<?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-824563845903394764</id><updated>2012-01-29T02:21:06.881+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rosa Yo!</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>315</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-689142992368291076</id><published>2012-01-29T02:21:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-29T02:21:06.917+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes I'm afraid</title><content type='html'>It's been such a crazy ride ever since this year started. First month is almost over now, yet it feels like forever already. I've gone through so much and i thought this year wouldn't turn out good given its bad start. I know I fear more this year, but at least I know I am getting ready to overcome them somehow. It feels like I can face them now and make a change and be a better person. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I lost some, won some. But now I realize to me it's never enough since I am such a greedy person. However now that I know I have greed, I want more of what life gives me, I learn to hold what I have in hand so much more dearly. The fear of losing everything sends shiver down my spines every time without fail. However I told myself why sit there and fear, but not make a change if you want to? And it's not like I can't change, I choose to be wiser now. All those fears, all those walls surrounding tell me if they are not broken, my job isn't done. I know it's time to grow up, it's time to give up something for another greater thing. It's also time to stand back, and look at what I have and be thankful for it. The fears make me understand how much everything means to me, that's why the thought of it kills..let alone if it happens. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I'm afraid, I give myself time to calm down and be patient. I might lose myself half way, but when I come back, when it finds its way back to me.. I know I have another chance to make it right all over. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life will be bad. Life will go down when it has to, but I know the fear of losing you should never break me. Because if it does, it means I'm not doing it right. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Xoxo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-689142992368291076?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/689142992368291076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=689142992368291076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/689142992368291076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/689142992368291076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2012/01/sometimes-i-afraid.html' title='Sometimes I&amp;#39;m afraid'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-4885154379867833937</id><published>2011-12-28T00:28:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-28T00:47:26.621+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Last week of 2011!</title><content type='html'>Six months ago I was here, telling myself I'd come back here after another six to end the year in a good note. However, today I decided to write but yet with quite a heavy heart. Obviously I'm not too thrilled or happy at this current moment. There are plenty of things on my mind about plenty of things in my life. I cannot believe another year is nearing to its end. Another journey is closing up to finishing life, and opening up to a new chapter. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Something tells me next year will be harder than this year, and something tells me I might not be a same person anymore. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just now when I was on the phone with Mommy for a good 20 minutes, my heart sank when she mentioned about her talk with Rose. It broke my heart from deep down inside, although my facade was all anger and irritation. When mom said the things that Rose spoke to mom about, it hit me and I started wondering: "What if I become one of those girls whose family members are just drifting apart? And what if my relationship with Rose will never be the same, and we will end up like how movies show whereas we don't talk anymore?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's so sad. I've packed my bag for my Jakarta trip tomorrow with excitement to attend a wedding. I was gonna go to another country to witness a new beginning of someone's lives becoming as one, and I was gonna celebrate a new year with all my friends with so much anticipation. Yet right now, tonight, the last night in Singapore of 2011, something about today and tonight makes me feel so deep in my thought. I'm wondering if this is the hormones acting, but then whether it's the hormones or not, I really wish tomorrow when I'm on the jet, I can leave these scars back in Singapore and when I return next year, this place will welcome me with a fresh start. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I sincerely hope my life will not hit its wall where there aren't no directions or way out. I want to make the best out of this and I really don't want to give it up. I might not be good as everything, but I know what I'm best at when I see it and I'm realizing that I've not found it yet. Maybe my new year resolution should be a search towards finding my best passion at heart. It's not that I'm not passionate about life or about anything I do, but I think it's time for me to know what I really want for myself, for my life, and for the people all around me. I've been lost for the past years, and this year didn't prove any much better that I've found my way. I'm pretty much still lost and unsure of what I want. Hence, it's time for me to start asking myself if I'm ready to face the real challenge in life to find whatever I'm searching for. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wish me luck and I'll be back soon! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happy New Year to all in advance, in case I miss the big day. Spread love all around. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;xoxo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-4885154379867833937?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/4885154379867833937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=4885154379867833937' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4885154379867833937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4885154379867833937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2011/12/last-week-of-2011.html' title='Last week of 2011!'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-2840115989906811073</id><published>2011-06-27T15:46:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-27T15:51:56.854+08:00</updated><title type='text'>For feed.</title><content type='html'>6 months later, I've left my blog like as though I don't exist anymore. I feel bad for what used to be classic, something that used to be my only source of expression. Now I'm hooked to the dark side, the on-the-go ones, I've been updating my twitter like my blog. Maybe what's happening now is I'm tired of giving too much thoughts, I'm becoming an avoider to my feelings. I indulge to the ones that break me, without fail I do that to myself. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6 months later, from the last time I wrote something, I feel pretty much myself: pathetic and sadistically weird. Maybe there's a slight different, I feel wiser and my front is getting better day by day. People see less of the real me, except for the ones who see through me which I'm pretty sure not many do. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm already half way to this year, I wonder what's holding of me. Can't wait for the adventure to go hectic as it always seems. 6 months later, 6 months more.. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;xoxo &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-2840115989906811073?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/2840115989906811073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=2840115989906811073' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/2840115989906811073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/2840115989906811073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2011/06/for-feed.html' title='For feed.'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-6445235269592580808</id><published>2011-01-05T20:14:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-05T20:22:05.991+08:00</updated><title type='text'>2011 and love</title><content type='html'>Dear Claire,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What and If, are two words as non-threatening as words can be. But put them together side-by-side and they have the power to haunt you for the rest of your life. What if? What if? What if?&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how your story ended but if what you felt then was true love, then it's never too late. If it was true then, why wouldn't it be true now? You need only the courage to follow your heart.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what a love like Juliet's feels like - love to leave loved ones for, love to cross oceans for but I'd like to believe if I ever were to feel it, that I will have the courage to seize it. And Claire, if you didn't, I hope one day that you will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All my love,&lt;br /&gt;Juliet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Letters to Juliet.&lt;br /&gt;Something for feed, for a romantic soul, a helpless soul. But fret not, first few days of new year happen like this. It's a new beginning, yet I'm still getting off last year's ride. It's only 5 days, we have 360 days more to go guys. Heads up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-6445235269592580808?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/6445235269592580808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=6445235269592580808' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6445235269592580808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6445235269592580808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2011/01/2011-and-love.html' title='2011 and love'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-2879760934866549154</id><published>2010-12-17T05:46:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-17T06:02:21.819+08:00</updated><title type='text'>How changes make you..</title><content type='html'>It strikes me that 2010 is coming to an end and how much things have been changed, and still changing. From day 1 of the year, to the day my Mom re-married to Norm, to me turning 18 and becoming someone that I am shocked at. I'm amused at all these changes. From every aspects of life and my own doings, things are just inevitable and unpredictable in life. To explain this experience, I can't barely describe in words. I just need to jot down how they have made me today, right now at this hour, 5:50am in the morning, blogging about what's bringing me next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth is, I don't really know. I have come to realise that I only miss being loved when it's at night, when I'm all alone by myself in this sad room, listening to different genres of music on different nights (depending on my mood). Today is my low night, and then I think of Syahmi. Or no, even on my good nights, before I sleep, he'd be the one thing I miss. However when the sun goes up, he's locked at this corner on my mind, and all I want is to live, to see the world. Then yes, now I am becoming selfish. I am becoming different because of these changes, the phases in life.. Again you see, I'm not the only who's drifting with the flow, he too has gone with life, and everyone around me does to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it's okay not to be okay so maybe only all I can say is, the more I try, the less it's working for me. So in the end of the day, people give you different "three words" like: I Love You, I Miss You, What Is Wrong?, or I Am Sorry, or even Please Forgive Me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now.. I give life my 3 words: I Don't Know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-2879760934866549154?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/2879760934866549154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=2879760934866549154' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/2879760934866549154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/2879760934866549154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/12/how-changes-make-you.html' title='How changes make you..'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-1647679260751554756</id><published>2010-11-23T02:57:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-11-23T03:06:25.009+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Broken Arrow</title><content type='html'>I've been hooked to listening to Pixie Lott's new hit, it stays in my head like an addiction. How weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things in my life have been very crazy. Everyone's moving on with their life, everyone's still pacing up, but I cannot keep up with it. I need some sort of certainty that I'll be okay, and that things will work out fine in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might be moving to Australia next year, for real this time. Although no visa in hand, I cannot claim a confirmation, but yes, it's so serious that I feel that it's so near, and I cannot fight it. I am afraid of so many things. I'm afraid of starting all over again, though yes it might be a good thing sometimes. However, it breaks my heart so bad when I think of leaving Singapore, somewhere I spent most of my life growing up and learning about life. And then it comes the people I've been with, I stick with them, and in my heart, I'm stuck. I hate leaving, especially leaving something I hold dearly in my heart. And what about him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes when I think about how I stress myself out with all these, I ask myself: "Am I too young to feel this old?" I just turned 18, yet, I'm feeling like I'm at a crossroad where no ends meet, and who am I to say I've learnt enough about life? Seriously, maybe at times I think I do, but right now, I have no idea what is all this. I have no idea why I'm questioning about life, about love, about what I want in life. Oh fuck me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What do you when you found the right one, at the wrong time?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-1647679260751554756?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/1647679260751554756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=1647679260751554756' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/1647679260751554756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/1647679260751554756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/11/broken-arrow.html' title='Broken Arrow'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-7376784511048741301</id><published>2010-10-04T17:51:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-06T11:14:19.816+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Is this how it feels like?</title><content type='html'>After 2 years and 3 months, I finally question myself seriously, of the way I feel, whether if this is the end, for good. I know there are times I asked what I was doing here for, where this was going to. However not this time, this time it cuts me like a knife, it hits me like a tight slap on my face, and he's not around, proving me wrong like he used to. At this point, I'm pretty sure of what reasons I have to walk away from this. I am very sure I can do it, if I have the strength to. Sadly, I really don't. Sadly I want to save the troubles for us both, to put an end to my suffering, and maybe his too. I want to do it, if I really have the strength, and the will. But God, really I have nothing left to hold on. I can't sit still, I can't think straight, I can't do nothing because it's hurting me so badly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what kind of person I am. I am always afraid of making my decision, because I am the type who thinks too much, the type who's afraid that this one decision will backstab me right on. And also, I'm the type who demands for too much, the type who's envy of what other girls have when their boyfriends do sweet things. I'm worse than what I am, and now I realise this is the one reason that affect this journey I am in. Yes, this is me. This is me, wanting that attention from you. This is me wanting everybody in this world to know that you love me, wanting to be 'your girlfriend'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to think it this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: Who is he?&lt;br /&gt;B: He's Rosa's boyfriend, the lad whom she always talks about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and ..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C: Who is she?&lt;br /&gt;D: Errr..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what this is about, it could be too harsh for me to take it, but it's the reality after all. Nobody knows who you are in my life. But they know what I am to you, even they don't know your existence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last time, when things were right, when things were still butterflies in my stomach, you'd never fail to come back, showing me the right way, and that we will be okay. Now, you know things are wrong, but where are you now, even?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I am very tired of making myself feeling better. I am very tired of appearing that I am okay, and tired of waiting for you to come back around, but I know I have no choice but to wait till you question this too. I cannot take this anymore.. I am half ready now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Half ready to let go.. to save me from myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-7376784511048741301?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/7376784511048741301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=7376784511048741301' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7376784511048741301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7376784511048741301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/10/is-this-how-it-feels-like.html' title='Is this how it feels like?'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-5410547526182677054</id><published>2010-09-12T00:57:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-12T01:00:31.206+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to adulthood</title><content type='html'>I'm 18, finally. And guess what fucking happened on my fucking birthday?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. My mom found out about my piercing.&lt;br /&gt;2. We had a 'talk' which made me so depress right now that i keep wanting to cry when i think about it.&lt;br /&gt;3. My own boyfriend refused to show me any love that i know i deserve&lt;br /&gt;4. I drank a bottle of wine and couples of beer to feel better about myself&lt;br /&gt;5. I really really don't think I deserved this..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...on my fucking 18th birthday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-5410547526182677054?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/5410547526182677054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=5410547526182677054' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5410547526182677054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5410547526182677054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/09/welcome-to-adulthood.html' title='Welcome to adulthood'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-7420503747236014580</id><published>2010-09-02T22:08:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-02T22:17:09.878+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>After almost 3 years of getting to know him, falling for him and being with him, I realised so many things have changed. I got lost in my own emotions when I found myself reading back the mails, the entries and the things he used to send for me, and I read back the things that we did, what we've gone through and all that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do admit whenever I do that - yeah, I did it couples of times, when I'm just upset, I'd open up the past and indulge myself) - I allow myself to build this wall between the Old and the New. And I would lock myself in the memories of the Old and I start comparing it to the New, the current one. I feel like shit every single time I read up my old stuff. It's a sad bad habbit, but I cannot help it too. Moreover, I just cannot accept the facts that we aren't the same anymore. No more old yearnings and longings - according to the Old. However, I think now it's more of getting rid of each other - according to the New. Screw my life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Argh fuck whatever. I'm just lost whenever I think about it. Only I wish, one in awhile, the Old would come back, cos it felt so much better when we first started out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sad but true.......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-7420503747236014580?