you cold fish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday afternoon was spent sipping coffees at Starbucks and lamenting about the dreadful weather, it was drizzling and as much as i love the rain, it wasnt all that refreshing with the temperature at 35 degrees celsius. Then i saw her, she was smiling blissfully, seemingly oblivious to the rushing crowd, her gray hair tied up in a bun, her skirt bouncing merrily as she danced to Bananarama's Love In The First Degree with her imaginary partner, well, imaginary only because i couldnt see what she saw. I smiled, for a fleeting moment, i imagined how it would be like to be her. She is what some people would call, a nutcase. I figured she was happier than every other person on the street, her world was one filled with music and dancing. Her smile was contagious, if insanity is a disease, maybe we should all be so lucky to be infected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm broke, again. It seems like i've been broke for the longest time. I've decided to do something personal for christmas gifts this year, not that i've given any christmas presents for the last couple of years. I guess its about time! :) I guess this is it for now. Ohhhh and i love love love love love Oasis' Let There Be Love, hence the title.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Oasis - Let There Be Love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Who kicked a hole in the sky, so the heavens would cry over me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Who stole the soul from the sun in a world come undone at the seams?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Let there be love, Let there be love &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I hope the weather is calm as you sail up your heavenly stream&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Suspended clear in the sky are the words that we sing in our dreams&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Let there be love, Let there be love, Let there be love, Let there be love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Come on baby blue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Shake up your tired eyes the world is waiting for you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; May all your dreaming fill the empty sky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; But if it makes you happy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Keep on clapping&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Just remember I'll be by your side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And if you don't let go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Its gonna pass you by&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Who kicked a hole in the sky, so the heavens would cry over me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Who stole the soul from the sun in a world come undone at the seams?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Let there be love, Let there be love, Let there be love, Let there be love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Let there be love, Let there be love, Let there be love, Let there be love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-113312053770875221?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/113312053770875221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=113312053770875221&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113312053770875221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113312053770875221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/11/let-there-be-love.html' title='Let There Be Love'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-113183166243545843</id><published>2005-11-13T03:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-13T17:42:14.183+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Crestfallen</title><content type='html'>It wasnt supposed to be like that. Its me isnt it? I am the disease. I keep getting sucked into the deep, dark blackhole of unhappiness. I am never going to be happy, ever, am I?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-113183166243545843?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/113183166243545843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=113183166243545843&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113183166243545843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113183166243545843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/11/crestfallen.html' title='Crestfallen'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-113170195580980302</id><published>2005-11-11T17:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-12T05:13:04.303+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Quit</title><content type='html'>You know what? I just ran out of excuses for your behaviour, so there, I quit.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;There was a time when&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I would go walking backwards&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Round the world if you said you're mine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;And I'd run blindfold down the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kings Road Monday morning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;If you'd just for once arrive on time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;But you turned into another liar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;And you came on like a new Messiah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;So before you say what you desire&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm telling you now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I Quit! I Quit!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;'Cos loving you is a job I don't need&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ain't gonna go to work no more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I Quit! I Quit!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;The situation's vacant for me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ain't gonna go to work no more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ain't gonna go to work no more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ain't gonna go to work&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I got my hands dirty while you rolled cigarettes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;With one eye on the time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I tried my hardest, I've been conscientious&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;But I'm taking back that heart of mine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;You can't roll me round your tongue no more baby&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;It's time to clear up your emotional debris&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;And if I'm falling overboard, please don't save me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;'Cos I'm telling you now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I Quit! I Quit!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;'Cos loving you is a job I don't need&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ain't gonna go to work no more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I Quit! I Quit!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;The situation's vacant for me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ain't gonna go to work no more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ain't gonna go to work no more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ain't gonna go to work&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;It's too late to say you're sorry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;You're just like every other lover&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;A shot rings out and you go running for cover&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;And I'm so sorry that I can't be your mother&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;And I'm telling you now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I Quit! I Quit!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;'Cos loving you is a job I don't need&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ain't gonna go to work no more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I Quit! I Quit!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;The situation's vacant for me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ain't gonna go to work no more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ain't gonna go to work no more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ain't gonna go to work&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I Quit! I Quit! I Quit! I Quit! I Quit! I Quit!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ain't gonna go to work no more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ain't gonna go to work no more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ain't gonna go to work&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-113170195580980302?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/113170195580980302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=113170195580980302&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113170195580980302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113170195580980302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/11/i-quit.html' title='I Quit'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-113128400175644130</id><published>2005-11-06T20:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-08T14:22:04.440+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry-go-round</title><content type='html'>She'll let you in her house&lt;br /&gt;If you come knockin' late at night&lt;br /&gt;She'll let you in her mouth&lt;br /&gt;If the words you say are right&lt;br /&gt;If you pay the price&lt;br /&gt;She'll let you deep inside&lt;br /&gt;But there's a secret garden she hides&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Cuba: you've got to be fair to her, she loves you and if you don't love her, you've got to tell her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She'll let you in her car&lt;br /&gt;To go drivin' round&lt;br /&gt;She'll let you into the parts of herself&lt;br /&gt;That'll bring you down&lt;br /&gt;She'll let you in her heart if you got a hammer and a vise&lt;br /&gt;But into her secret garden, don't think twice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You've gone a million miles&lt;br /&gt;How far'd you get&lt;br /&gt;To that place where you can't remember&lt;br /&gt;And you can't forget&lt;br /&gt;She'll lead you down a path&lt;br /&gt;There'll be tenderness in the air&lt;br /&gt;She'll let you come just far enough&lt;br /&gt;So you know she's really there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She'll look at you and smile&lt;br /&gt;And her eyes will say&lt;br /&gt;She's got a secret garden&lt;br /&gt;Where everything you want&lt;br /&gt;Where everything you need&lt;br /&gt;Will always stay&lt;br /&gt;A million miles away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         &lt;br /&gt;There are times where i'd feel so tired of the game of merry-go-round, I'd kick myself for getting on in the first place. I want someone who can stop whatever it is he is doing, however important it may be, lift his head up to the skies with me and watch the crescent and the stars with all their splendor, and just be. Halt. Standstill. Just for a minute. It really is that simple. Just you and me. No words necessary. You didnt. Perhaps you wanted me to do the exact same thing with you and the Eddie Murphy movie, perhaps we are alike, perhaps not. No more thinking, i need to rest for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-113128400175644130?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/113128400175644130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=113128400175644130&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113128400175644130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113128400175644130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/11/merry-go-round.html' title='Merry-go-round'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-113069814383609171</id><published>2005-11-01T23:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-02T16:23:39.616+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Big Fat Greek Frog? Prince?</title><content type='html'>There are more words than one i can think of to sum up the week - bizarre, weird and ermm, a carousel ride too maybe? Dont get me wrong, its all that, in a good way. For a while now, i have a sneaking suspicion that i might be a bit of a drama queen, which is, at my age, not a very desirable quality. It all started last Saturday, a disconcerting answer to a question i asked pretty much upset me the entire week, until Thursday that is. Like they say, tragedy, given time, is comedy. And so, a bad movie, a good meal, a live band, and a couple of drinks managed to turn things around and made what seemingly was a lousy week into one that promises to be an enchanting weekend of romance, or so i thought. Then it happened, our first fight. Over something grotesquely moronic. I dont know if you can call it a fight, there were no hurling of insults at one another, no harsh words, not even the flashing of fiery eyes and to be honest, i was so titillated by the prospect of our first fight that it was hard for me to keep a straight face, in fact, i almost burst out in laughter while you were ignoring me. Fortunately i didnt, it would have been the worst thing to do in a fight, or a non-fight, whatever you call it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth be told, i feel inadequate and little when i am with you. I feel the constant need to be smarter, wittier, funnier, prettier and girlier, all of which i am a far cry from. So why me? When you can have any girl your heart desires? Well, pretty much any girl apart from Kate Hudson, i dont really think you're her type. Sometimes i cringe at my lack of uniqueness, something, anything, that sets me apart from your run-of-the-mill 26-year-old. My flaws are evident, as hard as i try to hide them. I hate it when a sms from you sends my heart leaping, I hate it when i feel more, i hate it that i cant figure you out, i hate it when i know that you are all that i've ever wanted and i have nothing to back me up, i especially hate it when you see right through me. Despite the above, there were good times, like that afternoon at Starbucks where i had my legs on your lap while you read your papers and myself, 1984 (yes, i am still at it). And the night we cuddled in bed, no words were spoken, you lifted my head gently and planted kisses on my lips, and then i said dont do that, i dont mean to stop kissing me, but dont, dont melt my heart like you did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How is it possible that i find myself once again in a labyrinth, and no matter which way i go, it keeps leading me back to the same spot, the spot where i found you? I guess there is nothing i can do but to hope that you do not devour me like Minotaur did ehh? So how did the barbeque go? Met the Greek chick you wanted yet? When you said "we" dont do jealousy, you mean blokes who think with their floppy disks right? You didnt let me finish that day before you spat on me, i was about to say that your funny accent, a cross between British and Greek? Love it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-113069814383609171?