<?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-1583067161362194808</id><updated>2011-11-27T15:13:37.041-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ramblings Of An @Nti$0Ci@L</title><subtitle type='html'>Just thoughts that go through my head throughout the day. You, the reader may or may not like it and those are just your opinions. And I'm entitled to mine. Tough luck. *pout* Oh phooey...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>28</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-4300780170263286163</id><published>2010-08-02T08:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-02T09:15:14.353-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Facebook overload</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"&gt;"OMG!!! F**k you Facebook. What's wrong with it? I've been trying and trying and I still can't login. What is the matter????"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Okay mind you that up there might be a wee bit of an exaggeration on my part but I pretty much see some thing along those lines every once in awhile when I login to Facebook. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;No they are not angry at someone or anyone for the matter. They are actually being all pissy about how they can't login to a Facebook game. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Somewhere out there, there is some poor overworked server is being fixed or maintain after a long hard week of working to provide free games to all the Facebook users in the world. And this is what it gets .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;But seriously. I think Faceook game users are a lil too preoccupied with the games to take it so seriously. I'm a Facebook games player as well, don't get me wrong. But I don't get how someone could get so riled up over the fact that they can't login to harvest some crops or beat up some mafia or play farmer or run your very own nightclub, restaurant and/or hotel. I have my fair share of games not loading. Flash player not up-to-date although I just updated it a minute ago. Or I get the 'Sorry the game is under maintenance'. So yea I get frustrated too but not to that extend. I just don't get it.&lt;br /&gt;&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/1583067161362194808-4300780170263286163?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/4300780170263286163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=4300780170263286163&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/4300780170263286163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/4300780170263286163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2010/08/facebook-overload.html' title='Facebook overload'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-668062962954943634</id><published>2010-03-04T06:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-04T06:41:46.168-08:00</updated><title type='text'>PMS And Breaking Up</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I have decided that there is  link between PMS and breaking up. Maybe it's because of the hormonal imbalance that make us crankier then usual but for most of my failed relationship, I have noticed that most of the time I was going through a weird PMS motion that makes me intolerable, unbearable and down right bitch when it comes to controlling my temper.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;And with that known, I have tried to 'manage' this phenomena but unfortunately as many have said it, life isn't fair. And every time when I decided to stop being such a bitch and not be so indecisive, I get hit by the fact that I can't get what I want when I want it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;That's life for you I guess... Sigh...&lt;/span&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/1583067161362194808-668062962954943634?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/668062962954943634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=668062962954943634&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/668062962954943634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/668062962954943634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2010/03/pms-and-breaking-up.html' title='PMS And Breaking Up'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-4080285683622865648</id><published>2010-02-07T05:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T05:57:10.224-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Small Glimmer Of Hope</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Today I found out that one of the new friends my mom made when we moved to the new house a year ago, has passed away. My dad was telling me the last time they met was for breakfast and the day after they never saw him again. We assume that his health got worse and he was hospitalised then. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;So my dad was saying that during their last conversation that the uncle mentioned about bring my parents to have some nice '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;bak&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;kut&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;teh&lt;/span&gt;'. And of course it never happen. So when they found out that he passed away, as typical Chinese, my dad took down the uncle's car number plate number and went to a lottery shop (You know, one of those shop where you predict the numbers that are coming out in a draw... Yea one of those).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;So according to my dad, this friend of his only buys from one shop only, Magnum 4D. So my dad bought the lottery from this same place and he went his merry way home. The next day he checked the results. And what do know, the number came out. Second prize no less.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;But my dad thought he don't get any winnings because he bought the number in such a way that it might not be eligible for the first 3 draws prizes. So he crumple the ticket up and threw it away. And then he found out that he can actually get something out of it. A small winning of RM160. So he went home and found the crumpled ticket that he threw. And here we are where my dad was telling me about it and how the uncle wanted to bring him and my mom for food. We guess this winning is a way of him telling them that '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;bak&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;kut&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;teh&lt;/span&gt;' was still on him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I'm never one to believe in such a thing. You know how when an accident occur on a highway and there will be a huge jam on both side with people trying to see what had happened. Most of the time it will be the Chinese drivers that want to have a glimpse of the car number plate so that they can buy a lottery ticket with it. And most of the time the number never come out in the results.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;But in this case such as my dad, I guess these are the occasions that are still keeping people with the small glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe that the number that they buy will come out and they win the jackpot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;... something to hope for for everyone in this world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.... well, '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;bak&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;kut&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;teh&lt;/span&gt;' for dinner tomorrow in honor of this uncle's fine contribution. =D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1583067161362194808-4080285683622865648?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/4080285683622865648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=4080285683622865648&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/4080285683622865648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/4080285683622865648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2010/02/small-glimmer-of-hope.html' title='The Small Glimmer Of Hope'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-7521139275208901762</id><published>2010-02-07T05:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T05:33:15.236-08:00</updated><title type='text'>..... *gasp* .....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;OMG OMG OMG OMG!!!!! SHOCKED!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;*glow glow* *glimmer glimmer* *giggle giggle*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;..... ah you must be wondering why I'm in such ecstatic mood. What put me in this mood?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;No. I didn't win any money or found out that I have a huge inheritance waiting for me when I turn 26.... I'm just happy that after weeks of being told that my English is not up to par or that I've been constantly being corrected ... I finally got a break today. Mr. Perfect English said to me that I pronounce 'neither' the right way and he pronounce it the slightly wrong way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Teehehehe... Happiness.... (Yes yes I find happiness in the tiniest thing) Teehehehe....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*gloooow* *sparkle sparkle*&lt;br /&gt;&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/1583067161362194808-7521139275208901762?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/7521139275208901762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=7521139275208901762&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/7521139275208901762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/7521139275208901762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2010/02/gasp.html' title='..... *gasp* .....'