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/7420503747236014580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=7420503747236014580' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7420503747236014580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7420503747236014580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/09/after-almost-3-years-of-getting-to-know.html' title=''/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-8215047964190969052</id><published>2010-08-26T17:25:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-27T01:44:49.970+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What was I?</title><content type='html'>First, this is gonna be a really random post because I don't know why I feel like writing for a lil bit so yeah.. I'm sort of reminiscing of my past right now I guess. I've thinking of how fast time fly.. I'm not gonna sit here and dread for my 18th birthday (Okay actually I do, a bit - okay maybe a bit more than that - hehs), but I'm speaking of what I've become today, so the birthday thing is not the point at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...... First being a Fajarian, and then moving on to wanting to be in a Perth college, and then back to Vietnam for a year for Grade 11 in American Pacific University, and lastly, back to Singapore, Mass Communications student of MDIS. All of that might not sound or seem crazy to you, but hell no, to me it was a ride, it was really a series of dramas, shits and ups and all that you can imagine of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And guess what? Now I'm an Advanced Diploma student - just being 17th! And then helping out Monica in interior design area. Seriously, right now, I'm feeling like a heroine to myself. Although there are times I felt like shit, useless and worthless, but again, I am still surviving. The world outside my door still goes on even at my low times, and I've come to learn that yes, even if the next minute I'm going to break down and cry, time will never stop for me to get up. Time goes on because it is the reason why I am getting up again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been torn. Others, and including myself - patched up the pieces, and healed the wounds. Yet, I cannot escape being torn again, over and over again. Everybody knows that. There's no guarantee that you won't get hurt again after being healed. That explains my late depression regarding my personal problems: gaining weight, and other other other stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, just for the fun of it, I tried to vomit after meals. Yes, when I said it was just for the fun of it, but I was screwed for bulimia. I was desperate to lose weight, and I was depressed comparing to my old self to my current one. I finally realise that yes, I'm a fucking media victim and I am trapped in my 'ideal' world and I cannot come out of it. I know it, and I will not deny what I want for my life. It sounds real plastic, but well, sadly I am just whining over the matter of my fantasy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, do not just judge me from it. Because of all these self-realisation, I really really know how to take care of myself in a better way now (except for the spending part - especially on shoes and accessories and generally SHOPPING! - which again is another problem that I think I'm stuck with!). But let's not go there today, because it is an endless topic to me, because I will just twist my words around denying that I don't shop a lot but I know I do - yeah that sorta thing - it is just like how I used to deny that I was an alcoholic. Hur hur. But now I don't drink as much as last time, not everyday anymore! Hmph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;And yes, from that whole gaining weight thing, which affect my whole lifestyle and my behaviour, my attitude towards things, especially my decision-making. It was a hard time. Now, I am taking action of what I promised myself over time which I never once carried out. I'm not feeling good, but at least I'm feeling better. Well I don't know, maybe I'm just not okay. I think I have too much inside. And I'm using this whole stupid gaining weight and wanting to lose weight thing to vent out. Ouh whatever, I don't even know what is wrong with me. Don't worry, maybe I will figure it out soon, and I'll be better some other day I guess.. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I guess today is just one of those bad days. Who I was doesn't affect who I am today, but yes, I'm definitely scarred from my past. It still hits me, in every fucking aspect. Yes, screw me, sue me, whatever it is.. I will just wait for the day that I will wake up and feel like a million bucks! Hopefully tomorrow! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Bye! xx&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-8215047964190969052?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/8215047964190969052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=8215047964190969052' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/8215047964190969052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/8215047964190969052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/08/what-was-i.html' title='What was I?'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-5232184060754960295</id><published>2010-08-10T00:35:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-08-10T00:40:37.290+08:00</updated><title type='text'>becoming...</title><content type='html'>I am not the same more. I just realised that in the end of the day, I'm just another lonely girl in this strange new place which isn't my home. I thought it was, but somehow I know I don't fit in all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally become someone I'm not, I finally notice that.. I hate everything about me right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And sadly, the worst part is that i hurt myself to feel happier from inside out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate my life so bad that this depression is killing me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-5232184060754960295?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/5232184060754960295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=5232184060754960295' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5232184060754960295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5232184060754960295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/08/becoming.html' title='becoming...'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-1143841941907855711</id><published>2010-07-28T01:41:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T01:43:47.845+08:00</updated><title type='text'>fucked-up</title><content type='html'>for the first time in quite a long time, i allow someone's comment to bring me down from my self-esteem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am disgusted at myself right now just because of the impact someone made about the way i look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just right at that moment i feel fucked-up, i realised that yes, i definitely dont love myself now.. and i am not the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fuck my life. i need to grow out of this and do something about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i will stay focus! oh fuck...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-1143841941907855711?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/1143841941907855711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=1143841941907855711' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/1143841941907855711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/1143841941907855711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/07/fucked-up.html' title='fucked-up'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-765238701628240632</id><published>2010-06-24T22:39:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-24T22:39:05.967+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Depression</title><content type='html'>Well normally I don't blog about how depressed I am. Ok sometimes I do. But it's definitely not this kind of depression that I'm feeling right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok something is wrong with me for sure. But FYI I'm not having period so there's no reason for me to have mood swings or whatsover. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Urgh nvm. Fuck me. Bye&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-765238701628240632?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/765238701628240632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=765238701628240632' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/765238701628240632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/765238701628240632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/06/depression.html' title='Depression'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-4074454714567852976</id><published>2010-06-12T12:21:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-12T12:30:57.963+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Who's the soldier?</title><content type='html'>In this battlefield, there are two: One who leaves you hanging, and one who always has been there. Both seem right to you, both are the ones you want to see fighting for what you're worth. As you know you deserve a chance to be happy and to be appreciated, to be worth of the fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But in the end of the day, you realise that you are the one who's bled too much for both of them. You play on the safe side 'cause you're running out of time, and you know how the battle goes. You slowly know that all end up with scars, but sadly, you already are...long before it all started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now as you think about every single bit, you know that you heart isn't wholly settled but you allow yourself to grow out of it. You believe in yourself, you will be okay no matter what. Because sooner or later, you will be the commander to withdraw the fight. You're just indulging yourself, but you know.. you're the soldier now, not them two.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-4074454714567852976?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/4074454714567852976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=4074454714567852976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4074454714567852976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4074454714567852976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/06/whos-soldier.html' title='Who&apos;s the soldier?'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-6934054399591763320</id><published>2010-06-10T10:21:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-10T10:24:38.092+08:00</updated><title type='text'>ok FML</title><content type='html'>Yesterday at a bus stop, on the way home, another auntie, came talking to me. I was listening to my mp3! So i thought she wanted space to sit, so I moved over, but i could tell she was speaking to me.. As usual and as polite as I can be, i took off one side of my earpiece, and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Sorry?&lt;br /&gt;Auntie2: Sorry ah what time is it now?&lt;br /&gt;Me: (-____-)&lt;br /&gt;Me: Uh.. ouh it's 11:50&lt;br /&gt;Auntie2: Thank you ah..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow.. I have Old Folks Magnet balls. Muahaha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-6934054399591763320?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/6934054399591763320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=6934054399591763320' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6934054399591763320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6934054399591763320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/06/ok-fml.html' title='ok FML'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-8238612686542741793</id><published>2010-06-09T10:46:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-06-09T11:01:05.353+08:00</updated><title type='text'>So I do attract people..</title><content type='html'>Yesterday in the lift, there was this apek who pressed floor 12th while I was going up to my 16th floor. So we had a very interesting conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apek: Hui jia ah? (translate: Going home?)&lt;br /&gt;Me: Huh? (I acted blur)&lt;br /&gt;Apek: You going home?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Uh yeah&lt;br /&gt;Apek: Hello, my name is Kelvin *took out his hands for handshake*&lt;br /&gt;Me: *feeling wtf but shook his hand anw*&lt;br /&gt;Apek: Wah your hands so cold..&lt;br /&gt;Me: *this -___- face* Yeah weather cold la..&lt;br /&gt;Apek: Work? Come back from work?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yeah&lt;br /&gt;Apek: How much your pay?&lt;br /&gt;Apek: *continue* 2K?&lt;br /&gt;Me: *huh face* Oh no la..&lt;br /&gt;Apek: 1K?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Nah.. (Dont want to entertain already)&lt;br /&gt;Apek: So low ah? So little?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yeah.. somewhere there only&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soooo finally, the door opened up and it was time for him to leave.. but he was a very persistant dude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apek: Ok remember me ah, my name Kelvin. What's your name?&lt;br /&gt;Me: (While the door was closing up on him) Rosa..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got home and I laughed to myself, but I was fucking scared, who knows he followed me to the doorsteps or what. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again this morning, while at the bus stop waiting for my bus, I was listening to my iTouch and feeling like shit 'cause I missed my bus by just barely 5 seconds. Knn. But nvm.. There was this auntie, suddenly turned to me and talked to me. So obviously she was talking to me, and I, myself, being nice, took off my earpiece and looked at her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Huh? Sorry?&lt;br /&gt;Auntie: Wah this bus very long. This no 5 bus took so long.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh okay.. (feeling: Wtf again man.. it's morning, give me a break man!)&lt;br /&gt;Auntie: More than 15 minutes already you know, so long.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh okay.. *put on earpiece*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If today I ever encounter any of old folks's situation like these, then FML! Toa Payoh is getting weirder each day dude.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-8238612686542741793?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/8238612686542741793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=8238612686542741793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/8238612686542741793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/8238612686542741793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/06/so-i-do-attract-people.html' title='So I do attract people..'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-5023893859645563364</id><published>2010-05-26T12:49:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T13:03:00.398+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Do I know me?</title><content type='html'>All these whiles, I thought I've always known me best, better than anyone who sees through me. But I think just at this period in my life, I realised that I do not know me at all - maybe just a bit, but I am still learning myself. Like I've mentioned, I have been affected very greatly by all the changes in my life. I am going to walk into being 18th with a mind that is growing, with a mindset that I will be an adult, but obviously I am dwelling over a lot of things that happen around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that Mom's marriage is over, she's enjoying her honeymoon time with my new Dad. And I will be moving to Australia sometime soon next year or the after. Because of that, I had an arguement with my mom regarding my studies and my stay in Singapore. Plus, I am loving my so-called 'job' in helping Monica. Anddd... all of that add up together, and yes, not forgetting Syahmi and my life as a teenager, yes, all of that add up and wear me out with what life brings me. I am exhausted in the mind, and physically too. I love challenges, yes I do. But why am I feeling so caged? I am feeling trapped. I am tired just by thinking what tomorrow will bring, and along the way, I think I've lost my way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, losing myself is not a bad thing because Alcan said "sometimes you gotta lose yourself before finding yourself". I can't disagree much from it, but truthfully the process is tiring me down. I want to escape all these problems. I really do. I need a break from myself, and let go of my expectations. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, I just finished reading a new book I bought the other day, The Wedding Diaries by Linda Francis Lee and I fell in love with the book. What it woke me up was something in the book which makes a lot of sense. It noted something as 'You gotta realise yourself and find yourself before knowing the potential of who you can become'. I forgot the exact words, but either way, it's been stuck in my head because I am so lost at this moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But don't worry, I won't go back to the drinking track. Even if I drink tonight, I know my limits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So may God bless me then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-5023893859645563364?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/5023893859645563364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=5023893859645563364' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5023893859645563364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5023893859645563364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/05/do-i-know-me.html' title='Do I know me?'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-3204201349435770789</id><published>2010-05-12T20:23:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-12T20:32:42.388+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stepping into a new journey..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/S-qd1uCJ0rI/AAAAAAAADDc/FvplvEco-mI/s1600/mom%26norm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470358243610579634" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/S-qd1uCJ0rI/AAAAAAAADDc/FvplvEco-mI/s320/mom%26norm.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's Mama's wedding photo with Norm, my soon-to-be new dad. Looking at it gives me this much of weird feeling, good but not so good at the same time. Ha. First of all, I'm glad that she's happy with a new company in her life and I'm more than happy to welcome him into our lives. I doubted this before, but I realized that it is her life this time, and it's all up to her to take risks and be happy about it. I am her daughter, and I am so excited for the wedding this coming sunday!!! :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay, here's why it's a not-so-good feeling when I look at them: It's the wedding vibe that makes me wonder, if it was my turn, how happy it would be? Well.. I'm a girl after all, I do dream about having a wedding with Mr Prince Charming too. I took Wedding Planning classes for a reason too. I want to be in those kind of portraits with my love too, but all these changes are questioning me about my future, about my career, my adulthood, and then my family - given who I see in the wedding portrait and whether if he's gonna be the right one for me in the end of the day. See, I have fears now. Told you I wasn't gonna take all this well. However, I am taking things better as each day goes by, so cheers to that! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Norm's breakfast is cereal and milk, and given our Vietnamese culture, our breakfast is like soup, noodles or rice and those kind of stuff. Well, I hope my maid is gonna adapt to all that soon huh. For me? Sorry, even since I get back here, I wake up at 12 in the afternoon to 1 and lunch, and I would go for a ride, find things to do, have a walk. However, things are lil more crazy now.. I have to go through tailoring, dress-fitting, and Rose and myself are planning to go nails and make-up before the wedding too. Ha! Look who's in the vibe more than my mom herself? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well.. till then, gotta go have dinner! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;xoxo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-3204201349435770789?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/3204201349435770789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=3204201349435770789' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/3204201349435770789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/3204201349435770789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/05/stepping-into-new-journey.html' title='Stepping into a new journey..'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/S-qd1uCJ0rI/AAAAAAAADDc/FvplvEco-mI/s72-c/mom%26norm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-966282438301684010</id><published>2010-05-10T01:26:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T13:53:02.381+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wake up, lil girl...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/S-efNOCclJI/AAAAAAAADDU/He9j1O42UOA/s1600/IMG_0115%5B1%5D.