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/113069814383609171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=113069814383609171&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113069814383609171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113069814383609171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/11/my-big-fat-greek-frog-prince.html' title='My Big Fat Greek Frog? Prince?'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-113015825631439959</id><published>2005-10-25T12:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-25T00:52:48.746+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Always</title><content type='html'>I'll always be,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the fat, ugly, titless bitch with a face so flat you could land a plane,&lt;br /&gt;the girl whom when asked whats on her mind, tells you that she almost choked herself to death with the glob of phlegm stuck in her respiratory tract,&lt;br /&gt;the daft cow,&lt;br /&gt;the one who hates having her picture taken,&lt;br /&gt;the one who insists on having coffee at 2am in the morning,&lt;br /&gt;the one who wants her breakfast in bed, eat it too, and still thinks its not quite enough,&lt;br /&gt;the one who blows her mucus-clogged nose and doesnt give a hoot if you think its a disgusting sight,&lt;br /&gt;the one who tells you that fats spilling from your boxers doesnt make you the least bit attractive,&lt;br /&gt;the girl who is paranoid, insecure and just a tad neurotic,&lt;br /&gt;the one who falls harder,&lt;br /&gt;the great pretender,&lt;br /&gt;the underachiever,&lt;br /&gt;the one who cries convulsively at the movies,&lt;br /&gt;now that you said it, a bit of a hooligan as well,&lt;br /&gt;the one who is at ease staring into space for hours, whom you assumed had accomplished nothing in the last 6 years,&lt;br /&gt;the one who tries to convince you that hers is a brain of brilliance, and trying even harder to convince herself that there is at least something about her that is magnifique, if not her culinary prowess,&lt;br /&gt;the girlie bully, who really is, just a girl&lt;br /&gt;the one who teases your ineptness with a pair of chopsticks,&lt;br /&gt;the one whom you laughed at whenever she tries to swear after you in Greek,&lt;br /&gt;the one who knows that you are miserable, with not a clue why you are here,&lt;br /&gt;the one who would never be quite the same after having met you, knowing that you do exist, but could never figure how to move you,&lt;br /&gt;the one you almost had at 'allo'&lt;br /&gt;the one who refuses to admit that you made her laughed more than anyone ever did,&lt;br /&gt;the girl whose fortress trepidates, threatening to plummet, with every step that you take,&lt;br /&gt;the scaredy cat or chicken as you pleased, who is not sticking around to find out what comes next,&lt;br /&gt;the girl who could never be truly happy, not for long at least,&lt;br /&gt;the one who wished she had held you a little tighter, a little closer the last she did,&lt;br /&gt;the girl who might live to regret for being terrified, after all, you cant lose something you never quite had in the first place can you?&lt;br /&gt;the one who said it first,&lt;br /&gt;your malaka.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-113015825631439959?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/113015825631439959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=113015825631439959&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113015825631439959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113015825631439959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/10/always.html' title='Always'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-113008604129127763</id><published>2005-10-24T00:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-24T01:19:25.220+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Night Bobbie Sang</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="lyricscntnt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'll Never Fall In Love Again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What do you get when you fall in love?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A guy with a pin to burst your bubble&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That’s what you get for all your trouble&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I’ll never fall in love again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I’ll never fall in love again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What do you get when you kiss a guy?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You get enough germs to catch pneumonia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;After you do, he’ll never phone you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I’ll never fall in love again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I’ll never fall in love again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Don’t tell me what it’s all about&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;’cause I’ve been there and I’m glad I’m out&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Out of those chains those chains that bind you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That is why I’m here to remind you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What do you get when you give your heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You get it all broken up and battered&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That’s what you get, a heart that’s shattered&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I’ll never fall in love again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I’ll never fall in love again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Out of those chains those chains that bind you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That is why I’m here to remind you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What do you get when you fall in love?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You only get lies and pain and sorrow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So for at least until tomorrow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I’ll never fall in love again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I’ll never fall in love again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I’ll never fall in love again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I’ll never fall in love again&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/10999512-113008604129127763?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113008604129127763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/113008604129127763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/10/last-night-bobbie-sang.html' title='Last Night Bobbie Sang'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-112942399487000221</id><published>2005-10-16T08:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T19:28:54.186+08:00</updated><title type='text'>October 16, Sunday</title><content type='html'>For the first time, in a long while, i woke up before the sun's up on a Sunday. (i shall not divulge how long lest i should appear to be a L.A.Z.Y bum, which really, i'm not.) I've always left writing to Sundays simply because thats when you do absolutely nothing, recount the week's events and decide if it has been a good week or otherwise. And so, it has been a fantabulous week, with my dear friend back in Singapore, i foresee more of such weeks ahead. Welcome back Agus san, stay and we'll live happily everafter ehh? For someone who consumes alcohol on a daily basis, you were so wasted, its a disgrace. Ahem, i could still find my way after half a jug of vodka cranberry, 2 tequila shots and a few sips of beer, i'm getting better arent i? Love the dance moves we came up with, lets call it the Gusjam, what say you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having decided that i am ravenously hungry and cannot live on chocolates and chips alone like some, (a tiny Cadbury timeout, a mini Nestle Crunch and a few handfuls of Ruffles cheddar &amp;amp; sour cream chips was all that i ate the day before) i walked a few blocks to the coffeshop for a proper breakfast. I settled on the scenic route via the park and was pleasantly greeted by gentle gusts of wind blowing across my face. I closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths and felt so much at peace, glad even. A lo mai kai, a coffee and a few fags later, i feel almost ready to take on the world, a pity i didnt have to, just a loadful of laundry and a week's chores.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've given the gambling ship thingy some thought and decided against it, i have but a few bucks to last me till the end of the week, i really shouldnt do anything risky before my next paycheck, although there is always the "I could have". I'll go with the "an honest day's work with an honest day's pay" for now. On the agenda today we have:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Clean the cluttered room&lt;br /&gt;2. Laundry, laundry, laundry - phooey, phooey, phooey&lt;br /&gt;3. Make mum happy by being home just before she leaves the house&lt;br /&gt;4. Read - i'm still less than halfway done with 1984&lt;br /&gt;5. A movie/coffee with my mates when or should i say if,  i'm done with my chores&lt;br /&gt;6. Catch up on The OC before going to bed&lt;br /&gt;7. Hopefully hopping on to bed before 2 am&lt;br /&gt;8. Think like an adult, behave like a child&lt;br /&gt;9. Lose some weight, or grow taller, maybe?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will have to get going if i i'm to accomplish all of the above. Cheerios! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-112942399487000221?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/112942399487000221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=112942399487000221&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112942399487000221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112942399487000221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/10/october-16-sunday.html' title='October 16, Sunday'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-112896634173531609</id><published>2005-10-11T01:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-11T14:11:11.210+08:00</updated><title type='text'>And Then You Kissed Me</title><content type='html'>Early mornings, Saturday evenings. Walked, talked. Home-made apple pie, coffee at 5.45. 15 apples, 5 kilograms of rice. I cooked, you're hooked. Ran, 3 blocks or more than. Perspiring in the sweltering sun, shivering in the chilling snow. Roomie, Aussie. Cool, like you. Kate Hudson, Hugh Jackman. We are? We're not. Laughter, banter. Abused, amused. I snore, you snore. Do that, do that not. Malaka, baka. Jamie, Jimmy. You're the storm, i'm informed. You have the brains, its pretty plain. Locked in your embrace, planted kisses on your face. I'm shaking, heart aching. I want, I want not. Soaked in happiness, drowned in fears. Love is, love is not. I longed, i might be wrong. More than a contradiction, you're an addiction. Its a giant leap, will i end up in the heaps? Its too early to tell, and i've long fell. Here's a song, before i run along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;The Cardigans - And Then You Kissed Me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;man, i've had a few&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;but they wouldn't quite blow me like you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;you gave me your name and signed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;with a halo around my eye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;and it hit me like never before&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;that love is a powerful force&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;yes, it struck me that love is a sport&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;so i pushed you a little bit more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;love, you're news to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;you're a little bit more than i thought you'd be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;a mole in my well-fed lawn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;you're a nightmare beating the dawn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;oh, it hit me like never before&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;that love is a powerful force&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;yes, it struck me that love is