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-6472858649014776583</id><published>2010-02-03T01:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-03T01:13:32.233-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Tired</title><content type='html'>Sigh... Never enough. What I do is never enough. I feel tired and beginning to think that all the guys out there are just not for me. Or at least the guys I meet are not for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They say one thing but in the heart they mean something else. They tell you that they don't expect anything but yet when you do something, they go all ballistic on you saying that you're doing it intentionally to hurt them &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;yada&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;yada&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't they just say, " I don't like it. Can you not &lt;insert&gt;?" instead of going all psycho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Meh&lt;/span&gt;, getting tired of all this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/insert&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1583067161362194808-6472858649014776583?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/6472858649014776583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=6472858649014776583&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/6472858649014776583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/6472858649014776583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2010/02/im-tired.html' title='I&apos;m Tired'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-7702570709719971869</id><published>2010-01-14T07:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T08:01:08.179-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Convenience When It Suit You Best</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Laughable. Really laughable. People are really funny. They preach and they talk and they say everything and anything when it best suit them in whatever situation that put them in the best light. Oh and they tend to develop memory lost or memory alterations when you try to call them out on it. Makes you question yourself if you are going mad or senile or just getting an early symptom of Alzheimer, huh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I recent got into an argument with this guy regarding another friend of ours. I was basically defending or helping the other guy out seeing that I felt bad that he was in that situation was partly because of me in the first place. And this guy (who I will refer as Mr P for ease of reference) was hammering at this friend like he was some a week old leftovers. And I thought "Gosh, do you even regard him as a friend at all man?" And so I said to Mr P that if he could say and do what he did to this supposed friend of his because of something petty that he himself is being petty about, then he doesn't regard him as a friend then. And he said yes without a pause. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Which makes me question more if Mr P ever consider this guy a friend in the first place. To be mad and angry at him for something petty that no ones cares about. At something that he and him alone is being all worked up because he has issues the other related parties.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Oh the best part is that not a few months ago Mr P was giving me a thrashing for being mean to this very same friend of ours. (Yes I admit I had been somewhat hostile towards this guy since I was fed with misleading guidance and information about this guy from our very own Mr P. Well not so mislead, more on not putting him in very good light. Just the bad light). I got thrashed for being hostile to his FRIEND, he dare say then. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;So as I was sitting there listening to him telling me that he does not treat this guy a friend, that got me thinking and I can't help but to smile that humans will be humans. When the situation suits the circumstances, you change and adapt to survive.&lt;/span&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/1583067161362194808-7702570709719971869?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/7702570709719971869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=7702570709719971869&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/7702570709719971869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/7702570709719971869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2010/01/convenience-when-it-suit-you-best.html' title='Convenience When It Suit You Best'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-2499127248788796564</id><published>2009-12-21T04:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-21T05:01:26.033-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Hate Being Alone</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Ever since I started dating back in secondary school, I have never been alone for more then 3 months. And even in that 3 months, I have school friends to fill my time with." I said to my colleague. But I fail to mention as well was that even during that 3 months I wasn't really alone per &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;se&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;. I still got people around me. People as in other potential guys.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I just got out of a relationship a month ago and I had other guys around me since then. Then I was talking to an old friend and she mentioned something that tweaked my brain. She said something in regards to my near never ending string of guys. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;So here I am now. Burning bridges to all the guys that are interested. Why am I doing this? Inflicting the very thing that I hate most onto myself? Frankly I don't know why. I just know that I don't want to get hurt anymore nor do I want to hurt anyone unintentionally. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I see the pattern of my relationship life. I get into a relationship. It ends. There begins the string of potentials showing up. One selected. We date casually at first with no promise of forever. Eventually we still ended up being exclusive. There the cycle starts over. I feel like I'm in an never ending rebound relationship since 4 years ago. Usually I'm the dumper (Yes the guilty one) until I became the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;dumpee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; and I headed downwards since then.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Strangely I've have never minded being alone previously but after that particular relationship, I realised I don't like being alone at all. I like being with someone. I wanted to and liked sharing my life with someone. As I always said, he was the one that showed me how to love and be loved. But now I'm trying to regress back to who I was prior to that. It seems better. I don't get hurt and I get to chase my dreams with no care who I left behind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;But the loneliness hurts...&lt;br /&gt;&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/1583067161362194808-2499127248788796564?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/2499127248788796564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=2499127248788796564&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/2499127248788796564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/2499127248788796564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-hate-being-alone.html' title='I Hate Being Alone'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-137863250029301148</id><published>2009-11-09T09:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T10:48:41.096-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The End of an End of a Beginning - 1</title><content type='html'>All is over. Heart broken. Emotions tore apart. Eyes wet with tears. Effort spent. And the dreaded words said. I guessed I expected it way earlier then it happened but still it caught me by surprise. Wasn't so ready as I expected myself to be. Everything that we have gone through for the past 1 and half years doesn't seem enough to see this through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cried. I died. I talked. I hugged. And eventually (faster then I thought), I stood up a little to face the world. With help from friends, I was made realise what my problem was. Why I was so taken and hurt from all this. I was made to wake up and see that I rely on them (not just him) too much for everything in my life. I involve them too much. I was too afraid to face the world alone that I needed someone by my side to guide me and be the beacon of light for me. Hence I fall harder then anyone else when everything ended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also someone said to me that maybe, just maybe I don't love him but the idea of having someone in my life. Though I object to that notion but I can't help but to think if it's true since he said that he had in his mind to shaped me into the prefect mould that he has constructed in his mind to be the person he thought me to be though I have nothing but honest on who I am from the beginning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I feel better. I have a better grasp on my emotions that I don't break down and cry easily. Emotions still run around but I have a better idea how to handle them now. I will still get affected by things and memories but I know i can take them and tell myself that it is okay. I will still shed some tears now and then and I won't feel bad or stop them because I'll tell myself that after this, I'll stop and move forward. With that said, I would have to say that if he comes to me to ask if we could start over, I would still give it a thought before answering. I won't say no out of principles nor would I say yes because the idea of having him back. The fact remains that I still do love him very much (aside from what was said by my friend) and that I still think that things could have turned out differently if I did things differently and put in more effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that in a relationship that there is always someone who loves the other more and that they are willing to give 150% of effort, pain and sacrifices and still not think that it is an unfair trade. There is no such thing as a fair and equal relationship. Is the people who can make the relationship feel fair and not any 3rd parties outside. And quoting from a friend, "&lt;span id="profile_status"&gt;Commitment. Communication. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Compromisation&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Condonation&lt;/span&gt;. Conciliation. The 5Cs that makes a relationship work.", I think it's true too. It takes both hands to clap and it takes both parties to give and take a little.&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/1583067161362194808-137863250029301148?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/137863250029301148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=137863250029301148&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/137863250029301148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/137863250029301148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2009/11/end-of-end-of-beginning-1.html' title='The End of an End of a Beginning - 1'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-1487187785738814717</id><published>2009-10-25T03:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T03:44:29.789-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Week 1 - Peaaceful</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;First weekend of peace. Good start I guess. Well peaceful enough I think. Only one thing happened but I mange to hold my tongue. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Was heading to a friend's place for board games night but on our way there, found out that the friend was out for dinner. Why it didn't occur to him to either drive back to my place or his to wait since we don't live very far from the friend's place, I don't know. So instead we just drove around around the neighborhood waiting. Then after about an hour or so, still no sign of the friend, I suggested going somewhere to get something sweet (actually was because I was getting tired of sitting in the car and a headache was pounding in my head. And for suggesting such thing, I got snapped at saying that he don't want to and because he just eat. Speechless as I was, I manage to say never mind then. After awhile only he asked what was exactly that I wanted. Just told him never mind. Not going to say much since he already said that he doesn't want to. So decided to take a nap then since he said he wants to continue driving around. I curled up and slept with my back facing him. At a traffic light he asked what wrong with me in an irritated way. So just said that since he wanted to drive about, I'm going to take a nap. And thats that. He continued driving about while I slept until the friend was home. Not very sure how long thats was, but was having a slightly pounding going on when we arrived. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;So I mange not to say anything that might start a fight. Yay. But it hurts nonetheless. Pathetic. Made my choice though.&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/1583067161362194808-1487187785738814717?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/1487187785738814717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=1487187785738814717&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/1487187785738814717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/1487187785738814717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2009/10/week-1-peaaceful.html' title='Week 1 - Peaaceful'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-1466232301446330994</id><published>2009-10-08T18:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T19:01:19.843-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Keeping promises</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Just occur to me yesterday that I'm working hard to keep to my promises made but however the other end is not keeping to it because he can't. It's just typical I guess for a guy to break promises whenever they want. I have enough faith for both of us that we can do this. People can adapt but only if they want to. And I want to, so I keep to my end. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;You're just to selfish. You say that you're free-spirited and that you can be impulsive. Well I just say that is an bullshit excuse to disrespect someone, not bothered by their feelings, do your own thing and then come back later to blame us for demanding too much. Maybe you just like being single again. Having the feeling that you can go out and flirt all the other girls around. Or maybe you just want to impress that one person to show that you may not be attached after all and that you maybe interested. I say ego and pride speaking.&lt;br /&gt;&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/1583067161362194808-1466232301446330994?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/1466232301446330994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=1466232301446330994&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/1466232301446330994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/1466232301446330994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2009/10/keeping-promises.html' title='Keeping promises'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-6255845493143853907</id><published>2009-10-06T18:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T19:31:48.935-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You Would Think That.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;After arguing for like nearly a month and ending in a (I hope) profound discussion that we could have things moving smoothly again. Instead now I have a very cold, distant and detached boyfriend that I'm not even sure if he is mine anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;He says he is trying not to upset me in anyway and at the same time try to be more thoughtful. However, this in turn has made him very unaffectionate at all. He doesn't do the things he used to do anymore. He doesn't bother holding my hand anymore when we walk together and when I kissed to say good-bye, it just feel really awkward and weird. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;And he seems more at ease talking to her than me. We used to talk so much. Share so much. Now we hardly talk at all. Maybe she would be better for him. Maybe what he needs is someone who doesn't need his attention and affection. Someone independent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I don't know what to do. I don't feel angry because I think I'm all out of anger. All I'm left is uncertainty and disappointment. I'm just so tired right now.&lt;/span&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/1583067161362194808-6255845493143853907?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/6255845493143853907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=6255845493143853907&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/6255845493143853907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/6255845493143853907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2009/10/you-would-think-that.html' title='You Would Think That.....'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-7228001364506444646</id><published>2009-10-05T01:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T01:46:31.647-07:00</updated><title type='text'>*ponder*</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Hmmm...  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Boyfriend rather go have (expensive) lunch instead of coming looking for his sick girlfriend who went down first to get lunch because he was busy (apparently) with work &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;(-1point)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;. So instead of calling his girlfriend to ask where is she eating so that he can come over &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;(-1point)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;, he just called to say he is eating in McD and asked if I wanted the promotional cup &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;(1point)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Total  : -1point&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Yes, I'm quite diappointed in this situation. But what can I do, apparently I must fight for my boyfriend's affections with someone who isn't even a  family member. Sad.&lt;br /&gt;&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/1583067161362194808-7228001364506444646?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/7228001364506444646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=7228001364506444646&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/7228001364506444646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/7228001364506444646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2009/10/ponder.html' title='*ponder*'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-8063455514159091323</id><published>2009-10-05T00:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T00:48:46.693-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Violence Tendency</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Have you ever wanted to punch someone in the face just because you hated their stupid face? I have and in fact at this very moment I wish I could be punching that person's face in just because. Yes I have issues with my violent imaginations.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I think I have always been this &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;'imaginative' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;because as far as I remember I have violent thoughts towards people that I'm either angry at or just because. The most vivid imagination I had last time when I was quite young, was that I would take a chopper knife to someone head. Of course that never happen, it was all in my imagination. But occasionally I had wished that I can act on my tendency. Not the chopping people part, but the milder version of bashing their face in that only plastic surgery would be required. Unfortunately I realize that my imagination right is not so good. What's left is the tendency and urge to do it. But I must say my control is super that I have never acted on it still.