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 214px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469515321920230546" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/S-efNOCclJI/AAAAAAAADDU/He9j1O42UOA/s320/IMG_0115%5B1%5D.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;According to Alcan, I've been asleep and now I am waking up.. I am still walking around idly, but I will be alright when I open my mind, my eyes and see the world with a better sight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally can say that I am growing up, I finally say that I am trying my best to adapt to all the changes around me. Funnily, I can't seem to handle them too well, that I will have to admit. I really am going through a hard internal conflicts with my emotions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to settle a lot of things to get over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to Monica, and repeated by Rovye and Alcan, STOP EXPECTING!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to me, Rosa, I am someone who allows myself to sink in expectations and disappointments. Yes, that is me. And I cannot blame anyone else but myself if I am crying tonight, because the reasons of the tears are mine, I cause them while I can choose not to them invade my heart, mind and soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am waking up. I can say that for sure, and because of all these changes in my life: new people, new environment, new responsibilities- they make me realise that for all these whiles, I thought at least the world revolves around me.. once in awhile, but this time round: NO, the world revolves no man and no one. Those people and the changes reminded me that this stage of my life, I really gotta stop it all and live my life for myself. If things happen my way, it's a bonus, if things don't, I have my own power to turn the wheel around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, I feel rejected from my expectations because things don't go my way like how they used to be. I feel like shit and I don't deny it. But I need to thank to all these changes, which lead to my wake-up call that maybe I will get myself out from this hole that's pulling me in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a dreamer. I have dreams. But the sad part is, dreams come when you make 'em happen. But the sadder part is, to make 'em happen, you gotta make the right decisions. And now? I am not doing the right thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-966282438301684010?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/966282438301684010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=966282438301684010' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/966282438301684010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/966282438301684010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/05/wake-up-lil-girl.html' title='Wake up, lil girl...'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/S-efNOCclJI/AAAAAAAADDU/He9j1O42UOA/s72-c/IMG_0115%5B1%5D.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-1008654984430172184</id><published>2010-05-01T05:12:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-05-01T05:16:33.184+08:00</updated><title type='text'>One week is hard enough..</title><content type='html'>I thought having things to do every morning when you wake up, keeping yourself occupied with works to do, meeting friends at night for dinners and going to bed early was a good cycle to make me feel better without him around. Apparently I just feel sad, and it's only been a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next week is gonna be the same I guess.. But then maybe I'm flying back pretty soon now. I'm just sad that I miss him, and we haven't been able to talk much ever since the other night that I cried on the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sucks that way but what to do huh? We just gotta do what you got to.. And I'm just keeping myself real. Because dreams and fantasy are just so yesterdays I guess.......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-1008654984430172184?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/1008654984430172184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=1008654984430172184' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/1008654984430172184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/1008654984430172184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/05/one-week-is-hard-enough.html' title='One week is hard enough..'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-4703408036556445755</id><published>2010-04-28T00:18:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-28T00:27:54.145+08:00</updated><title type='text'>May time heal..</title><content type='html'>It's 28th again, another month for us has passed by. Just another 3 months and we could be a 2 year-old couple if we want to. I want to, and I know he does. Yeah, for those same certainty I know we love each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But tonight, it's not the monthsary that brings me here. My heart and my mind rush thoughts down to my finger. This is why tonight is different. I have so many things in mind, and for the for the first time I feel afraid to love and be in love. I'm not talking about just Syahmi, but my family, and then yes, my friends... I find myself putting me in the last of the list these days. I have been learning to love myself, and I sure do and am now. But why tonight, I'm asking myself if this is the best part of my life, or it's just another phase..? Or... Who knows, it's the hardest part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However as I am thinking about this, I know I can pass by this period, this lonely time and this hard time. I am afraid, but I am not afraid to try to not feel afraid. I just realise that I'm growing and things around me are changing. Even my friends are, even my life is... every single thing is. I don't blame nobody, especially God. I am pushing myself to smile and feel blessed as I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time is all I need. Maybe just tonight is the wrong time, without the right people by my side. But time is always there, time never stop.. Soooo.. Hopefully by tomorrow when I open my eyes the first thing in the morning, I will be healed.. And then a miracle for a day will happen?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-4703408036556445755?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/4703408036556445755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=4703408036556445755' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4703408036556445755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4703408036556445755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/04/may-time-heal.html' title='May time heal..'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-1269884566625881397</id><published>2010-04-14T02:36:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T02:55:06.404+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blank</title><content type='html'>It's been awhile since I blogged. I have been more on twitter 'cause it's faster, and I won't end up in long wordy post and stuff. Ha. So yeah, here I am, being bored yet random but blank. However I just feel like writing something, it's just the vibe and the mood to do so. Hur hur.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's been a long ride since 2010 started. I believe I've changed pretty much. Lemme try to list a few:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wear my high heels&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Did hair extensions which made me feel so fabulouss~ about myself. Haha&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;On the verge of becoming an alcoholic but fortunately I cut down!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Finished my Diploma course&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mama's getting married again! :)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Grown a lot from the relationship with Syahmi &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Learn to count my blessings (credits to Monica)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Love myself more!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;That are the few things that pretty much were the highlights of the years so far. I would like to say the 2 major events of this year will be mom's wedding and my lovely 18th birthday I guess? Lol. But you know, it's just saying but as for my birthday, I don't quite know how it's gonna be and I just feel that it's major so that I can buy cigarrettes without feeling that 'Would they check my IC?' and once you're 18, clubbing with friends will be easier in case impromptu outing happens. Haha. However, I do hope mama's wedding is gonna kick-ass though. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;For some strange reasons, I feel that things in my life are pretty much in my control now. I've learnt so many things from my friends, their experiences and what happened around or to us. My family also influences my mind and heart whenever it boils down those phone calls my mom make or Rose calling me, and Mon would always say that I am blessed so count my blessings before I complain about life. Alcan and Allison have been the two person I meet up with most of the times since this year I guess. They talked to me on a different level and yes, I love having them around to share my opinions and jokes and everything. Katie has too shared her stuff and shits that she's going through, which made me feel closer to her now. And for that, I would to say that she and I are Man U hardcore fans man! Haha.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am very glad that at this point of time, I can feel that I am taking things slow and remind myself that it's all in the mind. It's hard to explain, but just make it short: It's a part of growing up, and I'm learning more each day, and I am not taking any of this for granted, and lastly, I am a better me today. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Things with Syahmi have been up and down. However, because of all the things I'm going through besides him, I have come to notice that as much as I love him, if we can't compromise and if any chance we were gonna fight, I wanna be the bigger person. I really love myself a lot more now, and I hope he can see it, and love me for the way I am and all that phases I'm experiencing in life now. Well, again, it's complicating, but you will get it when you're at it. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So.. I'm tired, and I gotta talk to Alcan soon. Syahmi might wake up sooner or later for his guard duty and all. I gotta run now then, just in time huh! :)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Loves~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-1269884566625881397?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/1269884566625881397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=1269884566625881397' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/1269884566625881397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/1269884566625881397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/04/blank.html' title='Blank'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-7237028400469259568</id><published>2010-03-29T04:21:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-29T04:30:38.876+08:00</updated><title type='text'>This girl, is a dime..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/S6-622wFbrI/AAAAAAAADDM/GdUbTnCoKa0/s1600/IMG_2216.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453783125341859506" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/S6-622wFbrI/AAAAAAAADDM/GdUbTnCoKa0/s320/IMG_2216.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sometimes when you're feeling down, you have that enough energy to be angry, to hate somebody, to drown yourself in sorrows. But then I just learn that with that much of energy that you channel yourself to hatred and anger, why not switch them to positive things which motivate you to be a better person. To love yourself and not give a damn about anyone else?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just realise that yes, finally in my life I have friends who I truly love. I don't know if I would ever get hurt from them. But as for now, I feel good that I have them and I'm enjoying every moment that I'm around them. The things that they taught me has made me grown so much more from every single shit I experienced in my life. Yes, now is the time.. I'm starting to love myself. However, it's all in the mind... then comes the heart....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or... otherwise. :))))&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-7237028400469259568?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/7237028400469259568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=7237028400469259568' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7237028400469259568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7237028400469259568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/03/this-girl-is-dime.html' title='This girl, is a dime..'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/S6-622wFbrI/AAAAAAAADDM/GdUbTnCoKa0/s72-c/IMG_2216.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-2373657759930524385</id><published>2010-03-19T22:59:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T23:03:16.470+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Keep crying, but stop, when you're done and ran out..</title><content type='html'>I am miserable. I am so sad, so hurt that I'm breaking me, I'm letting myself go as I'm crying, as I'm reading his old mails, as I'm reading back the way we were, as I'm doing everything I can to see him through my eyes.. But it's too late. It's not the same. We have changed. He's not the same person, and even if I want to defend myself, there's no point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I wanna do now is to cry, and for once, I'm just gonna lay down, and cry my heart out, and follow my heart. For once, I will just cry and yes, tomorrow will be better..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just cry......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-2373657759930524385?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/2373657759930524385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=2373657759930524385' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/2373657759930524385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/2373657759930524385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/03/keep-crying-but-stop-when-youre-done.html' title='Keep crying, but stop, when you&apos;re done and ran out..'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-608701550205083280</id><published>2010-03-03T07:08:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T07:08:06.111+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Envision something bad..</title><content type='html'>Funny it seems that I can't sleep at this hour. I could try but yeah..sooner or later I will still into slumber. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny it seems that i'm thinking the things that would break me. And. I wonder how nasty things could go if one fails. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny it seems that when the sun is going up right outside my window, I'm visualizing something about you and me, which I doubt can be considered any good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all we've been through, I just wish things could be save. I wish you will love me enough to save it all again. To save me from myself, to save us from falling. But no, here I am thinking if we were to go different ways, you would be a different man. I don't know what but it kills. It kills just by thinking and imagining how you would change and become. Of kills enough just by the thought of it. And so I think to myself, can I, or would I, or will I ever be able to take it if they were all real? Could I ever take looking at you changing and being a different person I know and love? For that, I am afraid. For that I fear. I fear I won't be able to take it, to see you change, to see me change, to see me try to lie to myself and convince that I will be ok without you around. For all of that, I am terrified. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, will this be it? Or it wouldn't be so bad? Well, ... God knows.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-608701550205083280?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/608701550205083280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=608701550205083280' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/608701550205083280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/608701550205083280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/03/envision-something-bad.html' title='Envision something bad..'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-2415447397701849325</id><published>2010-03-02T02:31:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-02T03:14:28.592+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I see you, everywhere around..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/S4wO1vvsBnI/AAAAAAAADDE/_ala-gR-lnI/s1600-h/IMG_1497.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/S4wO1vvsBnI/AAAAAAAADDE/_ala-gR-lnI/s320/IMG_1497.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443742366096426610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, there's another sad person in this planet and that is me. Somebody who cries at night, who thinks that love is so easy but is so hard at the same time. Somebody who reads the same old stories over and over again, who still lives in the past of the good old memories and memorizes it all in details. I'm that somebody. I'm more than somebody. I am sadder that just that somebody. Why? Because I'm so lost. I've managed to lose the light in this path, with him. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight when I sleep, I will hope to get a chance to see him in my dreams. I miss him so much. I wish things aren't the way they are now. We were so happy, we were the happiest couple. We were more than just lovers. We, were nothing but just in love, were nothing but crazy about each other. He was the best thing that happened to me. He is the only one thing that lasts in my heart. I wish we didn't grow, I wish he was always there. I wish he were the same. But I don't know if he would take it all back from the beginning. I don't know. I wish I know, but in the end of the day, I really don't know. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I read about the things we did. I read about me and him falling in love, about me and him staying up late when we were just friends. I read about the old stories that we created together. I read it all back. And I feel extremely broken, because he was so in love with me. He was the thing that I lived for. Yes, as silly as it sounds, but yes, I really lived my life with him back them. I waited for him everyday, I just wanted to talk with him everyday, I longed for him everyday, and I just begged God to let me with him.. and I got it. I got it all the way I wanted. But.... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm going crazy. I cannot take it anymore. And I don't know if God would talk to me this time. But I have no other choice than to keep breathing... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I see him everywhere in my room, I feel him underneath my skin, even the air I'm breathing I smell him everywhere.. I doubt I can escape this.. It's killing me. But yes, I have no other choice than to keep breathing.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-2415447397701849325?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/2415447397701849325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=2415447397701849325' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/2415447397701849325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/2415447397701849325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-see-you-everywhere-around.html' title='I see you, everywhere around..'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/S4wO1vvsBnI/AAAAAAAADDE/_ala-gR-lnI/s72-c/IMG_1497.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-4221945861066576011</id><published>2010-02-12T02:53:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-02-12T02:59:48.776+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hey, school's a bitch!</title><content type='html'>And yeah, school's gonna be over as long as the exams are over. Motherfucker. Yeah i just had to say it. Why? &lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;It's 3am and i'm awake.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;It's because of tomorrow's PR paper.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I decided to change my chosen questions so I just rushed to make new notes&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm tired but I'm scared to sleep.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I really wanna screw my paper but I know that's the last thing I wanna do&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;(Yeah, keep telling yourself that Rosa~)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I hate exams in the morning!