sport&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;so i pushed you a little bit more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Blue, blue, black and blue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;red blood sticks like glue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;true love is cruel love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;red blood's a power-fuel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;sweet love, tasty blood&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;my heart overfloods&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;oh you hit me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;yeah, you hit me really hard&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;man, you hit me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;yeah you hit me right in the heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;lord, i've had my deal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;but i never quite knew how it feels&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;when love makes you wake up sore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;with fists that are ready for more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;and it hit me that love is a game&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;like in war no one can be blamed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;yes, it struck me that love is a sport&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;so i pushed you a little bit more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;oh, blue, blue, black and blue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;red blood sticks like glue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;true love is cruel love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;red blood's a power fuel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;sweet love tasted blood&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;my heart overfloods&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;man, you hit me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;yeah you hit me really hard&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;baby, you hit me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;yeah you punched me right in the heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;and then you kissed me...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;and then you hit me...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;oh, you haunt me with your violent heartbeat at night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;oh, you strike me with your silence baby, tonight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;why you haunt me with your violence baby, come hit me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;you haunt me with your violent heartbeat...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-112896634173531609?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/112896634173531609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=112896634173531609&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112896634173531609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112896634173531609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/10/and-then-you-kissed-me.html' title='And Then You Kissed Me'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-112761878708662274</id><published>2005-09-25T10:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T19:29:50.550+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A note to Baka</title><content type='html'>With you, baka, nothing seems to work out as planned. All for the exception of booze and food. The salsa and chicken burritos were kind of substandard i must say, but thank you anyway, for letting me sleep way past your chow hour and not lamenting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things we were supposed to do this weekend:&lt;br /&gt;1. Dip in the pool&lt;br /&gt;2. Do an awful amount of walking around Chinatown&lt;br /&gt;3. Making delectable tortillas for dinner&lt;br /&gt;4. Watch ESPN on cable&lt;br /&gt;5. Shop for exquisite pillow cases&lt;br /&gt;6. Read&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stuff we ended up doing:&lt;br /&gt;1. Slept&lt;br /&gt;2. Errand running at PS plus uncomfortable bus ride home (cramped spaces and squeals of irritating guffaws from the seat next to ours)&lt;br /&gt;3. Not quite delectable tortillas&lt;br /&gt;4. Someone slept while i watched Jamie Oliver on Discovery Travel and Living&lt;br /&gt;5. Uncovered pillows&lt;br /&gt;6. Barely read 2 chapters of my book&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are undoubtedly in love with your single bed while i need wide open spaces. I need sprawling without constraint and propelling from one side of the bed to another. I get cramps from your resting your head on my shoulders, and i'm sure your arms ache from mine. Our unsynchronised snoring and my refusal to do a number 2 at your place afflicted me with both insomnia and constipation. I can put up with your crankiness, kisses from your unshaven face and your verbal abuse, but i really need a bigger bed and most of all, i need you to step out of the house for some few minutes while i take a dump. Will you do that for me? Pretty please? (You'd better say yes!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything aside, i really like the way you smell, your melancholic sense of humour, your well-stocked larders and refrigerator, your tastes in music, your childish demeanour and your "lots of brains'. I really do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your malaka.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-112761878708662274?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/112761878708662274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=112761878708662274&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112761878708662274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112761878708662274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/09/note-to-baka.html' title='A note to Baka'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-112699412456533039</id><published>2005-09-18T05:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-18T05:55:24.573+08:00</updated><title type='text'>An Almost Perfect Weekend</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The rain, Friday night, cigarettes,  alcohol, music, a boy, a kid, and breakfast in bed. An almost perfect weekend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-112699412456533039?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/112699412456533039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=112699412456533039&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112699412456533039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112699412456533039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/09/almost-perfect-weekend.html' title='An Almost Perfect Weekend'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-112565726509525761</id><published>2005-09-05T13:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-09T01:31:00.370+08:00</updated><title type='text'>About changes, love and some</title><content type='html'>Sometime last week, i cant remember if it was between dinner and mahjong or coffee and karaoke that a dear friend said to me - I really wish you were who you were before and that you find someone who loves you for who you are, because you are more than that. That moment of epiphany kept my mind reeling for days. I wasnt always the cynical, snappy and difficult person that i am, i couldnt help but wonder, had i become the worst of me? Then again, some changes are inevitable and necessary. The mistakes we wish we hadnt made, the disappointments, the heartaches, the adversities and the long list of shouldas, wouldas, couldas had somehow become instruments of defence mechanisms we used to battle and better ourselves. The tricky bit however, is all about balancing, to be cynical and not indifferent, self-respecting and not proud, warm and not pretentious, i'm learning, not giving up and hopefully getting there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, things kind of get awfully perplexing when it comes love. Compromises are made and rules are broken as are hearts. Happily everafter exists only but in fairy tales, most of the time, you have to choose between happily or everafter, only to end up with naught. Is it true that there are fundamental attributes you cant change in a person? Is it also true that one cannot impose one's beliefs on another? Or when it comes to love, nothing really matters? The more i question myself, the less sense love makes. Perhaps it is not love that does not make sense but people in love. We make rules only for them to be broken, draw lines and create boundaries only for them to be stepped on. After all, true love transcends distance, time, space and just about everything. Or is it? What have i really learnt from my past relationships? Enough to know that even though it hurts, its better to have loved and lost than never to love at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on, George left last Sunday for Saudi Arabia, he seems to have an affinity for countries with the abbreviations S.A. It didnt seem that long since we first said hello, such is life i guess. I'm glad we caught up over breakfast, the air was cleared and tears were shed, till then, cheerios.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The week had been uneventful except for one funny little incident. Mr 007, as my friend had so amiably named him, gave me an account of his escapades or near death experiences so to speak. I so wanted to believe him for its better to have a CIA agent as an acquaintance than a Tom Clancy wannabe. Honestly, being shot and hiding underground is much too fictional to be credible, he might as well said he had been abducted by aliens, i expected more from him. Tsk tsk. For the first time in my life - I am more than that, there i said it, now i'll have to believe it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-112565726509525761?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/112565726509525761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=112565726509525761&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112565726509525761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112565726509525761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/09/about-changes-love-and-some.html' title='About changes, love and some'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-112464807135743247</id><published>2005-08-23T04:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T19:30:37.010+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The list of a hundred</title><content type='html'>In no order of preference, the list of 100 things that i love/would love, pretty predictable, thats just who i am i guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Long black/flat white/cappuccino/any of your usual ice blended at Holland Village in the late afternoons. Watching the world passes by, feeling as though i do not belong to this world&lt;br /&gt;2. Being alone&lt;br /&gt;3. The word indefinitely&lt;br /&gt;4. Making love in the wee hours of the morning, with the slightest rays of sunlight falling softly on the sheets and the birds singing&lt;br /&gt;5. Listening to music that makes your heart aches for no reason at all&lt;br /&gt;6. Watching movie after movie after movie 12 hours straight&lt;br /&gt;7. Men with sexy British accent&lt;br /&gt;8. Stilettos and strappy heels that&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; do not&lt;/span&gt; kill my feet&lt;br /&gt;9. Out of this world, nonsensical banter with an intellectual equal&lt;br /&gt;10. Greasy food and feeling guilty afterwards&lt;br /&gt;11. French, the language&lt;br /&gt;12. U2&lt;br /&gt;13. Crystal Jade's Shanghai soup dumplings&lt;br /&gt;14. Thick bath towels&lt;br /&gt;15. To rollerblade and not throw myself against the gravel ground, or worse, the lamp-post&lt;br /&gt;16. The ocean, an umbrella, me on a deck chair with a book and all of the afternoon&lt;br /&gt;17. Moisturiser on the soles of my feet, i'm not the only one, am i?&lt;br /&gt;18. Getting high on margaritas and not get sick&lt;br /&gt;19. Staring into space, not thinking about anything in particular&lt;br /&gt;20. Ikea furniture&lt;br /&gt;21. Colin Firth (yesterday, today and tomorrow)&lt;br /&gt;22. Donald Duck&lt;br /&gt;23. Walking barefooted&lt;br /&gt;24. Romantic comedies in the likes of When Harry Met Sally, Bridget Jones Diary, Nottinghill and Four Weddings and A Funeral&lt;br /&gt;25. To speak at least 4 languages fluently&lt;br /&gt;26. The airport&lt;br /&gt;27. Jane Austen&lt;br /&gt;28. Cheese - Parmesan, Cheddar, Mozzarella, Romano (No milk please!)&lt;br /&gt;29. Singing along with U2, Coldplay and Keane. Correction, screaming along, who cares if i cant sing?&lt;br /&gt;30. Second dates, where you lose the nerves of the first but still tingle with excitement when that someone smiles and looks at you&lt;br /&gt;31. Men's watches&lt;br /&gt;32. Sunsets&lt;br /&gt;33. Air-conditioning&lt;br /&gt;34. To fall ludicrously in love&lt;br /&gt;35. Olive green, sky blue and black&lt;br /&gt;36. Snowmen and snowglobles&lt;br /&gt;37. Shortbread&lt;br /&gt;38. Swings and see-saws&lt;br /&gt;39. Greece, since i was 14&lt;br /&gt;40. Ethnic jewellery, beads, shells and what have you&lt;br /&gt;41. The naked chef&lt;br /&gt;42. World Peace&lt;br /&gt;43. Bridge, Euchre and Mahjong&lt;br /&gt;44. Dance like nobody's watching, you've heard this one huh? Well, i've always been self-conscious, even in gay clubs! Tsk tsk&lt;br /&gt;45. Dogs&lt;br /&gt;46. Foot and body massages&lt;br /&gt;47. Breakfast in bed, no such luck yet, but i'm keeping my fingers crossed&lt;br /&gt;48. Rainbows&lt;br /&gt;49. My family, i feel guilty not putting them on the list&lt;br /&gt;50. And my friends, of course!