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Ah well, I don't think I'll ever act on it. I'll content myself to try to get a more vivid imagination on how I can bash the b****'s face in when I see her everyday.&lt;/span&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/1583067161362194808-8063455514159091323?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/8063455514159091323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=8063455514159091323&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/8063455514159091323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/8063455514159091323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2009/10/violence-tendency.html' title='Violence Tendency'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-3273927621252652948</id><published>2009-10-01T00:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T00:24:32.864-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's just me...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Meh, just want to rant since I can't actually rant to anyone right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just thought that with all the argument and drama and shit that have been happening for the past 2-3 weeks, we could spend the weekend together. Plus this is the one week deadline. And especially so since I found out that my class was cancelled this week for reasons unknown to me. But... sigh ... he decided to work instead and could only manage to meet for lunch. And in case I forgot to mention which day this is, it's a Sunday. A day where there is suppose to be no work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh... just my luck. First I have to deal with a guy who can't differentiate between a guy friend and girl friend. Now I get the alternate version. The workaholic. Shit.&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/1583067161362194808-3273927621252652948?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/3273927621252652948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=3273927621252652948&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/3273927621252652948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/3273927621252652948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2009/10/its-just-me.html' title='It&apos;s just me...'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-4651050259425222868</id><published>2009-09-04T02:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T00:01:19.408-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jealousy...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;is a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;sucky&lt;/span&gt; and damaging emotion to have. It eats into your confidence and it makes you feel like crap even when you know you shouldn't be feeling that that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I have never thought as myself as a jealous girlfriend or anything. In fact I was quite proud that I could have that level of trust with someone to not feel an ounce of jealousy. Unfortunately for me, I realize that these recent years events have turned me into a slight paranoid and insecure person when it comes to a boy-girl relationships.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;So now I have a situation where I'm working in the same office with my boyfriend and recently my boss hired this new girl who was recommended by my boyfriend to join. So naturally I put them to be seated together because she needs to learn since my boyfriend is her friend and also the right person to learn from. Which now landed me in the situation that I see them together all the time. Laughing and talking all the time. Which pretty much make me feel even more insecure. Oh did I mention that they know each other way longer then I know my boyfriend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;In recent event, the new girl was out with other colleagues for lunch and apparently she couldn't fit in with the others so she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;texted&lt;/span&gt; my boyfriend to go accompany. My boyfriend asked if I wanted anything and he himself suggested to get me something. Was busy with some stuff and before I could decided on anything (which actually I wanted something else), he *poof* and disappeared. So I thought alright he'll get me something anyway. He came back and I noticed he did not get anything. What the hell. So what am I suppose to think. The girl called and up he went to her rescue straight away. Never waited for my answer and he just left. Then why the hell ask me in the first bloody place. So pointless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Maybe I should just quit my job here and save my sanity before it's too late. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Note:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; I'm just looking for a place to vent because clearly I'm unhappy and my boyfriend is not doing anything to help me along. Saying that he loves me only and that nothing is up with that girl is so not comforting at all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/span&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/1583067161362194808-4651050259425222868?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/4651050259425222868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=4651050259425222868&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/4651050259425222868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/4651050259425222868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2009/09/jealousy.html' title='Jealousy...'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-6772716734744326088</id><published>2009-05-03T10:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T11:20:20.647-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Hate Losing.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;.... especially when I'm losing because I was playing with a completely new team because my team just 'love' to mix in random people in the cafe for versus fight. Am not totally against asking random people to play since it's nice to change the playing ground once in a while. But I'm freaking pissed when the team distribution goes unfair (or at least to my view it's unfair). We have 4 and they (the random people) have 2, so it would be a 3 on 3. Fair enough. So I suggested that 3 on the left, one team and 3 on my side make one team. It would be 2 (own team)+1(stranger). Then stupid genius that one of my teammate is, said let the game choose randomly the teams. So fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets see how random the game will distribute the people. Nicely the comp throws me in with this other 2 stranger. RAN-FREAKING-DOM. What do you know, my own teammates who are much better in the game then me are all together, leaving me alone with 2 total strangers that I HAVE NEVER PLAY WITH BEFORE and they nicely JUST DON'T CARE even after they totally thrashed us at the freaking start of the game. Now how is that freaking fair? And then the second level start, again the computer do the random distribution again and one of my friends joined my team. Oh cools, someone I know their gameplay. Should be fair now right? DEAD FREAKING WRONG. The guy just switches back to the original team leaving me alone YET A-FREAKING-GAIN with these 2 new people. And that does it. I was fuming like hell. The betrayal. I really felt so bloody betrayed by this. Even more so when it's your teammates that have been playing with you for so freaking long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If this is a hint that you don't want me to play in your team again, then I freaking well get it. Your could just bloody tell me straight. Don't have to go through all this. I'm still pissed. And I'm pretty sure I won't be any less pissed when I wake up tomorrow because one thing I hate most is unfair gameplay. Losing I can handle when I think it's fair. I'll just blame it on my sucky skills in the game. But when I lose because any unfair reasons, I'll be fuming for the next 2 days or so.&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/1583067161362194808-6772716734744326088?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/6772716734744326088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=6772716734744326088&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/6772716734744326088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/6772716734744326088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-hate-losing.html' title='I Hate Losing.....'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-2036888415628409100</id><published>2009-04-14T19:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T22:11:34.038-07:00</updated><title type='text'>'AGE-FUK-U' - An Anal Restaurant in Taipan USJ</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I got to bitch about this. I can't take it. I have never been to such an inflexible restaurant with such twisted policies. A restaurant who is OKAY with you WASTING their food but NOT OKAY with you picking at your friend's food because their policy say so.