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I hate exams at this HOLIDAY SEASON&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm gonna miss school so much. Not the exams part but the friends part. Yeah, sad; with the capital S like this: S.a.d. Or maybe no, all capital looks better: S.A.D. Yeah. That's better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok bye. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-4221945861066576011?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/4221945861066576011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=4221945861066576011' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4221945861066576011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4221945861066576011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/02/hey-schools-bitch.html' title='Hey, school&apos;s a bitch!'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-877270823728844213</id><published>2010-01-29T01:55:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-29T01:55:17.187+08:00</updated><title type='text'>In my bed...</title><content type='html'>Because having an iTouch is so instant, or an iPhone for that matters, I can just lay in bed right now and blog. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First: My laptop is stupid because I kept losing my wireless connection. Hence it pisses me off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second: I decided that I just blog and perhaps get knocked out the next moment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt fucked. Not literally obviously bit anyway that's not re point here. The point here is that I do not anticipate the idea of not being appreciated. I wonder how long can I feel appreciated and love again. Well even though I'm in love and more or less happy being in the relationship with my bf, but in the end of the day, I'm still a girl and a human, with a heart and desires and dreams and hopes and so many things else besides such. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forgot how it was like to be loved and needed and I miss it. I'm sure somewhere inside him there's a spot for me with love. But where were those loving moments that we used to share? I miss the romance. The chase and the sweet-nothings. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss something about the old us which never seems to come back. But yeah, it's just something that I wish for. He rarely gets it. He's in the army. And we're young. It's just about life. It's not about the perfection that I want. It's sad sometimes. Like now, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boo. I feel pathetic when I told Allison:&lt;br /&gt;"I forgot how it was like to be loved. I think I love him more than he does."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-877270823728844213?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/877270823728844213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=877270823728844213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/877270823728844213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/877270823728844213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/01/in-my-bed.html' title='In my bed...'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-6879359903233865424</id><published>2010-01-21T01:49:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T02:11:18.088+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Too much that I could cry..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/S1dEqaBW0UI/AAAAAAAADC8/SuZ3l_kS180/s1600-h/IMG_0373.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/S1dEqaBW0UI/AAAAAAAADC8/SuZ3l_kS180/s200/IMG_0373.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428883371148628290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On air: So Special - Oka feat. Sabria&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight, everything sets in at this lonely hour, without you, without anything about you, I can't seem to fall asleep the easy way. I just had to cry the solitude away. I miss you so much. It's strange because I never thought I'd miss you this much for such a long time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ever since you were enlisted, things were different. However, things change as we all know it. I've missed you so damn badly before, but not as much as this time. It's strange that way. I miss you too much that I could cry, too much that I cried. I never know I'd need you this much. Not being to hear your voice, to have you to text me in the 6am in the morning and all of those little things of the week, not having all that now, it breaks my heart. Those things were the only thing to keep me going for the week before weekend comes when I can see you again. Now, asking me to wait for you, not having any of those, it kills me. I want to hear your voice and I miss you so much. Baby, I miss you so much. Your phone is ringing, but why can't you just pick it up and say hello? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;:'(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-6879359903233865424?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/6879359903233865424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=6879359903233865424' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6879359903233865424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6879359903233865424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/01/too-much-that-i-could-cry.html' title='Too much that I could cry..'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/S1dEqaBW0UI/AAAAAAAADC8/SuZ3l_kS180/s72-c/IMG_0373.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-6865420694542286048</id><published>2010-01-15T02:45:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T02:59:14.099+08:00</updated><title type='text'>2010</title><content type='html'>A small note before I sleep:&lt;div&gt;-------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If I have chance to fast forward the time, I'd make it 11th September tomorrow. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, this year is gonna havoc! 18 and blossoms! It's legal clubbing now. Yayweeyay! :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But that's alright, the longer the wait, the worthier the outcome will be. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Patience will be paid off. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Goodnight then. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;p.s. so much for ever wanted to write a long post for new year. boo! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-6865420694542286048?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/6865420694542286048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=6865420694542286048' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6865420694542286048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6865420694542286048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/01/2010.html' title='2010'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-6821280510781356783</id><published>2010-01-13T18:39:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T18:44:41.595+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Closet Affair</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/S02kClcAS0I/AAAAAAAADCs/OS6G9aOdWgQ/s1600-h/IMG_1366.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/S02kClcAS0I/AAAAAAAADCs/OS6G9aOdWgQ/s320/IMG_1366.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426173490367580994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Sometimes the allure of a woman lies not anywhere else, &lt;/i&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;but the clothes on her back.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Perhaps it's the way she moves, &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;or the way it hugs her curves - Whatever it is,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;it makes us want to rip it off&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;and strew them on our bedroom floor. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- New Man&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-6821280510781356783?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/6821280510781356783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=6821280510781356783' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6821280510781356783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6821280510781356783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2010/01/closet-affair.html' title='A Closet Affair'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/S02kClcAS0I/AAAAAAAADCs/OS6G9aOdWgQ/s72-c/IMG_1366.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-207790086675476513</id><published>2009-12-22T00:58:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T01:08:13.186+08:00</updated><title type='text'>You&amp;Me, against the world</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sy-qf3fmp6I/AAAAAAAADCk/U6UA2Puf0Ac/s1600-h/IMG_1156.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sy-qf3fmp6I/AAAAAAAADCk/U6UA2Puf0Ac/s200/IMG_1156.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417736341199169442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sy-qfC3GU4I/AAAAAAAADCc/F_gHoD0BAjA/s200/IMG_1155.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417736327070634882" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas is coming, who doesn't feel it? Hmmm.. Shall make plans for this Christmas Eve! &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S. I love you, boy!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-207790086675476513?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/207790086675476513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=207790086675476513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/207790086675476513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/207790086675476513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/12/you-against-world.html' title='You&amp;Me, against the world'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sy-qf3fmp6I/AAAAAAAADCk/U6UA2Puf0Ac/s72-c/IMG_1156.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-4744341848010857791</id><published>2009-12-10T23:14:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T23:31:03.172+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Have I made up my mind?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SyETKdqR8WI/AAAAAAAADCM/oCviTjh1K-k/s1600-h/IMG_0075%5B1%5D"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SyETKdqR8WI/AAAAAAAADCM/oCviTjh1K-k/s320/IMG_0075%5B1%5D" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413629297557631330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Just before I thought everything was almost alright, I was dead wrong. For one more time, there we were having good time and laughing and spending quality time, the same old thing happened. And this time I felt so bloody hurt that even in the cab, my heart was literally aching and leaping. It's not a good happy leap. It was the painful one, the one that lets you know it's sinking and it's not going away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that it happened again, we fought over the damn old fucking reason, so I asked myself if I'm prepared to decide what's for  the best this time. I have already given myself thoughts and told myself that the next time it happens, I shall do something good out of it so we both won't never have to fight about it again. However, now that it did, and it's so fucked-up when I know that I will be thinking of the way out now. I think it's almost time when enough is enough. And I'm so hurt that heart doesn't convince me any longer, and my heart doesn't tell me that I should fight and go on. I guess it's just too painful that my heart can't fight it no more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This funny feeling is like having your heart ripped off and perhaps that part is already dying and fading away.. My heart has just died. And now it's just so dead. Reality sounds real as it does.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-4744341848010857791?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/4744341848010857791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=4744341848010857791' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4744341848010857791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4744341848010857791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/12/have-i-made-up-my-mind.html' title='Have I made up my mind?'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SyETKdqR8WI/AAAAAAAADCM/oCviTjh1K-k/s72-c/IMG_0075%5B1%5D' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-7860010529657382136</id><published>2009-12-07T00:33:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T23:31:20.083+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What have I done for you?</title><content type='html'>The moment I walked in my room just now, I broke down. This room is empty. It's never this empty until today. Until today when whatever happened yesterday could just change my whole life onwards. I never need someone, and never want someone the way I do when I'm with you. I risked almost my future and my whole heart to be right where you are. It's not a good feeling to look in your eyes and think that I could let you go because I love you so much. I'm so scared to hurt you, now and more in the future. I've hurt you enough to know you're afraid and you're insecure. I've hurt you enough to know you don't trust me the same way you did. Things changed too much. You changed. And what keeps us lasting is for the simply fact we know we love each other. But yet, something about yesterday that came out from you, it keeps on playing from the back of my mind that I don't know, I really don't know if I can be with you. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even walking away from you to the bus stop, looking back to get a glimpse of you, I couldn't even stand the distance between us. As the bus was going further, I started crying. I cried in the bus. I cried because I wish you knew. I wish you will know one day why I am here for, I wish you know my feelings and what I want. I said I could do anything for you, but I know I can't do it when I'm with you. I can't let you go to someone else when I know I deserve you more than them because I know I'm the only who cares the most out of all those people ever exist in your life, except your parents and your family. Even your friends, I know I beat them. I know if you were down and at your worst, I know I'd stick to the end with you regardless of how and what. I know they wouldn't care as much as I do for you. I know they are for your thrills, for your laughers and freedom. And it hurts to know.. they are for you to run for escape. From me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's not easy. To be in this place, to know that most of me is yours. I feel stupid. And I told you that. It is like my heart, my soul, my almost everything, you've taken it all. At times I feel like I live this life for you but not for myself, not even for my family, the one who made it happen for me to be with you. It is unfair. It is unfair to want you so much and yet you don't want me the same way. Reason is.. You're not alone here. I am. I am alone here even if I have no penny in my pocket, I still have to go on. I am alone here even if my friends can't be there for me, I still have to go on. I am alone here even when you choose not to be with me, I still have to fight.. to go on. Without you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have so many dreams. And all of them you are in it. My dreams of being you and everything else. My dreams are so loud and clear that I thought I could scream to the whole world that you are the one. And reality bites, my dreams shatter because you don't see me as the person I wish I was in your eyes. Maybe I was, for a period of time. But you've changed. You've changed into someone who takes love into another pace. And I feel like I'm the blame for it because I hurt you. I am thinking about it, and it kills me. I am thinking that if I should walk away from you now, how would it make me the next day to know I'm not with you anymore? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was so brutal. So painful to hear from you that your life was miserable because of me and yet you can't walk away from me. It was just plain brutal and heartbreaking that I can't get it out of my mind. And your words haunt me every minute when I am awake. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe just one day, when the day would come, you realize how much this life offers you without me, you would do it. And maybe just one day, perhaps another day after that, I wish you would realize that if I were the one thing missing from your life, you can think of me and be proud that I existed in this world, and be proud that I love so very much. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just want you to now. I just want you to know. To know me, and just to know me. Now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before I'm not there anymore. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You know, baby? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-7860010529657382136?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/7860010529657382136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=7860010529657382136' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7860010529657382136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7860010529657382136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/12/what-have-i-done-for-you.html' title='What have I done for you?'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-5062712079035648553</id><published>2009-12-01T00:40:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T00:56:40.250+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Feerring feerring ahhhh...~</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SxP2bxe_sUI/AAAAAAAADB8/mFcSvFU7OoQ/s1600/13554_189969611630_525941630_3500271_2626146_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SxP2bxe_sUI/AAAAAAAADB8/mFcSvFU7OoQ/s320/13554_189969611630_525941630_3500271_2626146_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409938534402339138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SxP2bmueqTI/AAAAAAAADB0/MbpFr7l03zw/s1600/13554_189969626630_525941630_3500273_5841648_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SxP2bmueqTI/AAAAAAAADB0/MbpFr7l03zw/s320/13554_189969626630_525941630_3500273_5841648_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409938531514493234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SxP2bZxeY3I/AAAAAAAADBs/3bN6qiNWdT8/s1600/13554_189969621630_525941630_3500272_636503_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SxP2bZxeY3I/AAAAAAAADBs/3bN6qiNWdT8/s320/13554_189969621630_525941630_3500272_636503_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409938528037397362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SxP2axmiGkI/AAAAAAAADBk/PtiCwUNGgBg/s1600/13554_189969601630_525941630_3500269_5086025_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SxP2axmiGkI/AAAAAAAADBk/PtiCwUNGgBg/s1600/13554_189969601630_525941630_3500269_5086025_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SxP2axmiGkI/AAAAAAAADBk/PtiCwUNGgBg/s320/13554_189969601630_525941630_3500269_5086025_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409938517254085186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After reading the wonderful post from Allison's blog, I got 'feeling'. Ha. Although it might sound like I'm bragging but yes, I realize that with their presence, I feel much happier and more complete when I drag myself to school. It's becoming easier to go school and know you will have a good laugh with your classmates and you know you care for them and so do they. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's more than taking a bus to school, smoke and sit down in the class and listen to boring lectures. It's about doing all that with them: buying bubble tea, cheese fries, smoking, making the dirtiest and lamest joke, and scold vulgar in Vietnamese, and blah blah. Lol. Thinking about it makes me feel really funny and I could even laugh to myself sometimes. But I do admit that yes, it's been more than twice or more that I felt this way about having such friends in my life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am grateful. And I am really really thankful that all this happened for a reason, a good reason. The memories I shall keeeeep! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SxP4XaRmx6I/AAAAAAAADCE/RO0_Rpu9PZU/s320/IMG_0015.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 277px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409940658475943842" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;P.S. I don't wanna deny my heart its chance to feel. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;No matter how much it aches, I know I love him&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It's hard to describe, but once you're in it, you'll know how it makes you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;ily,Syahmi.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-5062712079035648553?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/5062712079035648553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=5062712079035648553' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5062712079035648553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5062712079035648553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/12/feerring-feerring-ahhhh.html' title='Feerring feerring ahhhh...