&lt;br /&gt;51. Autumn&lt;br /&gt;52. Snorkeling in Phuket&lt;br /&gt;53. Parma ham with figs/melon&lt;br /&gt;54. Florida's Natural orange juice with extra pulp&lt;br /&gt;55. To cram as much knowlege and facts into my pea sized brain as possible&lt;br /&gt;56. To own a bookstore/restaurant sometime in the future&lt;br /&gt;57. To believe that La Vita E Bella&lt;br /&gt;58. The stars, the crescent, big cities and skyscrapers&lt;br /&gt;59. Croissants, baguettes, madeleines, French pastries in general&lt;br /&gt;60. Rainy days&lt;br /&gt;61. Fettucine carbonara&lt;br /&gt;62. Every Meiji product ever made&lt;br /&gt;63. Watching aeroplanes taking off and landing&lt;br /&gt;64. Growing my own vegetables&lt;br /&gt;65. Witty people with a sense of humour&lt;br /&gt;66. Cinema Paradiso&lt;br /&gt;67. Lingerie&lt;br /&gt;68. Christmas and everything about it&lt;br /&gt;69. The Little Prince&lt;br /&gt;70. Cycling&lt;br /&gt;71. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches&lt;br /&gt;72. The year 1995, cant remember much of it, but i'm sure at that age, i was probably happy&lt;br /&gt;73. Clothes that scream JAMIE! :p&lt;br /&gt;74. Gwyneth Paltrow's wardrobe&lt;br /&gt;75. Sarah McLachlan's voice&lt;br /&gt;76. Giraffes&lt;br /&gt;77. Marlboro Menthol Lights&lt;br /&gt;78. Indian sarees, bangles and nose piercing&lt;br /&gt;79. Sushi&lt;br /&gt;80. Economics (imagine that!?!)&lt;br /&gt;81. Grocery shopping, aisles and aisles of fresh and canned produce makes me happy&lt;br /&gt;82. Ennio Morricone&lt;br /&gt;83. Hugo Boss' Intense&lt;br /&gt;84. Cinnamon&lt;br /&gt;85. To learn to play the piano&lt;br /&gt;86. To do something for my parents, to make them happy, for once&lt;br /&gt;87. Blue mountain coffee&lt;br /&gt;88. Kayaking&lt;br /&gt;89. Not doing the laundry, especially ironing&lt;br /&gt;90. Spontaneity&lt;br /&gt;91. Reading while doing number 2&lt;br /&gt;92. King-sized beds&lt;br /&gt;93. Adrenaline rushes&lt;br /&gt;94. Snuggling in bed on a cold night with that someone (again, no such luck as yet)&lt;br /&gt;95. Eating with my hands&lt;br /&gt;96. Competition, just enough to spur you on types&lt;br /&gt;97. Pride and Prejudice&lt;br /&gt;98. Gummy bears&lt;br /&gt;99. Vanilla&lt;br /&gt;100. Not knowing what tomorrow brings, the mystery of tomorrow makes today worth living&lt;br /&gt;101. Wide open spaces&lt;br /&gt;102. John Donne&lt;br /&gt;103. Eat, Drink and be Merry&lt;br /&gt;104. Henry Mancini's Moonriver, over and over again&lt;br /&gt;105. LBDs&lt;br /&gt;106. Happy endings, at 26, it sounds almost pathetic, but i have, still do, and perhaps always will believe in happily ever after&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its so easy to get carried away, a hundred can easily become two, three and on. One needs to know when to stop. This is the new and improved list, i fucking forgot to save my work last night. Lol. Bonne nuit greedy little me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-112464807135743247?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/112464807135743247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=112464807135743247&amp;isPopup=true' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112464807135743247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112464807135743247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/08/list-of-hundred.html' title='The list of a hundred'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-112462653549112717</id><published>2005-08-21T15:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-21T20:17:59.740+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Song</title><content type='html'>A memory-evoking song&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'll Never Read Trollope Again - Dave's True Story&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;         I've an appetite for fiction&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;         No post-modern work can slake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;         I refuse to buy a book&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;         Unless it's thicker than a steak&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;         Now Gordon Lish and Barry Hannah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;         Have their partisans and shills&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;         But I prefer Victoriana&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;         For my literary thrills&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;         &lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And of all the British authors&lt;br /&gt;       Who were writing at that time&lt;br /&gt;       There's one special British author&lt;br /&gt;       I find especially sublime&lt;br /&gt;       Now Austen is awesome&lt;br /&gt;       And Dickens is a kick&lt;br /&gt;       But no one packs a wallop&lt;br /&gt;       Quite like Trollope&lt;br /&gt;       Yes Trollope is the one I most adore&lt;br /&gt;       But my days of reading Trollope are no more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I was sitting in a quaint cafe&lt;br /&gt;       With a favorite tome and some cafe au lait&lt;br /&gt;       But my luck ran out when you came my way&lt;br /&gt;       Now I'll never read Trollope again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You spied the cover as you slithered near&lt;br /&gt;       And said "The 1800s--that's my favorite year."&lt;br /&gt;       And then you sat right down and now I fear&lt;br /&gt;       That I'll never read Trollope again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Armed with Trollope and a cup or two&lt;br /&gt;       I could while the day away&lt;br /&gt;       Now just a dollop&lt;br /&gt;       Makes me think of you&lt;br /&gt;       And that's too high a price to pay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'll read Kafka's tale about that lonely vermin&lt;br /&gt;       I'll read every Jonathan Edwards sermon&lt;br /&gt;       Hell, I'll read Emmanuel Kant in German&lt;br /&gt;       But I'll never read Trollope again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I used to read him with a friend or two&lt;br /&gt;       I used to read him by myself&lt;br /&gt;       But to read him now only makes me blue&lt;br /&gt;       So I've tossed him from my shelf&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;         &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'll read Don Quixote five or six times through&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;        I'll read Jackie Collins till my face turns blue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;        Hell, I'll even read Bukowski too&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;        But I'll never read Trollope again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;        No I'll never read Trollope again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-112462653549112717?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/112462653549112717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=112462653549112717&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112462653549112717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112462653549112717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/08/song.html' title='A Song'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-112439572445990302</id><published>2005-08-19T03:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T19:31:40.453+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Food Glorious Food</title><content type='html'>If you had to choose between good cuisine and good sex, what would it be? Being the gourmand that i am, the answer is evident. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"You obviously havent had good sex, ever!?!!"&lt;/span&gt; Ad said teasingly. I shall not attempt to dignify the disparaging statement with a response. :p I stumbled upon a food blog today, i spent the last hour looking through the archives, salivating at pictures of muddy mud pies, chicken cordon bleu oozing provolone, mashed potatoes in thick gravy with sausages, curries of all sorts, buttered sweet corn in melted cheese, belgian waffles soaked in honey and a gazillion other scrumptious dishes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its amazing how a cup of pipping hot coffee can make a whole lot of difference in the mornings for some, or how simple chow like a cup of instant noodles can cheer one up. I eat when i'm happy, gorge when i'm depressed, binge when i'm bored, in fact, my life revolves so much around food that its a wonder i can think of anything else. LOL. Okay, if i am scaring anyone, i'm really not like that. I'm a dilettante in the realm of cooking, there are but a few dishes i can whipped up with pride. My long bean rice is out of this world although i must admit that i need to work on my curry, and if you havent yet noticed, i do have an issue with modesty. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right, all this talk about food is killing me, i really shouldnt be eating at this hour. Anyway, here's the recipe for long bean rice if anyone is interested. Its really easy to make, try it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ingredients (Serves 4, gluttons if i may add)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 cups of uncooked rice&lt;br /&gt;2 cups of fresh chinese long beans, cut them into about 2.5 inches each&lt;br /&gt;2 cups of dried mushrooms, soaked and sliced&lt;br /&gt;1.5 cups of dried shrimps, soaked&lt;br /&gt;1 can of luncheon meat, cut them into cubes&lt;br /&gt;2 chicken stock cubes/2 cups of chicken stock&lt;br /&gt;2 cups of water&lt;br /&gt;Lots of minced garlic&lt;br /&gt;Fair amount of cooking oil&lt;br /&gt;3 tablespoons of soya sauce&lt;br /&gt;3 tablespoon of teriyaki marinade (optional)&lt;br /&gt;Fresh pepper&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Instructions&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am too lazy to write step by step instructions so do not attempt if you are a complete idiot in the kitchen, otherwise, heat oil in large saucepan, saute minced garlic, throw everything else in, including the water you used to soak the mushrooms, simmer for 10 minutes. Dump everything in rice cooker and leave to cook and voila, ready to eat in an instant!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/1600/Long%20Bean%20Rice6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5086/874/320/Long%20Bean%20Rice3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Picture courtesy of YY. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-112439572445990302?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/112439572445990302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=112439572445990302&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112439572445990302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112439572445990302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/08/food-glorious-food.html' title='Food Glorious Food'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-112363311387657272</id><published>2005-08-11T14:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T19:33:10.890+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Much Ado About Nothing</title><content type='html'>Nothing much has been happening lately, National day came and went, uneventful. I have been staying home most days, pretty much immersing myself in the sea of books, music and movies. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds&lt;/span&gt;, if that were true, my brain has probably regressed into that of the size a pea or smaller, if that is possible. Came upon some really dandy tunes while listening to Yahoo LaunchCast Music - Iron and Wine, Bright Eyes, Elliott Smith, Kings of Convenience, The Shins, The Trashcan Sinatras, Sondre Lerche, Nada Surf, Jem, Pink Martini and Missy Higgins, enough music to last me for a couple of weeks. :) Picked up some few bucks last weekend selling preschool products at the JL sale at the EXPO for a friend of mine, i sucked as a salesgirl, that much i'm sure. I've always tried to avoid monstrous sales like such as much as i avoid the supermarkets on a Sunday. Crowds are just not my thing, would rather pay more to shop in comfort, not that i can afford to do that often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scraped my knees while rollerblading last night, served me right for not wearing knee guards. A nice old man offered me a plaster for the wound, bless his soul. As i was cleaning the wound, it occurred to me that the antiseptic wipes and iodine were bought on two separate occasions by 2 different friends. The iodine was for the time i fell off my bicycle, the wipes for tripping while rollerblading. A klutz is one of the more subtle names i've been called, those not so polite names include - a walking catastrophe and an accident waiting to happen. A friend once asked half seriously, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Jamie, what if you accidentally stab me with a steak knife while devouring our meat?" &lt;/span&gt;And he was one of the few whom i havent told about the incident with the London cab, which, by far, is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me. Just the other night, i was reading Sophie's World while sitting on the bowl with a tummyache, as i stood up to pull my shorts up, the book fell into the unflushed bowl, the first instinct was to flush, it didnt help of course. I stood watching Sophie's World in the whirlpool of pee and poo, praying that it wasnt destiny's way of telling me where my life was going. Beyond salvation, i wrapped the book in a bag and threw it down the rubbish chute. Laughed myself to bed that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On an entirely different note, some guy i dated last year appeared from the blue, apologising for his behaviour and thanking me for "everything". For someone who claimed to be working for the "SEE-EYE-A", he risked losing his job just to talk to me, he is a laugh and a half. My cousin is in town and bunking with us while she looked for a job, before this, i had no idea it was such a huge contrast, being a Malaysian versus a Singaporean. Crossing the causeway meant a whole world of difference, for once, i am thankful that i am on this side of the bridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao for now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-112363311387657272?