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Went to this restaurant called &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;AGEFUKU&lt;/span&gt; in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Taipan&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;USJ&lt;/span&gt;. Decided to try this restaurant since we were 'hunting' for Japanese food and it was conveniently near to home. First impression of the restaurant, EMPTY, save for one occupy table at the 'fast food' section downstairs. So we proceed upstairs to the 'fine dining' section. Not surprising, also empty &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;with no customers except for one uncleared table. So we were seated near the window and ordered our food. I decided to take the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Cha&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Soba&lt;/span&gt; and my friend decided to order the 'TEMPURA PROMOTION' which is 'ALL&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt; YOU&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; CAN EAT'. So there was a clause that says 'Any sharing will be charged accordingly'.Fair enough. Policy like this should be placed to avoid people ordering one &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;pax&lt;/span&gt; but shared by two people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So anyway, our order arrived and we proceeded in chomping down on our food. So I finished mine and I started picking at my friend's tempura. He didn't eat squid so I ate his half eaten one and I 'stolen' one piece of eggplant and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;shitake&lt;/span&gt; mushroom. As I was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;bitting&lt;/span&gt; into the eggplant, the waitress suddenly appear at our table to POINT out to us that we will be charged for sharing the tempura because the policy says so. I was shocked for a moment because I would never have thought that a restaurant would follow their policy to such a point. It's not that I didn't order anything to eat and just leeching off my friend's tempura. I ordered something.  My friend tried &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;te&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;lling&lt;/span&gt; the waitress that I ordered something to eat already and that I'm just taking one or two pieces. She still insist on the policy. So fine. My friend just told her that we'll stop ordering now and that's that.  We're not going to 'steal' their food anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q7ystGgyryA/SegOvsKqW0I/AAAAAAAAAB0/8woxkkRKN8A/s1600-h/DSC00099.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q7ystGgyryA/SegOvsKqW0I/AAAAAAAAAB0/8woxkkRKN8A/s320/DSC00099.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325522771838131010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;No wonder the place is empty at dinner time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I'm surprise and still shock actually. Remember I mentioned an uncleared table when we got there? We actually noticed that there was five to six pieces of tempura prawn left UNEATEN. So clearly this restaurant rather you waste their food then see you share your food if you can't finish it. No wonder there were tempura prawn leftover on the table. They weren't allow to share when they can' finish it. So when they say 'All You Can Eat', they literally meant that all ONLY YOU can eat and not anyone at the table with you although you can't finish the food.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So enough said. That would the first and last time I will be patronising that restaurant. I would suggest that if you crave Japanese food and don't want to go to places like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Sakae&lt;/span&gt; Sushi or Sushi &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Zenmai&lt;/span&gt;, then go to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;SUSHITOMO&lt;/span&gt; in SS2&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(near Wong &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Kok&lt;/span&gt; Char Chan &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Teng&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;. Pricing wise much cheaper and taste wise (I personally think so) also better as compare to AGE-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;FUK&lt;/span&gt;-U restaurant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Clearly, AGE will &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;FUK&lt;/span&gt; U when you try to 'steal' their food.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/1583067161362194808-2036888415628409100?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/2036888415628409100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=2036888415628409100&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/2036888415628409100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/2036888415628409100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2009/04/age-fuk-u-anal-restaurant-in-taipan-usj.html' title='&apos;AGE-FUK-U&apos; - An Anal Restaurant in Taipan USJ'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q7ystGgyryA/SegOvsKqW0I/AAAAAAAAAB0/8woxkkRKN8A/s72-c/DSC00099.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-6852143310511197854</id><published>2009-04-12T20:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T20:29:34.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Colleagues Whom I Like To Shoot At</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Right. We all pretty much have colleagues all around and all the time... well, that is if you are working and not bumming around at home. Some colleagues are great and some are so-so. And at MOST times you have shit head colleagues whom you would love to pump a whole load of shotgun in their face. What irks me the most are colleagues who refuses to acknowledge responsibility, 'tai-chi' around his own responsibilities to others and THEN moan and cry that he has more workload and responsibilities then the others in the office. Gawd.... Where's the shotgun? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;*rummaging around*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Not that I'm saying they have no work at all and don't do their share of work. But can they not be a little more responsible? A simple question of when can we do this will somehow give me an answer of why don't you ask so and so to do this first and we take things one step at a time. This in my interpretation means why don't you ask this scapegoat to do this for you first and when you're done, ask me again and I'll see if I'm bothered enough from my 'gigantic' load of work to do this for you. My question was simple. When can we do this? Give me a day and time. I'm not asking to do it now now now. I'm giving him a choice. On his terms since I know how 'royally' busy he is with his mountain high workload. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I hate dragging things. When I decide to do something I rather just do it and finish it instead of dragging it to days and then will eventually weeks/months. I'm a procrastinator. I know about dragging. If this is my own things I don't care if it drags to when hell freezes over. But when it come to work. Lets just do it and be done with it and I'll get off your back. Why can't people just understand that concept?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Now where the heck did I leave my shotgun? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;*more rummaging around*&lt;br /&gt;&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/1583067161362194808-6852143310511197854?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/6852143310511197854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=6852143310511197854&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/6852143310511197854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/6852143310511197854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2009/04/colleagues-whom-i-like-to-shoot-at.html' title='Colleagues Whom I Like To Shoot At'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-7506576363927895160</id><published>2009-03-25T02:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T06:02:19.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Curse of The Wrong Number</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" &gt;Recently I have been receiving calls from young women to aunties and even men asking me if I'm Karen and if I offer beautician services. That said, my name is not Karen nor do I specialise in beautician services. I'm just a simple multi-tasks executive in an extremely small company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyhow, I have been paitiently answering all this calls from unknown numbers (and by unknown I meant numbers not saved in my phonebook) just in case they are someone I know that are calling me. And many times I have been greeted by people saying "Karen ar?". So I'll just sigh and say "Sorry. You got the wrong number.". And most of the times they will be embarrassed and said sorry before cutting the line. And there are times where the caller will insist that I'm Karen and trying to 'convince' me that I'm Karen. Here's how it goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Male Caller &lt;/span&gt;: Hello, Karen ar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;                              : Ah... No, sorry you got the wrong number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Male Caller&lt;/span&gt; : Har? Wrong number ar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me  &lt;/span&gt;                            : Yes. Wrong number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Male Caller&lt;/span&gt; : What? Aren't you Karen?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me &lt;/span&gt;                             : No I'm not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Male Caller&lt;/span&gt; : How come? I call this number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;                              : Yup, I'm pretty sure I'm not Karen tho many have been calling MY number asking for Karen. But no. I'm not her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Male Caller&lt;/span&gt; : Ah...... ok. Sorry. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" &gt;*click*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also there are times where ridiculas aunty who thinks I'm just pulling her leg and don't want her business.&lt;br /&gt;(Mind you this happened on a day I wasn't feeling well and wasn't in the best of mood.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Aunty&lt;/span&gt; : Hello, Karen? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(She was actually speaking in Hokkien)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me &lt;/span&gt;          : No, wrong number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Aunty&lt;/span&gt; : Har? Okay. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" &gt;*click*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" &gt;She calls back a few moments later when I was out to the washroom (I saw the missed call) and calls AGAIN when I came back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Aunty&lt;/span&gt; : Hello, Karen? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(This time in Cantonese)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;          : No. Wrong number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Aunty&lt;/span&gt; : What wrong number? How can? Her number on the card says it's this number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;           : *snap* How I know? The number on the card wrong, what does that got to do with me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" &gt; *click*&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Sigh... I'm pretty sure I'll feel guilty for doing that later but what the heck man. But I said wrong number and she refuses to believe me, what can I do?  I hope no more aunties will be calling and 'accusing' me of withholding information from her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&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/1583067161362194808-7506576363927895160?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/7506576363927895160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=7506576363927895160&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/7506576363927895160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/7506576363927895160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2009/03/curse-of-wrong-number.html' title='Curse of The Wrong Number'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-38708317264091120</id><published>2009-03-16T21:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T21:34:33.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First Impression</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I was thought by my mom that first impression is the most important thing when you meet with someone the very first time. You don't want to screw that up. So I went on with my life with that note of 'wisdom' instilled into my mind. May it be my dressing (well especially my dressing), my attitude or my behaviour, I always try my best to make a good first impression on whoever I'm meeting with. This, sad (happy?) to say that I too hold a greast importance on impression I have on people that I meet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;If you're an a**hole or a b**tard, by reputation or by my own observation, I'll dislike (hate?) you at sight. And pretty much nothing you can do down the line that will make me change my mind. Don't get me wrong, even if I have a good impression of you, that don't mean that I won't dislike you next time when you screw up. Just that the benefits is that I'll be less hostile and be civil and not think violent thoughts that I wish it upon you. Of course am not saying the first offender doesn't get a chance, just that you have to make a bigger impression to me that shows me that you're not the a**hole that I thought you were the first time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;But I have never met anyone who I can dislike even after I gave him a benefit of doubt. He, I would categorise as "Royally F**ked Up His First Impression" when I first got to know him. by being the sore loser and worse, a know-it-all. Then of course followed by being an insensitive idiot and a busybody. Enough said, he screws up every possible chance I reserves. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;But but but, he's a colleague and a friend of a friend, hence I got to play nice. I try to be civil and all that. But I find it really hard. I admit I dislike the guy. And once someone manage to get into my nerve (and I must say, it's kinda hard to do), I find it hard to find a good point in the person and live with it. Natural instinct will tell me to attack and find his weak points. Once found, I go for the kill. So I don't like it when he's around like hanging out  or having lunch with. He's a colleague, I can't chase him away even if I want to. Also, he will just follow even if I don't invite, so I can't escape. Sigh... What am I going to do? I may just resolve in stay in office to eat by myself occasionally or just plain ignoring him which I'm quite good at when he is around.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;P/S: I am trying to like/tolerate the guy even though I don't like it. Sigh.. tis very hard...&lt;br /&gt;&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/1583067161362194808-38708317264091120?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/38708317264091120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=38708317264091120&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/38708317264091120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/38708317264091120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2009/03/first-impression.html' title='First Impression'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-7276907537956213331</id><published>2009-02-28T21:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T21:39:13.792-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Useless Boyfriend - Part 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Okay don't take it the wrong way or idea. I'm not saying that all boyfriends are ATMs (tho some of us wouldn't mid if we do have one =P). So anyway, I believe that as a partner, regardless of it is a girl or a guy, eventually that said person would have be financially supportive to the other. If I can't rely on my boyfriend to be there for me when I need help, be it financially or emotionally, he should be there for me as I would be there for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's the deal. I was truly disgusted by someone I know. His girlfriend call another friend of mind to ask if she could borrow some cash to get a new mobile as her old one was thrashed. So yea  my friend said okay but asked why is she asking him for money when her boyfriend is clearly standing next to her (she was using his phone) and he is not poor either. So off they went in an argument where she was trying to defend her 'noble' boyfriend while my friend was pissed at the guy. Eventually the truth came out when she said that she was reluctant to ask from her own boyfriend because she was afraid that he will reject her request to BORROW some cash to get her mobile. She was afraid that he would reject her or &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;...*gasp*... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;reluctantly borrow her the money because he feels OBLIGATED to borrow the money to her. What kind of boyfriend is this? She is not even demanding that he buy the phone for her. It would be a loan. And he is not even poor or unemployed (I know he isn't because he works in the same place with me and he is not getting an undercut pay either).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was really speechless when I heard that. She rather ask from a friend then turn to her boyfriend for help. And that boyfriend is thick skinned enough to let her ask from her friends and not even bothered to offer to help. So yea I mighty disgusted by the fact that I know someone as immature as this guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;**UPDATE**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I was told that there was new revelation over this matter. It seems that he (the useless bastard aka the man-child aka the boyfriend) did hear what my friend said to the girlfriend on the phone. And after she ended the call with my friend (and presumably she went her own way after that), the useless arse calls to tell her that &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;He. Will. Lend. Her. RM100 only&lt;/span&gt;. My jaw drop all the way to the floor when I heard that. And mind you my friend was willing to lend her RM400 at that moment. So anyway, she asked him why is he borrowing her the money now and he said this. "You can't expect me to  stand there and listen to my girlfriend asking money from someone else". Humph he could have offered earlier and save all this . But still RM100 only? When what she needed and was asking for is RM400. How cheap could you be man?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and so eventually she asked him is he just doing this because he wants to save face and avoid embarrassment . And guess what he said? "So what if I am?". Well he should have thought better then. Before all this commotions. And still RM100 ONLY?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wrap my head around it. If you want to be  some one's SIGNIFICANT OTHER then take up the responsibility and suck it up. Don't give excuses. If you want to remain as an arse and immature then don't go dragging someone else into your life and make their life miserable. Enuf said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;**UPDATE** (16/03/09)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently he is not just an a**hole, he is also still a child at the age of 24 years old because he has no control on his own financials. Strangely enough there are people like this in this world. I have never met one till now. Grow a spine please.&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/1583067161362194808-7276907537956213331?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/7276907537956213331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=7276907537956213331&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/7276907537956213331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/7276907537956213331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2009/02/useless-boyfriend-part-1.html' title='Useless Boyfriend - Part 1'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-6099654518564391057</id><published>2009-02-05T00:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T00:39:57.944-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Anger Management.