~'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SxP2bxe_sUI/AAAAAAAADB8/mFcSvFU7OoQ/s72-c/13554_189969611630_525941630_3500271_2626146_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-6180412277456617413</id><published>2009-11-29T01:34:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T01:34:00.787+08:00</updated><title type='text'>"I just want to be happy"</title><content type='html'>I just wish my eyes would last in his the same way they last in mine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love him. So much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I watched Twilight New Moon alreadyy. In your face bitches!!!!! Lalalalala&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-6180412277456617413?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/6180412277456617413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=6180412277456617413' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6180412277456617413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6180412277456617413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/11/just-want-to-be-happy.html' title='&amp;quot;I just want to be happy&amp;quot;'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-757311831351634917</id><published>2009-11-27T04:13:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-27T04:13:58.809+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What kind of dream is this?</title><content type='html'>I put Beyonce song on repeat. I can't sleep even I've drank a full glass of Absolut Temptation. Mixture of Absolut Vodka and apple juice, wonderful drink. I admit that I'm feeling light bit my heart isn't at ease. I'm so hurt. I feel so much pain that this feeling I can't fight with anymore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loving him aches me. I'd do anything to see him happy. And being with him, I've got excruciatingly high expections that either of us can meet. He said he can't be that perfect that bf I want him to be, and likewise I can't seem to be someone who understands and loves him the way I should. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's painful. It's so painful that he had to say that he wants a bf who gives a decent good life. Sadly, I'm not that gf he expects me to be. I spent this few hours to think if I should pack up his stuff and prepare my guts to give him that life. And as expected, my heart hurts so bad that all I could do was to set my hp to silent mode and deactivate vibration mode, plug off my house phone line and lock myself in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My drink made me even more sober. I feel sad that people around me who's in love and they are so happy with their partners. They seem so happy and so in love. They have bfs/gfs who are not afraid to tell them that they are loved. They are not afraid to say I Love You on the phone. They are not afraid to show their friends that they love their partners and not afraid to be loving in front of others. And again, sadly my bf thinks it's gay to do that. And I wondered to myself that it is so unfair that while I love so much, I give him so much, I want to give him so much, I am so willing to give him more, I can't have him the way I wish God would understand me. It hurts so bad to close your eyes and cry out for someone you love. And think of the days ahead of you living without that person you cannot live without. It hurts so bad. You wouldn't know it. You wouldn't know, only if you really really feel it. And if you never feel it, I am just hoping you would..one day. Why can't you see it, out if all the people? And if this isn't love, then I don't know what it is. I don't know what love is if I'm trying to gather my thoughts and emotions fir this Inc decision to see the smile on the face if the one person I love so dearly. I really don't. I guess. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-757311831351634917?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/757311831351634917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=757311831351634917' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/757311831351634917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/757311831351634917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/11/what-kind-of-dream-is-this.html' title='What kind of dream is this?'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-4890507987648035272</id><published>2009-11-23T03:12:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T03:18:22.341+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lonely you, poor you.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SwmNfHUphtI/AAAAAAAADBc/TEmYNN_ZIxQ/s1600/these_lonely_nights_by_sweetpotato_ABC.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SwmNfHUphtI/AAAAAAAADBc/TEmYNN_ZIxQ/s320/these_lonely_nights_by_sweetpotato_ABC.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407008393316107986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Being on computer for hours, trying to catch some sleep, it makes you think about things that made sense. Somehow, at night, lonely nights, I'll be wiser. And I realize, lonely nights are just for show. Sunrise will come, mornings are to take over. You will still have to face it, face the damn sun and put that smile on your face. Be happy, and good things will come. They don't happen otherwise. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-4890507987648035272?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/4890507987648035272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=4890507987648035272' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4890507987648035272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4890507987648035272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/11/lonely-you-poor-you.html' title='Lonely you, poor you.'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SwmNfHUphtI/AAAAAAAADBc/TEmYNN_ZIxQ/s72-c/these_lonely_nights_by_sweetpotato_ABC.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-7155694645971324046</id><published>2009-11-19T00:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T00:47:30.289+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Leftoevers</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SwQk5F7VimI/AAAAAAAADBM/Q19cCurP3ds/s1600/IMG_0024.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 277px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SwQk5F7VimI/AAAAAAAADBM/Q19cCurP3ds/s320/IMG_0024.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405486016013634146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I just made a new playlist for my blog. The songs are Satisfy by Vedera, Angel by Leona Lewis and Betcha' Gon Know by Mariah Carey. I just find the songs very smoothing and calm, with meaningful lyrics. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So this is the first entry of November. My wireless has been cocked-up and I hadn't been online for quite some time. It's a good thing that it's fixed now and I decided to just write something for feed then. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There weather has been kind. I don't know know if I can conclude that Mid-November, Singapore has got good weather to sleep in and smoke cigarettes and coffee with, because I wasn't here last year at this time. I forgot if I ever took note of the weather for the the previous 4-coming-to-5 years here but that isn't the case I believe. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been silly today. Something struck on my head and I don't know why I allowed it to shake me a little when it shouldn't be at all. It sucks to be honest. I don't wanna think about the past and how it got me. I don't wanna know the unsaid leftovers by someone's doing to get me thinking after 2 years from its event. I don't even think I should seek for it when somehow it can make me feeling like shit. Fuck that please. Good Lord help me then.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have not been much of someone who writes about life, about death, about other matured things or what. I just think most of the times, the motive that gets me here, writing, is because of love and its matter. Love and the heart-breaks. Love and the ups and downs. Love and how it takes me always, how it breaks me and how it makes me feel like the happiest person on Earth. I truly believe in love, in the kind of love that can break through and stay with me for the rest of my life. Now that I'm at it, I don't know if I can confidently say that this love is the same it used to be. Life has changed and its toll gets me. My relationship isn't the same with the way it was back in early 2008 or afterward. It fucking hurts me at times I'm so sad that those feelings are gone, those feelings that twinkle nose, the kind that makes me smile and hug myself in bed and thank God every single minutes it strikes me. Funny but it's so true. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It takes 2 to kiss. Takes 2 to clap, to build it on. I wish my bf will think of the beginning, and miss it and make me feel that same feeling. However, somehow deep down in me, I'm uncertain whether if he would ever do that. There are uncertainties I have of him, of us, and I'm so afraid that one day I can't hold them any longer. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But there is one thing I am never uncertain of, that is I love him. I love him so much that I think about other assholes, and I'm so glad I've found this right one. I hate to think that way, because it makes me look vulnerable. But I'm silly that way. That fucking stupid way. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For that, I'm going to continue reading my current book, Love Lives by Josie Lloyd &amp;amp; Emlyn Rees and hopefully I will finish it by tonight and move on to my other book that I bought from Vietnam. Don't have to doubt it, all my books are love-related. Yes, I'm helpless that way, you see? =/&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last but not least, I'm gonna start on my Wedding Planning Proposal for tomorrow, and I hope I'm gonna do a good job and get the cert with a graceful smile on my face. Good night people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-7155694645971324046?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/7155694645971324046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=7155694645971324046' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7155694645971324046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7155694645971324046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/11/leftoevers.html' title='The Leftoevers'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SwQk5F7VimI/AAAAAAAADBM/Q19cCurP3ds/s72-c/IMG_0024.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-8110771790201573023</id><published>2009-10-07T23:39:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T23:58:15.413+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why am I so cold?</title><content type='html'>I've been thinking since the past few days about how I am feeling. I tried to sort out my feelings by asking what's important and what's not. And because of what happened around me, my friends and their heart-breaks, I asked myself: 'Can you live without me?' &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I asked him on the phone, just out of curiosity, and he told me 'Well.. it's not until like that.' I was speechless. Although it's not a good reason to be upset and dwell and cry for, but maybe because of just that one thing I pondered about, it makes me see beyond this line. Makes me see what's ahead of me and what I should be doing for myself. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I realised I've been sacrificing a lot of me for quite sometimes, I almost gave up what I thought I believed in, just to work things out. However, now I feel like my limits are there, and it's getting there. I will be tired one day. I know it and I'm totally aware of what would happen if things go wrong. In fact, I can clearly know how it feels like, and I know I prepare myself for the worst all the times. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't run away from the fact that my relationship changed so much ever since I came here. For the pass 5-almost-6 months in Singapore, our relationship has not been the same like the way I used to love it before. It's sad. It's really sad. Well I could just deny it and always show that I'm happy with him, and when I'm upset I'd write and cry. It happens all the time. But my point here is that: it doesn't feel like before anymore, I am hurt because of what it feels like now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Despite being in the same country, and knowing that it's a lot easier to make up to things, we just drift apart more sometimes. And last time? This love was so beautiful. And I miss that a lot. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even now that he's in camp, we don't talk that much anymore, and I don't text him much as I used to during the first 2 weeks. The cycle has changed. And to adapt to it is not an easy thing to do, trust me. Even now that I've more freedom, I still take most of those times living my life thinking about him, he still doesn't trust me. That's the worst part. That is the part I hate the most. That is the part that I am feeling cold, and I am thinking I can stop. That is the part I don't know if I can ever fight for it back. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He doesn't trust me. And he won't know the right things to say, will he? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-8110771790201573023?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/8110771790201573023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=8110771790201573023' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/8110771790201573023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/8110771790201573023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/10/why-am-i-so-cold.html' title='Why am I so cold?'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-8501682271474750478</id><published>2009-10-07T00:11:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T00:56:53.932+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Be With You</title><content type='html'>Things were good, and then sometimes bad. That's just life. No one really sits at one corner, doing nothing and waiting for a miracle to happen to make their lives better. You can't love nothing, you can't love waiting. Thus, you will never love waiting for nothing. So yes, life goes on and as much as you want to make things right for yourself, things will get hard. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For you Alcan, things will look up on their own. Things will come back to the right places even if time crawls. Just stay strong and you're never alone. I know you hardly will ever read this but 'steeeeel'... Take care and smile alwayssss! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I won't be blogging long posts unless I'm soooooo free and inspired, but now I just wanna point out that yeah, I'm digging this song by Akon called Be With You. It's awesome and major, man!!! Urghhhh &gt;.&lt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:10px;"&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: left; line-height: normal; text-indent: 0px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;And no one knows&lt;br /&gt;Why i'm into you&lt;br /&gt;Cause you'll never know what its like to walk in our shoes&lt;br /&gt;And no one know, the things we've been through&lt;br /&gt;Can never measure up to half of what i put you through&lt;br /&gt;That's why we'll break through&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: left; line-height: normal; text-indent: 0px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;And i don't care what they say&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna be with you&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna be with you&lt;br /&gt;I wanna be with you&lt;br /&gt;And i don't care what they do&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna be with you&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna be with you&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna be with you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S. Will we break through?? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;xoxo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-8501682271474750478?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/8501682271474750478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=8501682271474750478' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/8501682271474750478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/8501682271474750478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/10/be-with-you.html' title='Be With You'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-6996785211583610657</id><published>2009-09-29T20:18:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T20:23:07.150+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Go the hell, Psycho!!!</title><content type='html'>By 12am tonight, I have to submit my assignment with Gwen and Angelie about this stupid Psychology-related shit. I feel like I've been psyched, like seriously. I'm at Clarke Quay Whooper Bar now though, just finished my editorial of the research and referencing. It's fucked-up, serious. It was last minute that we have to complete this and we had to go to library and look for books for referencing, and then editing the text and explaining bullshits like Social Cognitive, Schema, Stereotypes and Prejudice. For God's sake, we have to give solutions on how to improve humans' minds about the world. GODDAMNED THIS MODULE. Go to hell. Why the fuck do Mass Comm students need this for?!!?!?! -_____________-  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Urgh urgh urgh. Ok I'm gonna get back to my work now. Bye!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-6996785211583610657?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/6996785211583610657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=6996785211583610657' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6996785211583610657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6996785211583610657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/09/go-hell-psycho.html' title='Go the hell, Psycho!!!'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-1638443759942180424</id><published>2009-09-28T00:37:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T00:37:53.849+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bored bored bored</title><content type='html'>I feel like drinking! Ok nvm. I'm really really bored. How how how howwwwwwwwwww?!??!?!?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-1638443759942180424?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/1638443759942180424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=1638443759942180424' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/1638443759942180424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/1638443759942180424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/09/bored-bored-bored.html' title='Bored bored bored'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-5897871221602365576</id><published>2009-09-27T01:55:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T02:06:48.910+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Still my life</title><content type='html'>I hate it when people nose in my problems, nose in the things that I'm doing and talk about and boss me around. When it comes to my family doing that to me, I know that it's for good, but somehow I wish they could understand that this is still my life that I'm living, I'm big enough to know what I'm doing and don't worry about the things that should not be worried.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I quarreled with my mom earlier on the phone just now. I was so pissed and angry that I cried. Pissed-cry I call it. Again, I know she cares for me and for the fact that I picked up smoking freaks her out and she totally hates it, to the point she called me and gave me all the moral and harsh things. I don't mean to hate it, but I just wanted a little space of my own. I find things to do to give the back of my mind a corner to escape so I will smoke sometimes. Then comes my sister, for a moment I hated her so much and thought I could never trust her but now that I'm thinking of what happened just now, I can't blame them for loving me and caring for me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I'm still working on my assignments. I've been slacking. There are a lot of things I wanna do and get back on track. I want to lose some weight and cut down on my beer 'cause my tummy shows. I want to go back to swimming and I need a tan so badly. I want to go back to the same girl I was when I was like in sec2 or sec3, when I will go home and swim and tan and soak myself and dive in the water. Those were the times I relied on myself through lonesome, and those were the times when I give no shits about what others think about me when I was just sitting in Starbucks alone doing my assignment and homework. I miss being myself last time. I've changed definitely. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well I'm gonna go and do other things now. I will sleep early tonight I guess. I'm having cramps and stuff. Tired tired. And I've been tweet-ing alot! Urghhh. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-5897871221602365576?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/5897871221602365576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=5897871221602365576' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5897871221602365576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5897871221602365576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/09/still-my-life.html' title='Still my life'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-6251573945181616362</id><published>2009-09-25T02:31:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T02:40:20.253+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodnight my love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sru7XcHYVTI/AAAAAAAADBE/c0Iqbfqnk5g/s1600-h/IMG_0010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sru7XcHYVTI/AAAAAAAADBE/c0Iqbfqnk5g/s320/IMG_0010.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385103790810092850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Finally got to talk to him for like 45 minutes just now. That's the longest time we talked on the phone so far ever since he went in. I miss him dearly. It's sad that all I got from him was 'My handphone dying already. K k I love you I love you....' and then it got disconnected. :(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;When the night has come, that is when I crave for his presence the most. When I lay in bed, all I wish for is just him being next to me and hug me. Those nights were always the best nights that I had. I miss him! I MISS HIM! God, I'm not emo-ing but it's true that I really miss him. 7 days more till his book-out! Can't wait for nuts. Urghhhh. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Anyway, I guess I should head to bed after this. For the first time in this week I wanna go school on time and do something more effective. Lately I've been slacking a lot and it's not cool. Grr. Before I sleep, I'm gonna send him a text and try to sleep. So now, goodnight! Bye.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;P.S. I Love You, Syahmi. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;P.S.S. I watched P.S. I love you yesterday and thumbs-up!!! Alright that's about it. No moral but yeah. Byeeeeee.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-6251573945181616362?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/6251573945181616362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=6251573945181616362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6251573945181616362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6251573945181616362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/09/goodnight-my-love.html' title='Goodnight my love'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sru7XcHYVTI/AAAAAAAADBE/c0Iqbfqnk5g/s72-c/IMG_0010.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-6668984816079243292</id><published>2009-09-24T00:14:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T00:21:07.616+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy for nothing..</title><content type='html'>I'm so happy. I don't really know why. I switched on my laptop and the first song I tuned in was Best for Last by Adele and somehow it got me feeling tingly. Ha. Blah I know. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway gonna start doing my projects and stuff ASAP! I realised that since Bf is in camp, instead of stoning and bumming, I might just occupy myself with the stuff which I'm actually supposed to focus on with my 110%. I know rightttt... Fuck I'm a slacker already. No not cool.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bye! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;P.S. Here's something I did yesterday while missing Bf. Hahaha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SrpKylFs8ZI/AAAAAAAADA8/lWYBve-Gb6s/s320/wallpaper.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 232px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384698537284792722" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-6668984816079243292?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/6668984816079243292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=6668984816079243292' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6668984816079243292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6668984816079243292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/09/happy-for-nothing.html' title='Happy for nothing..'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SrpKylFs8ZI/AAAAAAAADA8/lWYBve-Gb6s/s72-c/wallpaper.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-5580557596589327516</id><published>2009-09-22T23:37:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T00:06:58.113+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wake me up when September ends</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Srj11gaJtdI/AAAAAAAADA0/SN_vR4TT6sI/s1600-h/DSC09131.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Srj11gaJtdI/AAAAAAAADA0/SN_vR4TT6sI/s320/DSC09131.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384323654102922706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Now that September is ending and October is nearing, for all you know in a blink another year will pass by again. I've realised plenty of things ever since my birthday. I've known and talked to more people and my mind opened up to so many options about my life and everything. Only this year birthday, I realised that I seriously grew older. Now I'm happy about what's around me. Although I still believe that I'm a no-life fucker who can't stand being and home and bumming my life away, I know I still know how to have fun sometimes and live my life.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've got my Number 1 Mommy and Sister that I couldn't ask for more. Of course no family is always happy and perfect, but blood is thicker than water so why I should make myself feeling lonely and when I know back there at home, I have the forever support and love from where I came from in the first place. :) Of course not forgetting my friends at Vietnam as well. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then... I've got a loving boyfriend who's in Army right now but who cares? The first time he booked out I got pretty turned on of his tan and his arms were O.O! Ha. I mean people say things about the way to sustain a relationship while the guy is serving NS but now that I'm the one who's doing it and in it, I know I have to keep it up and give my best shot. Well even if the worst that ever happens, then yeah.. life still goes on, doesn't it? The reason that now I'm being less emotional and paranoid about everything is that I've felt the most fucked-up period of our relationship that things almost stopped totally, and I got out of it. We both got out of it and we gave each other chances to continue. So now is when the only point to go on is just be happy and let's just make love but not war. Urgh. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Anyway, I don't think that I've got nothing to do. Now that I'm thinking about what I can do, I realise I've like tons of it. Such as uploading my pictures to my Multiply and then updating stuff that has to be done, doing school projects (which supposed to be my priority!!!) and other errands I gotta run for myself. Fuck man. I'm so screwed. Yeah, maybe when September ends then I shall stop stoning. Ha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-5580557596589327516?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/5580557596589327516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=5580557596589327516' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5580557596589327516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5580557596589327516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/09/wake-me-up-when-september-ends.html' title='Wake me up when September ends'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Srj11gaJtdI/AAAAAAAADA0/SN_vR4TT6sI/s72-c/DSC09131.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-7037055668752731201</id><published>2009-09-16T00:44:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T00:55:46.179+08:00</updated><title type='text'>No time tonight. No sleep tonight.</title><content type='html'>I've been busy since the last time I got back from Vietnam which was like last few weeks? It's been a crazy week and hectic time since then. When I got back, ups and downs come and go like as though heart-beat is read. It's funny that things have been out of control but I'm still here, fixing and putting up every little missing piece into places again. Sometimes I think that all it takes for one to realise, is for them to start growing and learn to appreciate. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I could hurt and break, but yes, I know in the end of the day, I will give and love twice, or thrice the hurt that I would have to do. It might be unreasonable, but at least I'm learning to give and take. I'm learning to take chances and hope for it, so I could improve, so I could love and give more. The process hurts, but perhaps you should do the same thing too, don't you think?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's not easy to look at someone's else and cry your heart out and your soul is torn. It's not easy to feel like you deserve it but to that person, you don't. Hence, the more you give, you're giving in vain. You could yes, just give blindly and accept this for the sake of Mother of Love? But hey, you will reach to the point that one day, you have nothing else left in you to give anymore. Me? That's how I feel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wish I could somewhat fall asleep early tonight. And I miss the hugs and the kisses. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-7037055668752731201?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/7037055668752731201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=7037055668752731201' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7037055668752731201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7037055668752731201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/09/no-time-tonight-no-sleep-tonight.html' title='No time tonight. No sleep tonight.'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-8879438552923953892</id><published>2009-08-20T01:22:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T01:26:59.650+08:00</updated><title type='text'>How long more?</title><content type='html'>I am so still. I am so speechless of what to say and I am so lost that I don't know what to do and what to feel. I can't wait forever, I'm not someone who to be called and left fore. Who the fuck am I really to you? Do I look like I deserve all that? I have had enough. Please just wake up and do something it. I'm really tired. I'm so tired of me being hurt here, crying and breaking, but I have to hold back and put that smile on my face. Or worse, I have to restrain myself to look for you. Who are we now? Not the same? Why do I have to feel this way? How long more do you want me around? How long more do you need your space and how long more am I supposed to cut myself with these? Tell me. I'm really really hurt. I really really am breaking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You just don't know. And you don't even do anything about it to find out, to know, about me.... about me..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-8879438552923953892?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/8879438552923953892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=8879438552923953892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/8879438552923953892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/8879438552923953892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/08/how-long-more.html' title='How long more?'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-6548495213205564277</id><published>2009-08-18T03:08:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T03:23:18.921+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tears dry on their own</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SomsR24-d-I/AAAAAAAADAs/b_EK4UBKskQ/s1600-h/Image104.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 160px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371013453408270306" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SomsR24-d-I/AAAAAAAADAs/b_EK4UBKskQ/s200/Image104.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SomsRd-8wOI/AAAAAAAADAk/JQD4sbnRXz4/s1600-h/Image97.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 160px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371013446722437346" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SomsRd-8wOI/AAAAAAAADAk/JQD4sbnRXz4/s200/Image97.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SomsRBkrPrI/AAAAAAAADAc/MRoPEL8T_yI/s1600-h/Image95.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 160px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371013439096045234" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SomsRBkrPrI/AAAAAAAADAc/MRoPEL8T_yI/s200/Image95.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SomsQtUIsEI/AAAAAAAADAU/DX2OwyOs5Kc/s1600-h/Image98.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 160px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371013433657962562" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SomsQtUIsEI/AAAAAAAADAU/DX2OwyOs5Kc/s200/Image98.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;No matter what the bad times are, one cry, one hell of heartbreaks will get you over it. Get back up and climb over to the other side of the wall and bring the smile and joy back on your face. I and you, we don't deserve to let go of things that have been hanging onto. I was torn but everything will be fine one day, if they aren't, means it's never over yet. I knew it, but I forgot all about the wisdom I could have put into my faith. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Now, I love it. Now, I love you and you can't break it on your own. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;You made it better, for this time being. Still..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-6548495213205564277?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/6548495213205564277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=6548495213205564277' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6548495213205564277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6548495213205564277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/08/tears-dry-on-their-own.html' title='Tears dry on their own'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SomsR24-d-I/AAAAAAAADAs/b_EK4UBKskQ/s72-c/Image104.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-5548358544741344097</id><published>2009-08-16T02:41:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T02:52:57.256+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The night has come</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SocCA69jpGI/AAAAAAAADAM/PEeGEnW9GHk/s1600-h/Image92.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370263295513306210" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SocCA69jpGI/AAAAAAAADAM/PEeGEnW9GHk/s320/Image92.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Why suddenly I have so much time to write now? It's because now, when I'm gone, nights are much more lonely and boring, nights at 1am onwards are nothing but TV, nicotine, laptop, facebook, twitter and other shits. When I'm in Singapore, my days are almost packed, even when I'm bored and don't go out, there'll always be something for me to do. Here, I have nothing much but laze around, enjoy myself and eat and yeah, with a maid, you will feel more a less have everything under your feet. It's not that I'd order my maid around but at least I don't have to wash the dishes and do my own laundry and iron stuff and blah blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been out late until 11ish to 12ish here. But for your information, Vietnam night life dies early so coming home at the time is considered late enough. The roads are close to empty around that time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't really sleep, even though it's almost 2 now and yeah, Singapore is almost 3 but I'm so awake now and drinking my Bailey's. Wtf am I doing man?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's sleeping, according to his brother when I give him a call at his house phone. So yeah, it's even more depressing. I've been not happily in love as I sounded before, obviously. However, I'm keeping my head up high and blah blah blahhhh....... *blank!*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok the topic is boring and I shall continue my drink and maybe I'll rokok a little. BYE!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-5548358544741344097?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/5548358544741344097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=5548358544741344097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5548358544741344097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5548358544741344097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/08/night-has-come.html' title='The night has come'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SocCA69jpGI/AAAAAAAADAM/PEeGEnW9GHk/s72-c/Image92.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-4805637766513206125</id><published>2009-08-15T03:07:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-15T03:22:04.524+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll get back up</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SoW3DcgoK1I/AAAAAAAADAE/KdYrgUDTpmY/s1600-h/Image51.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369899400529718098" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SoW3DcgoK1I/AAAAAAAADAE/KdYrgUDTpmY/s320/Image51.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Random:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish that guys would do the things we girls do, sometimes. For example: Check out song lyrics and know how the girls feel through those words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not a hassle, right? I don't know why this but yeah, as I listen to more songs and they evolve in me, I just wish sometimes others can feel it too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I'm so random, this is how I feeeeeeeeel...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I never thought I'd be in love like this&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;When I look at you my mind goes on a trip&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Then you came in and knocked me on my face&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Feels like I'm in a race but I already won first place&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I never thought I fall for you as hard as I did &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You got me thinking about our life, our house and kids &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Every morning I look at you and smile&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cause boy you came around and you knocked me down &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sometimes love comes around &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;and it knocks you down&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;just get back up&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;when it knocks you down&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sometimes love comes around&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;and it knocks you down&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;just get back up&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;when it knocks you down&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- To my love, if you could ever hear me sing, these are for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Happy Birthday, dearest. You know I love you. I'll keep hanging there, for you and for us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-4805637766513206125?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/4805637766513206125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=4805637766513206125' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4805637766513206125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4805637766513206125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/08/ill-get-back-up.html' title='I&apos;ll get back up'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SoW3DcgoK1I/AAAAAAAADAE/KdYrgUDTpmY/s72-c/Image51.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-1159662913250458871</id><published>2009-08-14T01:05:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T01:15:22.333+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Time like this..