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/112363311387657272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=112363311387657272&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112363311387657272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112363311387657272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/08/much-ado-about-nothing.html' title='Much Ado About Nothing'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-112221477033362416</id><published>2005-07-25T08:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T19:34:51.700+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Rainbow</title><content type='html'>Once upon a long long time, there lived a little girl who believed with all her heart that someday, all her dreams would come true. On her way home from school one day, she looked up and there in the azure skies above her head, was the most beautiful rainbow she has ever seen. Dumbstrucked and fascinated, she marvelled in awe of the red and yellow and pink and green. That was the first and only time I've ever seen a rainbow, or a real one at least. Perhaps this is one of the reasons i adore rainy days, the anticipation and the longing, the disappointment and the forlornness, then again with conviction, the yearning and the hoping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to keep reminding myself that with each passing day, i am closer to fulfilling my dreams of doing what i've always wanted to do. Only quite honestly, I've stopped believing that someday soon i will find myself teaching in China or being with the diseased/poor/homeless, doing whatever i can do to help, not everyone's that lucky i guess. Sheer luck could have explained Paul Coelho's timely intervention with his book The Alchemist, though i thought otherwise. Sometimes you have to want something really bad then somehow, miracles of miracles, you'll know where to go from there. You'd think most people wouldnt need half a decade to figure that out. Well, i guess i am not most people. Having squandered most of my precious youth being lost and feckless, now would a good time to put myself in perspective and fight for a change. The rainbow awaits, along with its promises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Somewhere Over the Rainbow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Version: Eva Cassidy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Somewhere over the rainbow&lt;br /&gt;Way up high,&lt;br /&gt;There's a land that I heard of&lt;br /&gt;Once in a lullaby.    &lt;p&gt;Somewhere over the rainbow&lt;br /&gt;Skies are blue,&lt;br /&gt;And the dreams that you dare to dream&lt;br /&gt;Really do come true.&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;Someday I'll wish upon a star&lt;br /&gt;And wake up where the clouds are far&lt;br /&gt;Behind me.&lt;br /&gt;Where troubles melt like lemon drops&lt;br /&gt;Away above the chimney tops&lt;br /&gt;That's where you'll find me.&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;Somewhere over the rainbow&lt;br /&gt;Bluebirds fly.&lt;br /&gt;Birds fly over the rainbow.&lt;br /&gt;Why then, oh why can't I?&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;If happy little bluebirds fly&lt;br /&gt;Beyond the rainbow&lt;br /&gt;Why, oh why can't I?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-112221477033362416?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/112221477033362416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=112221477033362416&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112221477033362416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112221477033362416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/07/rainbow.html' title='The Rainbow'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-112226979897694379</id><published>2005-07-24T13:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T13:38:53.533+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Epilogue (I can still feel the breeze that rustles through the trees, and the misty memories of days gone by...)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt; (heart pounding and hands shaking)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt;: &lt;/b&gt;Nobody uses ICQ anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;J&lt;/b&gt;: So why are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me&lt;/b&gt;: Well, I am nobody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;J&lt;/b&gt;: Who is this by the way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me&lt;/b&gt;: The name's Jamie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;J&lt;/b&gt;: Last name &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Tay&lt;/st1:place&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me&lt;/b&gt;: That's right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;J&lt;/b&gt;: Hey! How are you? Sorry, its been a while since i logged on to ICQ, dont know who is on and who isnt anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;(lying)&lt;/i&gt;: I'm great, couldnt be better. Yourself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;: Wow, time flies huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Small talk continues for like what seems forever&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(deep breaths)&lt;/span&gt;: So I heard you got married? Why would you do something stupid like that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;: Hahaha, eventually everyone needs to settle down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: So who is the unlucky lass?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;: You know who, same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: You are lucky to have her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;: I think so too. Yourself? Seeing anyone special? Found Mr Darcy yet, Bridget?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(muttering under my breath)&lt;/span&gt;: Nah, Mr Darcy's too boring, I dumped him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;: Hahaha. Not to worry though, I am sure you will find someone soon, just make sure you dont become too jaded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(lying, yet again)&lt;/span&gt;: Me? Ohh dont overestimate yourself, in case you are wondering, I am now the financially independent, sexy, intelligent woman with substance and inner poise, not to mention a sense of humour too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;: Hahaha. Whatever you say Bridget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: Well, I have to run, I have a lunch date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;: Take care and send my regards to your family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: Later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Now, that wasnt as hard as i'd imagined is it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-112226979897694379?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/112226979897694379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=112226979897694379&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112226979897694379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/112226979897694379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/07/epilogue-i-can-still-feel-breeze-that_24.html' title='Epilogue (I can still feel the breeze that rustles through the trees, and the misty memories of days gone by...)'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-111966013003313624</id><published>2005-06-25T07:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-25T08:42:10.040+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hotel Rwanda</title><content type='html'>For some reason, i am fraught with a sense of shame as i nibbled on my sandwich just as the ending credits of the movie Hotel Rwanda scrolled down the screen of my television set. A line from the movie reverberated in my head -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"How could people not intervene upon seeing the images of these atrocities?"&lt;br /&gt;"Believe me, most people would respond by exclaiming 'Ohh how horrible!' and then resumed their dinner."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must confess, i know little if not nothing about the Rwanda genocide in 1994. The Hutus and Tutsis stirred nothing in my memory, i was and still am oblivious and ignorant to the savagery of the world. Perhaps what scared me most was the fact that this gory annihilation took place barely a decade ago, it is hard for me to imagine that 800,000 Rwandans were brutally murdered because of an ethnic discord. I am fortunate to have been raised in a society where racial discrimination is minimal and ethnic harmony prevalent. (correct me if you think otherwise)  In my opinion, most of the problems in the world stem from discrimination of sorts. Racial, social, gender and the list goes on. Excuse me when i say little minds discriminate, discrimination is bigotry. We laughed when Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality was pressured to say World Peace at the end of her speech, these days world peace seems almost cliche. I cannot help but think that there must be something we can do. The answer screams out to me - Stop Racism! Hotel Rwanda captured the reality of the ethnic cleansing that happened and perhaps is still happening in some parts of the world. Watch it and be moved. It is real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-111966013003313624?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/111966013003313624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=111966013003313624&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111966013003313624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111966013003313624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/06/hotel-rwanda.html' title='Hotel Rwanda'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-111951768365497315</id><published>2005-06-23T15:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-23T17:27:44.156+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Musique</title><content type='html'>There,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Total volume of music files on my computer: 7.27 GB&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last CD I bought: &lt;/span&gt;Kathryn Williams - Relations (ermm, bought it more than a  year ago)&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Song playing right now: &lt;/span&gt;Does it count if i keep skipping those songs i dont feel like listening to? Finally stopped at Gordon Haskell's Freeway to Her Dreams&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 Songs I listen to a lot (lately) :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;1. Al Green - How Can You Mend A Broken Heart&lt;br /&gt;2. Lisa Ono - Flor De Yemanja&lt;br /&gt;3. Lisa Ono - Les Parapluies De Cherbourg&lt;br /&gt;4. Maureen Papovich - Moon River&lt;br /&gt;5. Robert Downey Jr. &amp; Vonda Shepard - Chances Are&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we've pretty much got everyone covered, I have no idea who else to pass the baton on but to anyone who reads this i guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-111951768365497315?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/111951768365497315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=111951768365497315&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111951768365497315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111951768365497315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/06/musique.html' title='Musique'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-111873781637851606</id><published>2005-06-14T17:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T19:36:06.970+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ageing</title><content type='html'>Mood: Old and weary&lt;br /&gt;Age: 20 + 6&lt;br /&gt;Cigarettes: 6&lt;br /&gt;Coffee: 2nd cup&lt;br /&gt;Hours slept: 3&lt;br /&gt;Song playing: Lisa Ono - I Wish You Love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time and tide waits for no man, i cant remember who said that but i would like to refashion that statement - time and tide waits for no man (female species in particular). Trust me for this is coming from someone who has only but a year before her skin stops renewing itself and her breasts embark on a journey down under, and i am not talking about Kangaroo Land. Late twenties is a scary prospect, those not so distant dreams during my teenage years did not materialize. There is one thing however, that i am truly thankful for, friends who were there, still there and i can safely say, will always be there. Through thick and thin, trials and tribulations and come what may, they are there to lend a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, a buck or two and even to sing you a birthday song in awkward unison. :) You know who you are, i love you guys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been a rough few weeks, trying to cope with examinations and dealing with emotional and mental crises. I can't remember the last time i felt genuinely happy, that is probably a sign that it has been too long. Sometimes shitloads of good coffee and friendship is enough, other times it just isnt. Simple things that used to make me smile dont work for me anymore, sometimes i worry about becoming blase and indifferent. I wish i have something to hold on to, a life buoy for the time being perhaps, until my ship sails in and bails me out. Toodles for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-111873781637851606?