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;MUST CONTROL...... Kill....killl.....killll...... must control..........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1583067161362194808-6099654518564391057?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/6099654518564391057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=6099654518564391057&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/6099654518564391057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/6099654518564391057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2009/02/anger-management.html' title='Anger Management.'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-1089255359000986224</id><published>2009-01-19T08:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T08:33:34.404-08:00</updated><title type='text'>'Whatever'</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Whatever. How I hate this &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;word&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;. I admit I use this &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;word &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;as well. Guilty as charge. But I don't think I misuse it as some whom I have the unfortunate to converse with. I actually find it quite rude when this &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;word&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; is freely thrown around like a used blow-up doll. I truly do hate this word. I think only because I know someone who use this &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;word&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; whenever he is unhappy and/or uninterested on a particular topic and/or person. He will just brush it off by saying "Whatever" or "Whatever lah" or "Okay. Whatever."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Bloody b*****d. Would it kill you to be freaking civil a bit to even show some respect to the person talking as well as whatever/whoever she is talking about? Stop being a bloody freaking b***h and deal with it. You got issues with anything then spill it out but at least try to be civilise. Damnit. You know what I'm talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, my extreme minuscule readers. I am in a b***hy mood. Nuf said.&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/1583067161362194808-1089255359000986224?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/1089255359000986224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=1089255359000986224&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/1089255359000986224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/1089255359000986224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2009/01/whatever.html' title='&apos;Whatever&apos;'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-7198116045781527355</id><published>2008-12-31T08:23:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T08:38:13.528-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" &gt;How do you return the love someone has for you if you feel that you have no such feelings left in your heart anymore? Your heart have been broken into pieces in the past and can not put all the pieces back together. You don't believe that you can or even deserve this feeling called love and you think you're incapable to feel this feeling at all or anymore. Do you have it in the first place? You used to think love is just plain crap and now you still think that too. You used to think that you were madly deeply in love with that special someone and that love can conquer all but somehow that special someone manage to break all fantasy that you may have. You used to think with love everything will be okay and that your flaws will be accepted as how you accepted their flaws but only to realise that was all your figments of your imaginations. How do you go on with life when the pain is healed but the wound never really closed? How do you make yourself happy again? How do you regain your self-confidence to stand up on your own again? So how do you get on with life with an open heart willing to accept someone else without the fear that the same thing will happen to you again because life just loves screwing with you? How?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know.&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/1583067161362194808-7198116045781527355?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/7198116045781527355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=7198116045781527355&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/7198116045781527355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/7198116045781527355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2008/12/how_31.html' title='How?'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-2251378660559069048</id><published>2008-12-16T03:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T03:49:01.942-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Forgiveness</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It's strange that people think that by saying 'I'm sorry' everything will just be alright. I don't agree with that at all. I guess it's alright when you bump into someone and said I'm sorry. But lets just put this into a scenario where that person (hereby known as 'the offender') has been saying sorry to you for everything and anything that the offender does wrong. Flaws are forgivable at times and I know since people don't change, flaws &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;usually&lt;/span&gt; follows them. But what if it's something that have been going on again and again that the offender have been doing, do you just sweep it under the carpet over and over again when the offender says "I'm sorry"? I'm sure everyone have a certain level of tolerance that he or she can absorb (I won't even use the word 'handle' since by accepting apology is more like absorbing the hurt and mistake that the offender did). Like a sponge there is a level when it can not absorb anymore, what then? You blow over. You get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;pissy&lt;/span&gt; and angry. Then when anger erupts, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;argument&lt;/span&gt; ensue. And then? You either resolve or you don't. If you choose not to give up your stand and not resolve, what then? Argue on? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;....&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/1583067161362194808-2251378660559069048?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/2251378660559069048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=2251378660559069048&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/2251378660559069048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/2251378660559069048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2008/12/forgiveness.html' title='Forgiveness'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-2601221530261197134</id><published>2008-12-15T08:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-15T16:59:46.799-08:00</updated><title type='text'>That Special Feeling</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Okay, I'm going to bare all and be whinny here for this post. Why? Because I feel like it. That's why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know That Special Feeling? The feeling that leaves you all tingling and nice with no cares for the world but the only thing that matters at that moment is you and your significant other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The special feeling that make you feel cherished by another is hard to duplicate by someone else. I know I'm being anal in this sense but I can't help to compare any potential guys around me to my ex. Somehow no one compares to him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;The way he always give me his first bite whenever we're out together regardless if I have food of my own or not. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;The way he never fails to make me feel really loved, cherished and just plain special whenever we're together. None have compared so far. All they even make me feel is the longing feeling for my ex. Maybe I' just bias against them. And maybe I'm just clouded. (And you know what, I think so too but I don't know how to overcome this)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yea yea I know this is silly and I shouldn't be even be thinking about it. It's just that he was prefect then and I always thought we were prefect together. That we will be together always and nothing can tear us apart. Boy, I was dead wrong about that. The break up brought many things to my attention. Yes, I'm temperamental at times. Yes, I can be bossy and bitchy at times. But I always thought we could be honest with each other that anything wrong that he is unhappy about, he would just tell me. I know I would be upset but eventually I will see his point seeing that it is the truth. But at last he took the easy way I guess by breaking up with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that left me in pieces. Pieces that I don't think I can ever whole again. I still cry when I'm alone for no reason at all. The tears just comes and goes although I can barely remember our memories together (I suspect is my brain suppressor is kicking in and blocking all the memories). I get upset with life and everything. I am weak. No one that knows me will believe that but I am. I was weak before but now I'm just useless. I go about life now trying to figure what to do with it because I am never myself again after that. Yes, I admit. I'm not over him yet. He still lives in my heart even after this long. I don't know how to get rid of him. It haunts me everywhere I go.&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/1583067161362194808-2601221530261197134?