</title><content type='html'>Time like this, I know that I'm so fucking tired from everything that you're giving me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time like this, I'm so vulnerable and you just have to be complaining and making so many excuses. And I don't feel the way I used to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time like this, I look at you and there's something ain't quite right in those eyes and those words you're speaking. It's freaking me out but then yes, it hurts but to you, it doesn't even stink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You suck. You suck so much at time like this. You suck so bad that I thought I could just step over this and leave you hanging so you can have a taste of losing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've tasted it before, I've tasted it so many times before that perhaps this time, it might not hurt as much as before. And now that you suck, I wish you can feel the pain I felt. I wish that you can fucking your fucking eyes and look around to see and to feel if anyone else in the world gives a damn shit about you. Wake up! Wake up, boy! Knock some senses into you. I'm fucking here. Learn. Do grow up and learn before everything goes wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before it's too late and the light goes off, you should really see and give and take. I've put up for every single things that we've gone through, I've felt the lowest of shits we've been through, but at least I've learnt and now it's just so sad to learn that time like this, your feelings and mine aren't really one the same page. It's really sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so sad.&lt;br /&gt;So sad that now I'm so tired and feeling like giving up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For once, can't you just think? And look at me and look at us.. few months ago.. a year ago....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-1159662913250458871?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/1159662913250458871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=1159662913250458871' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/1159662913250458871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/1159662913250458871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/08/time-like-this.html' title='Time like this..'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-7243688803749623113</id><published>2009-08-08T17:19:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-08T17:33:47.260+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What the?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sn1Gbz6xLYI/AAAAAAAAC_8/13bs1japXnA/s1600-h/IMG_0228.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367523774502612354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sn1Gbz6xLYI/AAAAAAAAC_8/13bs1japXnA/s320/IMG_0228.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok first of all. It's Saturday and I still have not gone to SENTOSA! MADNESS MADNESS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, Blogger is very wtf wtf? -___- because I can't seem to upload pictures here! Motherfucker. But then pictures can be seen as my facebook profile and all that. I will try to upload more to multiply and stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been an exhausting week. Went to my class's chalet and of course those shits stuck around which are very sensitive topics to me. It comes to me that perhaps there's a lot more than just difference and gaps between me and my classmates, but obviously more personal things going on which then I shall not go on and talk about it. I have one very smart thing/choice/decision to do about it is: Not to care too much and shall not bother anymore! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andddd... when I come back from my holiday, when school is back and Diploma starts, I shall just go school and study and get my good grades and go home and find better things to do. Not to mention that of course I shouldn't let others bring me down because well sometimes I'm better much off them. HmMmmmm.. 8-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So blah blah.. after the chalet I went home and slept and went to Issac's birthday BBQ and Gwen made the best drinks? :D Talked and got closer to Luying and I was definitely having fun and camwhoring because she was pretty high. Hahaha. And then second round, everyone decided to head to Prince of Wales. A cool chill-out place with cheap drinks and groovy cool music and yes, angmohs are everywhere even though the place is located at Little India there. Hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall wait for the pictures and everything and maybe I can be depressed about not being so tanned and oh ohhh.. I forgot to say that I got my results! :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basic Economics - A&lt;br /&gt;Media Studies - B&lt;br /&gt;Advertising and Promotional Management - C&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it's easy as ABC and 123 and DoReMi. Whatever! I miss Michael Jackson. :(((((&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;URGH URHG URGH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*pooof*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-7243688803749623113?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/7243688803749623113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=7243688803749623113' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7243688803749623113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7243688803749623113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/08/what_08.html' title='What the?'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sn1Gbz6xLYI/AAAAAAAAC_8/13bs1japXnA/s72-c/IMG_0228.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-4614226307986163642</id><published>2009-08-03T02:22:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T02:29:43.683+08:00</updated><title type='text'>things to do before take-off!</title><content type='html'>1. I definitely am gonna go Sentosa and tan for sure!! Urgent urgent!&lt;div&gt;2. Clean this messy messy messy room.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Pack pack pack for the 2 weeks away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. uh uh uh... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fuck I had so much things in mind but now suddenly I forgot everything. Urgh &gt;.&lt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok never mind about it. I'm looking foward to my class chalet and meeting up with my friends and that's about it before my flight. It's still like next week so I shall just keep my mind of it and enjoy the time now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S. I miss dancing so much, like for a moment i thought i could burst and just go dance around like crazy. What's wrong with me ek?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-4614226307986163642?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/4614226307986163642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=4614226307986163642' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4614226307986163642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4614226307986163642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/08/things-to-do-before-take-off.html' title='things to do before take-off!'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-2394805018845576991</id><published>2009-07-29T07:14:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T07:41:06.109+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I just have to write some stuff.. for feed..</title><content type='html'>What is your morning about? Well.. mine?&lt;br /&gt;Breakfast?   NO&lt;br /&gt;Coffee?      Why not? *craving*&lt;br /&gt;Nicotine?    My lifeeeeeee..eeEeEe&lt;br /&gt;Sleep-in?    Oh I just got home!&lt;br /&gt;School?      Holiday Spins~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got home at like 7am or some? And while I was in the bus on my way home, the sky was turning bright and the darkness slowly blended in the darker blue and the clouds were so beautiful. What a calm and peaceful sight! I was somewhat dropping but still, I looked around the bus and saw so many students: JC students, Secondary kids and everyone getting ready for another busy weekday. I thought to myself that I should be the only bitch who's like going home from some gaming and sitting down at McDonald's till first bus; having nothing to do and rotting and thinking what the wise decision should be made. How ironic isn't it!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I'm still thinking if I should stay for my class chalet. I know it's definitely gonna be like so fun but the bad thing is that my mom is rushing me home for this 3 weeks holiday. URGH URGH URGH! I miss home a lot I guess. I miss my friends there, I miss Ashley and I miss Terry as well. AND.. I got an offline message from Rose that my VietQ uncle from the States is coming back too. HOW NICE AND GRAND! I'm thinking that if I fly back now, I can just act cool and trying to pretend like I'm having some sort of jet-lag, which obviously will be so lame and my family will just tell me off with this kind of face: -_____-|| Hahhaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I shall check the tix tomorrow and see whether if I should fly back earlier or not and then yeah.. Now, I shall try to go to sleep and have a good sleep and sweet dream about my good time with my family or with Syahmi maybe. (O.o)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh by the way, we are officially 1-year-1-day old now. Woohoo! I mean the relationship it is. How amazing huh?!?! But never mind about that for now. Till laters! Boyeeeee~&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;p.s. Pictures might be uploaded if i'm like nice to myself. MIGHT!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-2394805018845576991?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/2394805018845576991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=2394805018845576991' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/2394805018845576991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/2394805018845576991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-just-have-to-write-some-stuff-for.html' title='I just have to write some stuff.. for feed..'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-6784802696749874236</id><published>2009-07-27T01:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T01:24:00.220+08:00</updated><title type='text'>TUESDAY TUESDAY TUESDAY!</title><content type='html'>This tuesday is going to be our first anniversary and I wish I could be the happiest girl on Earth like somewhat I am now. *finger crossed and roll eyes* :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, I love my iTouch that Mama bought me like I've mentioned! Woohoo. Instead of getting a Macbook, I decided that my laptop can still be fixed and having a good mp3 like iTouch is more less perfect for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And and, I'm going to fly back to Vietnam about in a couple of weeks for my holiday and I've got to miss Bf's birthday which sucks and sucks and moreeeeee 'sucks's. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And and and, I'm still thinking if I should go for my class chalet because Mama is bugging me to go back as soon as poissible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD WE'RE MOVING OUT SOON! New home awaits me at Vietnam. Ahhh~ I bet it's gonna be better at District 7. I WANT A MOTORBIKE TOOOOO!!! Sw-eeeetttttt! :DDDD&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-6784802696749874236?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/6784802696749874236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=6784802696749874236' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6784802696749874236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6784802696749874236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/07/tuesday-tuesday-tuesday.html' title='TUESDAY TUESDAY TUESDAY!'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-4581758466213849200</id><published>2009-07-18T23:36:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T23:41:37.868+08:00</updated><title type='text'>bz!</title><content type='html'>Well yes, busy people don't have much time to blog. As much as I love to blog and keep things updated, I have no time for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I study hard and party hard too. Hence, I'm getting rotten and gaining weight. FOR NOW, FATS are happy. But I'm finishing my Professional Certicate course real soon and all the time for me to get back healthy and fit. (No excuses anymore! &gt;.&lt; )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yeah, beer belly sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I don't know what to blog much. Life been too hectic and happening to even start with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. My mom might get me a Macbook Pro, and I truly want an iTouch as well. God, I love my mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bye!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-4581758466213849200?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/4581758466213849200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=4581758466213849200' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4581758466213849200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4581758466213849200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/07/bz.html' title='bz!'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-963882115564173395</id><published>2009-06-27T23:03:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T23:12:03.675+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fuck the bitch, screw the asshole</title><content type='html'>First, I'm tired of hearing the stupid 'white lies', because if I myself didn't see it, I would be left in the dark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, June was a brilliant month and it just has be messed up. (eventually)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Third, he just has to be telling someone else about me and what I do. So fuck you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fourth, I am so pissed that I don't know what I even want to say him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fifth, what else? ouhh.. he &lt;em&gt;wanted to&lt;/em&gt;, but just because I'm in Singapore.. so &lt;em&gt;you know&lt;/em&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sixth, I shall not stay here any further after my dip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seventh, everything can go back to zero. And I shall cry a river and not seeing him like that. I hate it and I'm disgusted by it. I fucking hate it and I wanna get this over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eighth, he can always go back to who he was and I shall fuck off from his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nineth, I'm so hurt that right now, I'm becoming heartless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tenth, I can't still believe it. I really can't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-963882115564173395?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/963882115564173395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=963882115564173395' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/963882115564173395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/963882115564173395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/06/fuck-bitch-screw-asshole.html' title='Fuck the bitch, screw the asshole'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-7160781907651786163</id><published>2009-06-24T01:54:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T02:08:10.257+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm not giving up</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350584145604318066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SkEX7ouVE3I/AAAAAAAAC_s/nagbp76wUeE/s320/4188_101203656387_734651387_2583934_7518583_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SkEYamwkjtI/AAAAAAAAC_0/VNgQWPzzewE/s1600-h/DSCN7751.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350584677652795090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SkEYamwkjtI/AAAAAAAAC_0/VNgQWPzzewE/s320/DSCN7751.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, suddenly I miss home so badly. I miss Mom and I miss Rose, I miss Syahmi. I miss my friends at Vietnam. I miss home and I wish I could cry everything out of me so I won't feel sad anymore and I won't feel any fear. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been so busy with school as per usual and I've done two projects within 2 days with Gwen and I'm so proud of myself. And yes, I got A for my Basic Econs test. I feel really good, it's like I'm not letting my mom down that she's paying a big sum to send me to study here. I know that there are things that she's worried because I'm sick now and swine flu has been around, freaking the crab out of everyone. I'm paranoid myself too. Like I can just get it now and die or whatsoever. Yes I am scared. I am scared to leave things behind me and leave them all hanging. The thought of it can kill me so damn badly but now as I am writing this, I wanna be stronger than just who I am now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm gonna kick ass for my Media Studies and APM projects. I have to get all this in a right order.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm gonna go for check-up so everyone will be at an ease at their minds.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm gonna call bf after this and cry on the phone. :(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm gonna think of my family every minute of tonight. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm gonna be stronger, stronger, stronger than this... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;P.S. I love you, Mom, Rose. And yes baby, I love you as well. From day one since we are together, I love you more and now, you've become to be a part of my life more than what you think you are to me.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-7160781907651786163?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/7160781907651786163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=7160781907651786163' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7160781907651786163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7160781907651786163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/06/im-not-giving-up.html' title='I&apos;m not giving up'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SkEX7ouVE3I/AAAAAAAAC_s/nagbp76wUeE/s72-c/4188_101203656387_734651387_2583934_7518583_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-3098392494997264833</id><published>2009-06-15T00:02:00.009+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T00:41:37.750+08:00</updated><title type='text'>you! Me! DancEing!