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/111873781637851606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=111873781637851606&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111873781637851606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111873781637851606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/06/ageing.html' title='Ageing'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-111822527603984173</id><published>2005-06-08T17:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-08T18:07:56.046+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Know Him By Heart</title><content type='html'>Maybe its that dreaded time of the year, perhaps its the void the heart longs to fill. I let the tears flow as Vonda Shepard's I Know Him By Heart palpate every fibre of my being. I'm perturbed, scared even. Yet i know, tomorrow, i'll laugh at how silly i'd been. Before tomorrow comes, before it takes away some of the sweet sorrow, i'll indulge in my absurdity for a while longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I Know Him By Heart&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;written by Paul Williams and Jon Vezner &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;performed by Vonda Shepard&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;There's a secret path I follow &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;To a place no one can find&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Where I meet my perfect someone&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've kept hidden in my mind&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Where my heart makes my decisions &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'Till my dream becomes a vision&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And the love I feel&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Makes him real someday &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'Cause I know he's out there somewhere&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just beyond my reach &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Though I've never really touched him&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Or ever heard him speak &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Though we've never been together &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We've never been apart &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No we've never met &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Haven't found him yet&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But I know him by heart&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Am I living in an illusion?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Wanting something I can't see &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If I compromise, I'd be living lies&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pretending love's not meant to be &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'Cause I know my heart's worth saving&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I know that he'll be waiting&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So I'll hold on and I'll stay strong 'till then&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'Cause I know he's out there somewhere &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just beyond my reach &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Though I've never really touched him&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Or ever heard him speak &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Though we've never been together &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We've never been apart&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No we've never met &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Haven't found him yet&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But I know him by heart &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No we've never met &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Haven't found him yet&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But I know him by heart &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-111822527603984173?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/111822527603984173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=111822527603984173&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111822527603984173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111822527603984173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/06/i-know-him-by-heart.html' title='I Know Him By Heart'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-111791147259547215</id><published>2005-06-05T05:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-05T12:31:23.353+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I can still feel the breeze that rustles through the trees, and the misty memories of days gone by...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Weather: Caused a migraine, cant be good can it?&lt;br /&gt;Song playing: Al Green's How Can You Mend A Broken Heart&lt;br /&gt;Cigarettes: 8 and counting&lt;br /&gt;Disposition: Drained&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My migraine is killing me, no amount of coffee nor aspirin can ease the throbbing pain. I should be sleeping, except that i cant. I committed a dastardly deed last night, called up an ex and hung up at the third ring. It all happened earlier this week, was with a friend when he pointed to a standing figure a distance away whom remotely resembled a certain someone. &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;Isnt that J? &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;It wasnt. I heaved a sigh of relief under my breath. I wasnt ready. 3 years had passed and still i wasnt the financially independent, intellectual, sexy woman with substance and inner poise like i said i want to become when we parted ways. I couldn't shake him off my mind and decided to look his name up on the yellow pages. So he is married, at least one of us did. I was reminded of the heartache from the days gone by. Felt a tiny twinge where the wound once ran deep. It is time to draw the full stop, like they say, time wounds, all heals. Someday perhaps, when i become the woman i always wanted to be, i would tap on his shoulder and say &lt;i&gt;hello. &lt;/i&gt;Then again, maybe i wont.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-111791147259547215?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/111791147259547215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=111791147259547215&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111791147259547215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111791147259547215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/06/i-can-still-feel-breeze-that-rustles_05.html' title='I can still feel the breeze that rustles through the trees, and the misty memories of days gone by...'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-111696933518506704</id><published>2005-05-25T05:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-25T05:24:20.473+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Me, my mum and curry</title><content type='html'>Was in unusual high spirits today, offered the family a taste of my curry chicken and what do you know, they liked it! My mum couldnt leave me alone in her dear kitchen, she thinks i'm invading her territory. She was quite a holy terror i must say, you should hear her - "Ginger in the curry?! Are you sure that's in the recipe?!" or "You are using way too much garlic, don't waste my precious garlic!" Okay, i added that bit, she didn't exactly say "my precious garlic". I had to hustle her out of the kitchen before i could really get anything done. It was really nice to hear her say that it wasnt that nasty tasting like she had expected, and i guess all that trouble was worth it when i actually saw her going for a second helping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is not very often that my mum puts me in her good books, most of the time we just stepped on each other's toes and drive one another up the wall. Its not that i derive some kind of warped thrill making her see red, we just dont see eye to eye to a lot of things. There are times where we simply stopped talking for as long as we can stand it, with my younger sister taking the role of an arbitrator, hopelessly trying to talk some sense into us. The truth is, i really do love her dearly. There is nothing she could have done to make her a better mum, she is perfect just as she is. It is times like these that i really appreciate my elder sister, for being the perfect daughter that my mum always wanted. I guess one out of three isnt bad at all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went roller blading after dinner, its been a long while since i did any decent exercise. I could feel my body protesting as i pushed myself up the suicide slope (yeah right) with all my might, the adrenaline rush rolling down was refreshing. Its been a good week so far, i feel almost ready to face the world. But for now, its time to plop onto bed, sleep and perchance to dream. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-111696933518506704?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/111696933518506704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=111696933518506704&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111696933518506704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111696933518506704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/05/me-my-mum-and-curry.html' title='Me, my mum and curry'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-111576316829092750</id><published>2005-05-11T06:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T01:36:15.056+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Delicate</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Delicate - Damien Rice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;We might kiss when we are alone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;When nobody's watching&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;I might take you home&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;We might make out when nobody's there&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;It's not that we're scared&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;It's just that it's delicate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;So why do you fill my sorrow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;With the words you've borrowed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;From the only place you've known&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;And why do you sing Hallelujah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;If it means nothing to you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Why do you sing with me at all?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;We might live like never before&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;When there's nothing to give&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Well how can we ask for more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;We might make love in some sacred place&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;The look on your face is delicate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;So why do you fill my sorrow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;With the words you've borrowed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;From the only place you've known&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;And why do you sing Hallelujah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;If it means nothing to you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Why do you sing with me at all?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;So why do you fill my sorrow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;With the words you've borrowed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;From the only place you've known&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;And why do you sing Hallelujah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;If it means nothing to you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Why do you sing with me at all?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You said it wouldn't be a tired, old, cliche novel. Then how come it is?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-111576316829092750?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111576316829092750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111576316829092750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/05/delicate_11.html' title='Delicate'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-111431668743625354</id><published>2005-04-24T12:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-24T13:12:08.826+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blue Mountain</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I've been addicted to coffee ever since i could remember, gulping down 5-6 cups of 3-in-1 coffee in a single day is no big deal, after all, caffeine is a student's best friend. Lately, i had my virginal experience with a cup of Blue Mountain, i swear i felt a tiny orgasm within me as I slowly breathe in the aroma, titillate my taste buds by bringing the cup close to my lips, and finally i took a little sip of this $13 a cup coffee. Needless to say, it tastes exactly as its price suggests, expensive. Fine, i am exaggerating, maybe just a little. So why the name &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Blue&lt;/st1:placename&gt;  &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;Mountain&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;, asked a friend. With a straight face, i told him, that the beans were grown on mountains that were blue, as everyone would have guessed. Often enough, simple answers to simple questions are not what people are looking for. A google search revealed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Well-known coffees are characterized by the regions where they are grown. Climate and soil qualities can make subtle changes to the flavour of the resulting coffee.