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/2601221530261197134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=2601221530261197134&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/2601221530261197134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/2601221530261197134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2008/12/that-special-feeling.html' title='That Special Feeling'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-2505093701391463189</id><published>2008-11-24T05:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T08:50:37.777-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Flirting</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Flirting. It's a common thing. You or someone you know have experienced flirting with someone at one point or another, I am sure. Myself included. So anyway, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/span&gt; the term 'flirting' and this is what I got that explained the nature of 'flirting'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Flirting is often used as a means of expressing interest and gauging the other person's interest in courtship, which can continue into long-term relationships. Alternatively, it may simply be a prelude to casual sex with no continuing relationship. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;In other situations, it may be done simply for immediate entertainment, with no intention of developing any further relationship. This type of flirting sometimes faces disapproval from others, either because it can be misinterpreted as more serious, or it may be viewed as "cheating" if the person is already in a romantic relationship with someone else."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To me, flirting is just a way a girl/boy communicate with the opposite sex. Be it as interest in courtship or just for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;'immediate entertainment'&lt;/span&gt;. I personally do it too. BUT I try to make sure that my flirting with the opposite sex does not get 'recorded' or caught by anyone whom I might be interested in at that time. I would not flirt in place such as open forums and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; Walls. That just leaves the trail of bread crumbs all over the place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean how would it look when someone you're courting or interested in, catches you flirting with someone else? I'm pretty sure that would just boggle his/her mind a little. You said you like someone else, right? Why are you even flirting with someone else? Shouldn't you be more interested in flirting with THE ONE that you trying to court? I personally thinks that such careless flirting will just put anyone off even more than any bad habits can. I accept that some people are flirtatious by nature but still limitations should be exercise when doing it, right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I think however flirtatious one person could be, surely there are occasion when meaningless flirting are mistaken for the real deal. And being a girl myself, I feel that girls are more prone to mistaking such harmless flirting to be a real courting or may even encourage development of any sort of romantic feelings towards that guy. No offence girls. Just saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Compare &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Of course, I miss you"&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Yes, I do miss you"&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Hey, haven't seen you for awhile. I miss you."&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"I'm missing you here. You're out of Malaysia for so long."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I feel that between these four, 2 gives me the feeling that the person is missing a friend and the other 2 is more intimate in the sense that that he/she misses the other person in a more romantic way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have this friend, a guy who is a self proclaim a flirt by nature and has openly flirted with another girl (hereof 'the other girl') when he said he is interested in someone else (hereof 'the one'). He says to me that when he said that he misses the other girl on the Wall, it was just for play and fun. But he really does misses the one in HIS HEART and that such things are not needed to be said. Which make me wonder why should the fun and play misses be said OUT LOUD for the world and not to mention, friends to see and the one that he actually misses is kept in the dark corners of his heart. Then how would the one know about it? Is she expected to know what the hell this guy is thinking IN HIS HEART?  And not only that, what would she think if she would to see that message on the Wall to the other girl posted by this guy? I bet she be like, "Wow there, he must be just playing me around for a fool all this time when he already has someone else.". And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;whooshh&lt;/span&gt;... that might be opportunity flying out of the window for this guy. Bye bye...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yea, I still think flirting can be fun at times despite of what I said above but I also think that there is a fine fine line between fun and play and the real deal. Mistakes and miscommunication can happen. Feelings may develop even when no intention of naturing the feelings by the flirting party. And this will just create more problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, where flirting is concern, don't get 'caught' red-handed. Might just give someone a wrong idea.&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/1583067161362194808-2505093701391463189?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/2505093701391463189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=2505093701391463189&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/2505093701391463189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/2505093701391463189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2008/11/flirting.html' title='Flirting'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1583067161362194808.post-3765494867959398365</id><published>2008-11-18T01:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T09:20:05.283-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Handsfree.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Righ&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;t. &lt;/span&gt;Handsfree&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;. I&lt;/span&gt; think this word, many of you are familiar with it. It just simply means that we don't have to use our hands to control or handle the device/equipment. Most comm&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;only used to refer to a mobile phone headset or a function. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Phone company will try to promote their phone by saying that the phone have build-in handsfree with noise cancelling or voice recognition or many other extravagant functions of sorts, that will makes our lives easier, much more convenient and not forgetting fun too...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... So that must be where the fun part comes from when I see people holding their phones with one hand to their mouth (presumably that the handsfree function i.e. loudspeakers are turned on) and the other hand on the wheel, trying to 'expertly' maneuver their car in traffic (and sometimes weaving in and out of traffic). That must be some major skills that I have failed to acquire in driving school. Either that or my driving instructor have short changed me when he was teaching me to drive. I think I might need some refresher course on the 'in' way of driving nowadays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and I have this Aunt who likes (or loves, I don't know) to talk on her mobile with the loudspeaker. She will make or answer a call and activate the loudspeaker. She will then proceed to shout at (and back at) her phone so that the other person on the other end will hear her loud and clear. My Mom will find this very unnerving because she feels that someone on the other side might be overhearing on the conversation. I have once commented on this because she was shouting away in the house like we, the people around would like to listen to her whole conversation. And she actually gave me an extremely blank look and said "Really???" when I said to her that generally people around don't want to know what was her conversation with the other person was. Either she was being really sarcastic or just plain blur... Knowing my Aunt (or so I hope I know her well enough) that she was just being blur. So till today she is still doing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I personally think the handsfree/loudspeaker functions have been spoiling some of us. If drivers said they can't hear the other person on the other end through the loudspeaker, I'll say call them back later or use a proper headset. A bluetooth headset would be prefect. Without the wiring hassle. Holding the phone with one hand and the other on the wheel still don't count as using 'handsfree' to talk on the phone while driving. And as for people like my Aunt, I have no more comments. I don't think I'll be able to understand her logic either way if she try to explains it to me.&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/1583067161362194808-3765494867959398365?l=ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/feeds/3765494867959398365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1583067161362194808&amp;postID=3765494867959398365&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/3765494867959398365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1583067161362194808/posts/default/3765494867959398365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofanantisocial.blogspot.com/2008/11/handsfree.html' title='Handsfree.'/><author><name>Kiya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06528546856969249179</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