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;The tropical &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;island&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;  of &lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Jamaica&lt;/st1:placename&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; has ideal conditions for growing coffee. Much of the island is covered with mountainous regions, including the &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Blue Mountains&lt;/st1:place&gt; which is the tallest range on the island. The &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Blue Mountains&lt;/st1:place&gt; are a perfect blend of rich, hot climate, plenty of rainfall and high altitude. At nearly 7,500 feet above sea level, this is one of the highest coffee regions in the world. The constant mist covering gives the mountains a bluish cast, which is where the name comes from. It's not all rugged moutain peaks. &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Jamaica&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; is also lined with amazing white beaches, too.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;The &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Blue Mountains&lt;/st1:place&gt; are also home to a 194,000 acre national park, created to preserve the national rain forests. This park is home to 800 species of plants and 200 species of birds, many of which are unique to the island. There are hiking trails all through the area. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Coffee is not native to &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Jamaica&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;. Beans were brought to the island in 1728 by the governor at that time, Sir Nicholas Lawes. The arabica beans flourished and now coffee is a major export. &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Japan&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; is the largest importer of &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Blue&lt;/st1:placename&gt; &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;Mountain&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; coffee (90%).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;st1:place style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Blue&lt;/st1:placename&gt; &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;Mountain&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; coffee has a very clean taste, with a noticable sweetness. The flavour is bold, smooth and rich. Because of the rather restricted geographical range where it is grown, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:place style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Blue&lt;/st1:placename&gt; &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;Mountain&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; is available in limited quantities and can sometimes be difficult to find. In order to maintain the high quality of this coffee, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:country-region style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Jamaica&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; has established the Jamaica Coffee Industry Board to oversee the production and processing. Most &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:place style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Blue&lt;/st1:placename&gt; &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;Mountain&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; coffee beans are grown by small farmers, rather than huge coffee estates seen in other regions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if the real reason why people are willing to pay so much more for a cup of coffee has everything to do with its name. Semi-consciously, we are all sipping a little romance from our daily cup. Blue Mountain anyone?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-111431668743625354?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/111431668743625354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=111431668743625354&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111431668743625354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111431668743625354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/04/blue-mountain.html' title='Blue Mountain'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-111387873313577518</id><published>2005-04-19T10:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-20T00:02:49.213+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Same Side of the Moon</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS,Verdana,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Same Side of the Moon - Corinne May&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking out the window&lt;br /&gt;Where we sat to watch the stars&lt;br /&gt;There's a chill within the air&lt;br /&gt;It makes my heart long for your touch&lt;br /&gt;You may be miles away&lt;br /&gt;But as I kneel to pray&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see the same side of the moon&lt;br /&gt;That we'll be looking on when the world turns blue&lt;br /&gt;And know that time and space can't come between me and you&lt;br /&gt;We share the same side of the moon&lt;br /&gt;And though you'll never see all the tears shine through&lt;br /&gt;I know I can't be that far from you&lt;br /&gt;If we're both looking on the same side of the moon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I picture you across the ocean&lt;br /&gt;In your corner of the world&lt;br /&gt;I pray the wind will blow my voice&lt;br /&gt;And gently whisper in your ear&lt;br /&gt;Your night may be my day&lt;br /&gt;And though the seasons change&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's still the same side of the moon&lt;br /&gt;That we'll be looking on when the world turns blue&lt;br /&gt;And know that time and space can't come between me and you&lt;br /&gt;We share the same side of the moon&lt;br /&gt;And though you'll never see all the tears shine through&lt;br /&gt;I know I can't be that far from you&lt;br /&gt;If we're both looking on the same side of the moon&lt;br /&gt;I know I can't be that far from you&lt;br /&gt;If we're both looking on the same side of the moon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-111387873313577518?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/111387873313577518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=111387873313577518&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111387873313577518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111387873313577518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/04/same-side-of-moon.html' title='Same Side of the Moon'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-111317074439861927</id><published>2005-04-11T05:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-11T06:05:44.400+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fears</title><content type='html'>Sometimes i scare myself silly with fears. For instance, the fear that i am not leading my life the way my parents expect me to lead and therefore, i am going nowhere, or i'm so afraid that I might lose the passion of pursuing my dreams before i could get any closer to fulfilling them, and sillier ones like I might not have the chance to ride on the ferris wheel with the one I love, or might not live to vist Greece. There are 1001 things on my &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;List of Things to do before 35&lt;/span&gt; and i think i might have to extend the deadline by at least another 10 years. The couple of things that are top on my list are: 1. To be financially independent, 2. To do volunteering work as soon as i can, 3. To fall ludicrously in love, 4. To move out. 5. To be happy. It's kind of frustrating, because 2, 4 and many others are dependent on 1. I'm cranky and disgruntled, then someone said, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dont fight with your family, be happy, someone cares for you, &lt;/span&gt;and everything seems a little trivial and frivolous. I know i would get there, somehow. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-111317074439861927?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/111317074439861927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=111317074439861927&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111317074439861927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111317074439861927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/04/fears.html' title='Fears'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-111155741364916402</id><published>2005-03-23T13:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-25T05:56:10.196+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Au revoir</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;One of the saddest thing in the world is having to watch the one you love walk away, as the distance between you and him stretched into an empty void. Yet if things were different, would we still have met and fell in love? You held my hand tight as i walked you to the departure gate, was it your way of reassuring me? If only you knew how hard it was for me to let you go, even if it was only for a short while. Maybe this isnt working for me anymore, waiting infinitely for something that might not happen. I need the courage to walk out, and the strength to heal, and above all, I need time to obliterate the memories of you and me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt; I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:lucida grande;font-size:100%;"  &gt;f sorry seems to be the hardest word, goodbye must be next. I felt the word on my lips, but it took a tremendous effort for me to say it out loud. I saw what we left behind, us in simpler, happier times. None of us wanted to say goodbye, but i needed to break away from the ghosts that haunt me night after night. Was it a mistake to begin with? Was it the wrong place, the wrong time or the wrong person? Or was it just blind cupid? "Every parting is a form of death, as every reunion is a type of heaven." so said Tryon Edwards. So i guess this is it, no tear floods nor sigh-tempests move, farewell my love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://au.search.launch.yahoo.com/mf/?type=video&amp;id=2167051"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Closest Thing to Crazy - Katie Melua&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;pre  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;How can I think I'm standing strong,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Yet feel the air beneath my feet?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;How can happiness feel so wrong?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;How can misery feel so sweet?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;How can you let me watch you sleep,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Then break my dreams the way you do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;How can I have got in so deep?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Why did I fall in love with you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;[CHORUS:]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;This is the closest thing to crazy I have ever been&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Feeling twenty-two, acting seventeen,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;This is the nearest thing to crazy I have ever known,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;I was never crazy on my own...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;And now I know that there's a link between the two,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Being close to craziness and being close to you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;How can you make me fall apart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Then break my fall with loving lies?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;It's so easy to break a heart;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;It's so easy to close your eyes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;How can you treat me like a child&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Yet like a child I yearn from you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;How can anyone feel so wild?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;How can anyone feel so blue?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;[CHORUS]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-111155741364916402?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/111155741364916402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=111155741364916402&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111155741364916402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111155741364916402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/03/au-revoir_111155741364916402.html' title='Au revoir'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-111109728197143515</id><published>2005-03-21T03:04:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T19:38:12.416+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Konichiwa Tokyo!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;10 Things I Like About Tokyo:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;1. It snowed the day i touched down! A city covered in beautiful sheets of white. I heard it hasn't snowed in the month of March for the last 7 years. Tokyo must love me! Lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Lai Xiuling and Yang Wenzhi, for your hospitality, warmth, and fun-loving sprits, and more importantly, for putting up with my thunderous snoring night after night. Tokyo wouldn't have been half as fun without you guys. Miss ya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Odaiba, where the pirated Statue of Liberty stands, has a romantic, almost dreamlike ambience that one feels there should be a lover's hand to hold as the night falls and the stars shine bright. A haven from the hustle and bustle of the city and please, please, please Stroll, not brisk walk here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Although I'm not quite used to Japanese speaking Donald Duck, it was quite a childhood dream came true to have visited Disney Land. For those who didn't think you'd be quite as excited and delighted seeing your favourite cartoon characters presenting themselves live before you, believe me, you would. It's the Disney magic, don't ask how, don't ask why, just be sure to click, click your cameras pronto, before the parade comes to an end. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Had Oyakodon on 2 occasions, enjoyed it to the very last grain of rice, Agus would say otherwise, but i say give me 2 stomachs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Smokers alert! Be aware of cigarette vending machines, they come in 2's sometimes 6 in a row. Cigarettes of all brands, colours and flavours, its the only thing you can buy without burning a hole in your pocket. I would have smoked myself crazy if not for the well-mannered Japanese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Talk about good breeding, wouldn't it be nice to shop and dine in a city where there are no bitchy sales girls and brusque waiters/waitresses? Dining in Tokyo was a pleasant affair, you'd be greeted with warm (can you picture that?!) welcomes and (I truly believe) genuine smiles. Plus, there's always a jug full of iced water and a boxful of tissues for your convenience. How thoughtful!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. One thing I couldn't resist was buying the exquisitely gift wrapped candies, cookies and cakes of all sorts. They seemed to be calling out to me, take me home, I may not be nice to eat, but am definitely nice to look at. Lol, only a glutton like myself could understand the agony of having to close my eyes each time I passed them by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. This may sound a little weird but i kind of like the fact that the girls in Japan cannot afford to be lazy. No respectable girl would leave the house without having their faces impeccably made up. Brows drawn, lashes curled, blemishes concealed and lips drawn. It's not entirely vain, its a form of courtesy, besides, they do look good, and thats how we had the impression that Japanese girls are pretty, its really mostly about diligence and discipline.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Lastly, i know i wouldn't have had the chance to tour Tokyo the way i did if not for Agus. Thank you for taking me to the temple and park in Narita, where i've made the very first snowman of my life. The imperial palace where the beautiful bare trees lined the streets, the high-end district of Ginza, the aerial view of Tokyo from Tokyo Tower, and the gigolos of Shinjuku. The "inexpensive" and hip Harajuku, dinner at Izakaya followed by karaoke, coffee in Shibuya, char siew bun in Yokohama, the flea markets of Ueno, Rainbow Bridge in Odaiba, and not lets not forget the rollercoaster rides in Disney Land. Domo Arigato Gozaimasu!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-111109728197143515?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/111109728197143515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=111109728197143515&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111109728197143515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/111109728197143515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/03/konichiwa-tokyo.html' title='Konichiwa Tokyo!'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-110957073489824206</id><published>2005-02-28T13:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T19:38:58.923+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Murdered! Days of Our Lives</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I was getting my usual dose of afternoon soap ie. Days of our Lives when a tiny message flashed across the bottom screen : This is the last episode of DOOL, channel 5 will no longer be showing this series. Thank you. I was torn between feeling relieved and outraged. What?! 8553 gruelling hours of watching the love triangle between Bow, Billy and Hope and there's no last act? How could they do this to me? Hours and hours of devotion to the series and now there's nothing to show for. !@#$%$@ Just as well, for these are the days of our lives. Lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-110957073489824206?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/110957073489824206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=110957073489824206&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/110957073489824206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/110957073489824206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/02/murdered-days-of-our-lives.html' title='Murdered! Days of Our Lives'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-110953776040691807</id><published>2005-02-28T04:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T19:39:54.700+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Piano Man</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I love my cigarettes, even though I've made an involuntary claim to quit smoking for it now costs an extortionary $11 a pack, but who am i kidding? While puffing away at the park downstairs today, I met a man on a wheelchair, it was quite a sad sight, he was trying painfully to manoeuvre his wheels down a slope with the two good limbs he had left. His story? A car accident in 2001 which costs him his legs and left eye. He hasnt been out of the house since the car accident, and when asked of his family, he averted his one good eye and told me it was a long story. We chatted for a while before he took the lift up to his sad little flat on the 12th floor. "Try to quit smoking okay girl" were his words to me before the lift doors closed. These kind words from a stranger made me feel a little small, i should seriously think about quitting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Here's a song for you, my neighbour on the little wheelchair.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;The Piano Man by Billy Joel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;It's nine o'clock on a Saturday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;The regular crowd shuffles in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;There's an old man sitting next to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Makin' love to his tonic and gin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;He says, "Son, can you play me a melody?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;I'm not really sure how it goes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;But it's sad and it's sweet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;and I knew it complete&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;When I wore a younger&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;man's clothes"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;La la la, de de da&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;La la, de de da da da&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Chorus:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Sing us a song, you're the piano man&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Sing us a song tonight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Well, we're all in the mood for a melody&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;And you've got us feelin' alright&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Now John at the bar is a friend of mine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;He gets me my drinks for free&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;And he's quick with a joke&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;or to light up your smoke&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;But there's someplace that he'd rather be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;He says, "Bill, I believe this is killing me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;As the smile ran away from his face&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;"Well I'm sure that I could be a movie star&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;If I could get out of this place"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Oh, la la la, de de da&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;La la, de de da da da&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Now Paul is a real estate novelist&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Who never had time for a wife&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;And he's talkin' with&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Davy who's still in the navy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;And probably will be for life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;And the waitress is practicing politics&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;As the businessmen slowly get stoned&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Yes, they're sharing a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;drink they call loneliness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;But it's better than drinkin' alone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Chorus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;It's a pretty good crowd for a Saturday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;And the manager gives me a smile&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;'Cause he knows that it's me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;they've been comin' to see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;To forget about life for a while&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;And the piano, it sounds like a carnival&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;And the microphone smells like a beer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;And they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;And say, "Man, what are you doin' here?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Oh, la la la, de de da&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;La la, de de da da da&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Chorus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" href="http://www.midisite.co.uk/midi_search/billy_joel_piano_man.html"&gt;The Piano Man Midi File&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-110953776040691807?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/110953776040691807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=110953776040691807&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/110953776040691807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/110953776040691807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/02/piano-man_28.html' title='The Piano Man'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-110914490616822327</id><published>2005-02-23T14:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-23T18:26:18.423+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Birth of a blog Part  2</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Guys guys, you've got to cut me some slack, a few days is nothing compared to the zealous fans who have been waiting forever for a post. :) Lol. Enough of bull crapping, lets get this started. The birth of this blog has been a laborious affair, and i want to thank the many friends who made this possible - Faith who blurted "its too green!", YY, Agus and Anonymous 1 &amp; 2 for the encouragement. ;p Seriously, writing has never been my forte, so in my first post, i would rather share with you one of my favourite love poem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Sonnet 17&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I love you as certain dark things are loved,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; secretly, between the shadow and the soul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; hidden within itself the light of those flowers,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; and thanks to your love, darkly in my body&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I love you simply, without problems or pride:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I love you in this way because I don't know any&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; other way of loving&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; but this, in which there is no I or you,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; that close.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Pablo Neruda &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-110914490616822327?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/110914490616822327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=110914490616822327&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/110914490616822327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/110914490616822327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/02/birth-of-blog-part-2.html' title='Birth of a blog Part  2'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10999512.post-110905403348787446</id><published>2005-02-22T14:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-23T14:51:05.236+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Birth of a blog Part 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Test&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10999512-110905403348787446?l=mindlessmoth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/feeds/110905403348787446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10999512&amp;postID=110905403348787446&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/110905403348787446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10999512/posts/default/110905403348787446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mindlessmoth.blogspot.com/2005/02/birth-of-blog-part-1.html' title='Birth of a blog Part 1'/><author><name>mindless moth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13807553534179372448</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Fr5EK8x8Wf0/R5HP5CJ0VxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/rTwe0blo8IQ/S220/DSCN2056.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