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUkQ8WLnvI/AAAAAAAAC_U/7KZ6_zJBoV8/s1600-h/4712_99946131630_525941630_2449557_4040639_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347220006068002546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUkQ8WLnvI/AAAAAAAAC_U/7KZ6_zJBoV8/s320/4712_99946131630_525941630_2449557_4040639_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUkQmtSLKI/AAAAAAAAC_M/RkAn1OfbjiM/s1600-h/4712_99946081630_525941630_2449550_1255087_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347220000259320994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUkQmtSLKI/AAAAAAAAC_M/RkAn1OfbjiM/s320/4712_99946081630_525941630_2449550_1255087_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUkQcapEwI/AAAAAAAAC_E/SjJFaP7I7lY/s1600-h/4712_99946351630_525941630_2449594_8348859_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347219997496775426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUkQcapEwI/AAAAAAAAC_E/SjJFaP7I7lY/s320/4712_99946351630_525941630_2449594_8348859_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUkQI3eOuI/AAAAAAAAC-8/5YcIZJuv2pE/s1600-h/4712_99946336630_525941630_2449591_6358161_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347219992248990434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUkQI3eOuI/AAAAAAAAC-8/5YcIZJuv2pE/s320/4712_99946336630_525941630_2449591_6358161_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUkQODZyOI/AAAAAAAAC-0/FEmNxFra-Ug/s1600-h/4712_99946341630_525941630_2449592_443892_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347219993641208034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUkQODZyOI/AAAAAAAAC-0/FEmNxFra-Ug/s320/4712_99946341630_525941630_2449592_443892_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUj3JWBg2I/AAAAAAAAC-s/lJPk8N7xF2k/s1600-h/4712_99946346630_525941630_2449593_3908369_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347219562880402274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUj3JWBg2I/AAAAAAAAC-s/lJPk8N7xF2k/s320/4712_99946346630_525941630_2449593_3908369_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUj20RBUpI/AAAAAAAAC-k/b_JDU1ygXXk/s1600-h/4712_99946331630_525941630_2449590_4848820_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347219557222273682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUj20RBUpI/AAAAAAAAC-k/b_JDU1ygXXk/s320/4712_99946331630_525941630_2449590_4848820_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUj26hHY1I/AAAAAAAAC-c/a5tN49rm744/s1600-h/4712_99946321630_525941630_2449588_716712_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347219558900392786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUj26hHY1I/AAAAAAAAC-c/a5tN49rm744/s320/4712_99946321630_525941630_2449588_716712_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUj2fDPIKI/AAAAAAAAC-U/W7NeqvEHK9A/s1600-h/4712_99946311630_525941630_2449586_5201776_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347219551527313570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUj2fDPIKI/AAAAAAAAC-U/W7NeqvEHK9A/s320/4712_99946311630_525941630_2449586_5201776_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUj2bLOM9I/AAAAAAAAC-M/x-gHfjJbTsE/s1600-h/4712_99946316630_525941630_2449587_399919_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347219550487065554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUj2bLOM9I/AAAAAAAAC-M/x-gHfjJbTsE/s320/4712_99946316630_525941630_2449587_399919_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUjf-TcT5I/AAAAAAAAC-E/qEIHjIgStBw/s1600-h/4712_99946306630_525941630_2449585_1553902_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347219164779794322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUjf-TcT5I/AAAAAAAAC-E/qEIHjIgStBw/s320/4712_99946306630_525941630_2449585_1553902_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUjfsuhW5I/AAAAAAAAC98/P0QirCCiYT0/s1600-h/4712_99946301630_525941630_2449584_8093329_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347219160061533074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUjfsuhW5I/AAAAAAAAC98/P0QirCCiYT0/s320/4712_99946301630_525941630_2449584_8093329_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUjfQU-wXI/AAAAAAAAC90/JYXqwG40wwE/s1600-h/4712_99946296630_525941630_2449583_1746765_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347219152438215026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUjfQU-wXI/AAAAAAAAC90/JYXqwG40wwE/s320/4712_99946296630_525941630_2449583_1746765_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUjfQcF67I/AAAAAAAAC9s/NdTDhhDM4WU/s1600-h/4712_99946291630_525941630_2449582_8348034_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347219152468044722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUjfQcF67I/AAAAAAAAC9s/NdTDhhDM4WU/s320/4712_99946291630_525941630_2449582_8348034_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUi5f10YKI/AAAAAAAAC9c/z2MtFQLK3VM/s1600-h/4712_99946256630_525941630_2449576_4545542_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347218503767449762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUi5f10YKI/AAAAAAAAC9c/z2MtFQLK3VM/s320/4712_99946256630_525941630_2449576_4545542_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUi5LFXTRI/AAAAAAAAC9U/l-KaZFq4GS0/s1600-h/4712_99946266630_525941630_2449578_4359297_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347218498195508498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUi5LFXTRI/AAAAAAAAC9U/l-KaZFq4GS0/s320/4712_99946266630_525941630_2449578_4359297_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUi45mQeqI/AAAAAAAAC9M/Dg2OVkaLxlY/s1600-h/4712_99946186630_525941630_2449563_4478549_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347218493501635234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUi45mQeqI/AAAAAAAAC9M/Dg2OVkaLxlY/s320/4712_99946186630_525941630_2449563_4478549_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUi457p8yI/AAAAAAAAC9E/tYroIpQVKp8/s1600-h/4712_99946156630_525941630_2449560_6595276_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347218493591384866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUi457p8yI/AAAAAAAAC9E/tYroIpQVKp8/s320/4712_99946156630_525941630_2449560_6595276_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUi4pMGlXI/AAAAAAAAC88/0rH9TUW4g7I/s1600-h/4712_99946096630_525941630_2449553_190193_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347218489096967538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUi4pMGlXI/AAAAAAAAC88/0rH9TUW4g7I/s320/4712_99946096630_525941630_2449553_190193_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUihQuIEnI/AAAAAAAAC80/bTm7kj7fxWI/s1600-h/4712_99946166630_525941630_2449561_1490500_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347218087391793778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUihQuIEnI/AAAAAAAAC80/bTm7kj7fxWI/s320/4712_99946166630_525941630_2449561_1490500_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUihDAw_MI/AAAAAAAAC8s/rtTlnfHnZy8/s1600-h/4712_99946201630_525941630_2449566_8327403_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347218083711876290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUihDAw_MI/AAAAAAAAC8s/rtTlnfHnZy8/s320/4712_99946201630_525941630_2449566_8327403_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUig1xaQoI/AAAAAAAAC8k/hjVyCQtz85Y/s1600-h/4712_99946071630_525941630_2449548_2236430_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347218080157811330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUig1xaQoI/AAAAAAAAC8k/hjVyCQtz85Y/s320/4712_99946071630_525941630_2449548_2236430_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUiguaEe0I/AAAAAAAAC8c/H5ogXgWMgRo/s1600-h/4712_99946056630_525941630_2449545_8110215_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347218078180866882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUiguaEe0I/AAAAAAAAC8c/H5ogXgWMgRo/s320/4712_99946056630_525941630_2449545_8110215_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUigjBdrDI/AAAAAAAAC8U/YHJad4ICpLU/s1600-h/4712_99946036630_525941630_2449541_3244795_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347218075124870194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUigjBdrDI/AAAAAAAAC8U/YHJad4ICpLU/s320/4712_99946036630_525941630_2449541_3244795_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUiRJXjiyI/AAAAAAAAC8M/NaPwPR64uyU/s1600-h/4712_99945986630_525941630_2449531_57645_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347217810540170018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUiRJXjiyI/AAAAAAAAC8M/NaPwPR64uyU/s320/4712_99945986630_525941630_2449531_57645_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUiRMhbwJI/AAAAAAAAC8E/n01rcC4pzEc/s1600-h/4712_99945926630_525941630_2449520_3805476_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347217811386908818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUiRMhbwJI/AAAAAAAAC8E/n01rcC4pzEc/s320/4712_99945926630_525941630_2449520_3805476_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUiQ1cdlRI/AAAAAAAAC78/htN4YktVtZo/s1600-h/4712_99945961630_525941630_2449527_1794768_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347217805192041746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUiQ1cdlRI/AAAAAAAAC78/htN4YktVtZo/s320/4712_99945961630_525941630_2449527_1794768_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUiQyyY1sI/AAAAAAAAC70/cYsxWns26BM/s1600-h/4712_99945936630_525941630_2449522_5042062_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347217804478699202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUiQyyY1sI/AAAAAAAAC70/cYsxWns26BM/s320/4712_99945936630_525941630_2449522_5042062_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUiQnMZVgI/AAAAAAAAC7s/YYuM-Lz3f9k/s1600-h/4712_99945916630_525941630_2449518_1740489_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347217801366558210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUiQnMZVgI/AAAAAAAAC7s/YYuM-Lz3f9k/s320/4712_99945916630_525941630_2449518_1740489_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's been a hectic week and a week before. Finally I'm like less depressed than the last time I sounded 'cause Mama has given up my so-called allowance which I don't know how long I'm supposed to last along with that amount. However, it's better now that I don't feel that penniless anymore. Phewww. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So yeah.. There were only 3 lessons for the whole last week so I turned up for only 3 days but from tomorrow onwards it's gonna be back-to-fulltime-a-week. Urgh. And not to forget that I have a test coming this week also, and the ironic part is that I still don't know what is coming out for the test. And and and! It's Economics for God's sake. Pfft. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have 2 assignments for Media Studies and APM (Advertising &amp;amp; Promotional Management) which will be due like in the next two weeks. Another pfft. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I doubt i'll be slacking off 'cause at this point, it's getting more loaded with school so I don't wanna see myself playing around and all that. So cheers to that is.. I will give myself a shopping spree and a few days to go out and have fun. ONLY A FEW DAYS!!! *fingers crossed and eyes rolling* Hehs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Soooo... Zouk and O Bar had been a blast. Keeps me wanting for more and give me a peace at my mind. Yeah, maybe it's just the process of growing. Oh wellssss..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got a mail from Mama and she wants at Melbourne. BUT THEN... before that, she wants me to study in Vietnam for one year. &gt;.&lt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You figure! Sayyyy.... I don't want it! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S. Enjoy the pictures! (Totally not in sequence or order, the ones at O Bar shall be updated or no. I'm lazy!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;BTW, I LOVE MY CLASSMATES! Ahhhhh~ :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-3098392494997264833?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/3098392494997264833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=3098392494997264833' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/3098392494997264833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/3098392494997264833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/06/you-me-danceing.html' title='you! Me! DancEing!'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SjUkQ8WLnvI/AAAAAAAAC_U/7KZ6_zJBoV8/s72-c/4712_99946131630_525941630_2449557_4040639_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-6999732214011072386</id><published>2009-06-08T02:17:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T02:42:38.715+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What the wind says when she cries?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SiwE6QpKoGI/AAAAAAAAC68/-LiHu9v7Ek0/s1600-h/DSCF0753.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344652256728490082" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SiwE6QpKoGI/AAAAAAAAC68/-LiHu9v7Ek0/s200/DSCF0753.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Listening to: Someday we'll know &lt;div&gt;Feeling: Tired. Bored. Sleepy. Lonely.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thinking: What tomorrow awaits me when I wake up tomorrow?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Notes: I have so much dashing to me right now and I hate it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate this feeling. Hate feeling lonely and tongue-tied in the room. Hate looking at the four still walls without a way out. Hate not having him besides me at times like this. Hate the songs that remind me of the emotional side of me. Yes, all those things aren't the things i need at this point.&lt;br /&gt; It's been awhile to actually feel like crying again. It's ironically funny that at this period of time, I thought I am letting myself to see the world in a wider view and give myself wings to be free, to enjoy the ride I'm taking right now. I thought I am a very happy person; assumption: the barriers don't get me in any way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I miss something in my life. I miss feeling loved. And tonight I miss it and I need it. I still miss home. I miss my mom and I miss Rose. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am so afraid. I really am. I'm afraid of tonight of being lonely, knowing i have to get through alone, knowing that i really need somebody. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;God.. I need Tequila shotsssssss!!! :(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-6999732214011072386?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/6999732214011072386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=6999732214011072386' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6999732214011072386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6999732214011072386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/06/what-wind-says-when-she-cries.html' title='What the wind says when she cries?'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SiwE6QpKoGI/AAAAAAAAC68/-LiHu9v7Ek0/s72-c/DSCF0753.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-2131951973813517369</id><published>2009-06-05T19:45:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T02:41:17.999+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Update update update!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SikIX_Yt8LI/AAAAAAAAC60/PtHH3uxYjcs/s1600-h/P1010309.jpgE.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343811641096925362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SikIX_Yt8LI/AAAAAAAAC60/PtHH3uxYjcs/s320/P1010309.jpgE.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, it's been almost a month since I actually sat myself down and blogged about anything in the world. I've been busy with school and other things that even at times when I thought I'd want to blog, I'd end up so terribly exhausted or have no time at all to do that by the end of the day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There were couples of things happening for the pass weeks that I didn't mention in my blog since the last update. Well I went back home for Rose's graduation and meeting old good friends for like 3 or 4 days just right before my 2 papers, Communications and Marketing. Now I'll just keep my fingers crossed and wait for my results to be mailed in. Boohoo. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had finally suntan and I love my new tan. I miss all that so much and maybe for the fact that I had a maxi summer dress, it made me feel like the same old person again, like 2 years ago or so? :P&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Things've been good with Bf but unfortunately he'll be going to NS in few months time. And the saddest part is that, it had to be on my birthday. Like exact date if you know what I mean. :(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm staying at Toa Payoh now with Alicia and waiting for her old tenant to move out so I'll get the room to myself as I'm sharing her room at the moment. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hmm... At this period of my life, like RIGHT NOW: I HAVE NO MONEY AND I AM BROKE BROKE BROKE! :( Like sadly desperately depressedly broke. Yes, I am suffering from depression already I guess. Haiz haiz haiz. I texted Mama to ask her if I could withdraw like 50 bucks to survive by next allowance comes in but then she replied me saying that she's sick and almost having high blood pressure. Another sigh. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm truly truly worried and missing home. I almost felt like crying when I think about her and actually it helps alot to motivate me in class when I think of her and everything she's doing for me to get me to where I am now. Today I had like 6 hours of Basic Economics and I almost not wanted to go school and dragged myself to school at 12 o'clock under the hot sun, but then yeah.. I pushed myself and in class, surprisingly I didn't fall asleep or give up. I basically find the 'push' factor in doing well and give my bestest for school to make my mom proud. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What I'm planning to do now is to get her an e-Card and send her message that I miss her and all I wish or is for her to feel better. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's a friday night and yes.. here i ammmm.. broke and sad and depressed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;and I miss home........ :( &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-2131951973813517369?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/2131951973813517369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=2131951973813517369' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/2131951973813517369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/2131951973813517369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/06/update-update-update.html' title='Update update update!'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SikIX_Yt8LI/AAAAAAAAC60/PtHH3uxYjcs/s72-c/P1010309.jpgE.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-4099067521199086348</id><published>2009-05-10T00:36:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T00:50:47.434+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ever since..</title><content type='html'>I've been so busy. Like very very busy, not that school has been making me engrossing in it like before, but it's more of the things that I promised myself to complete. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First, I just wanna say that I am truly happy and proud of myself and that Mama is definitely happy about this.. which is that uh.. I got an A for my very first Marketing test. :D Of course getting an A is like no big deal to others, but the reasons I'm proud of myself is that there were only 3 As in the class. So yeah.. :DDDD&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was stuck in some shit regarding my Presentation next week about Abortion which stressed me out a little. I had been running errands of my student pass and medical check-ups and then I have to settle my payment. All sort of payment!!! I had deposited half of my allowance for my Student Pass which I had to go to ICA on Monday at 2pm WHICH I will be having school from 8:30am-6:30pm! I'm having 2 workshops to attend and followed by lecture at 3:30 like usual. I'm planning to skip my second workshop about Ethics and Values 'cause I've got to go for my appointment which sucked big time. Why? 'Cause I postponed it, but now that it's postponed, it just has to be in the day that I'm running mad like a fat pig. Boohoo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I definitely slacked off a little bit ever since the test. Been going off for rokok break every 20 or 25 minutes which is really bad. No good no good!?! I will focus myself back next week 'cause yeah.. next week is the last week before we have the Study week for exams! WHICH SUCKS AGAIN BECAUSE EXAMS ARE IN 2 WEEKS! :( &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I miss bf. He's working graveyard today until 7AM which also sucks sucks sucks. And I won't ever stop complaining. Like seriously.... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;By the way, I've started jogging back already. And I almost lost my way around Toa Payoh just now when I was going for my 2nd run of the year. Pathetic like shit. It was like 11:20 like that when I started to realise that the route seemed stranger than the previous route I took last two days. So i walked and walked around the loop which ended up at the same place twice and I got so scared. I thought i was being mazed by some magical shithead like that. Hahhahaa. But then pheww.. i found mysef back in the Comfort Zone yo and bought the Sports water and that's almost all about it. I took like 45 minutes for that run and yeah.. my 25 minutes were gone because I was just walking about to find a way of from Lor7 or Lor8 or whatever shits. URGH! &gt;.&lt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now is so late and i'm so hungry hungry! I need to buy new Marl already. Wee! Fresh Mint totally rocks it, like seriously...... hahahha. lalalalal~ Ok i think i will walk down and find some pie to munch for tonight and then watch something online then. Boohoo. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I miss Mama and Rose. If i'm not wrong, is it Mother's Day now or yesterday or Sunday? :(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-4099067521199086348?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/4099067521199086348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=4099067521199086348' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4099067521199086348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4099067521199086348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/05/ever-since.html' title='Ever since..'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-3103090137390726900</id><published>2009-05-02T00:20:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-05-02T00:32:19.333+08:00</updated><title type='text'>no regrets for this..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SfsiUIzktCI/AAAAAAAAC6s/79UPdEsZn4o/s1600-h/4179_167560010042_759875042_6663212_6341492_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330892313279640610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SfsiUIzktCI/AAAAAAAAC6s/79UPdEsZn4o/s320/4179_167560010042_759875042_6663212_6341492_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330891750232677570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SfshzXSt3MI/AAAAAAAAC6k/93XDYq_0ohw/s320/4179_167559995042_759875042_6663211_4656175_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SfshzMTE9iI/AAAAAAAAC6c/bl9EqGC61-g/s1600-h/4179_167576180042_759875042_6663562_1963515_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330891747281401378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SfshzMTE9iI/AAAAAAAAC6c/bl9EqGC61-g/s320/4179_167576180042_759875042_6663562_1963515_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sfshy4czhaI/AAAAAAAAC6U/LxrfevHwIWo/s1600-h/4179_167576185042_759875042_6663563_1463423_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330891741953492386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sfshy4czhaI/AAAAAAAAC6U/LxrfevHwIWo/s320/4179_167576185042_759875042_6663563_1463423_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330891743873215122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sfshy_mgKpI/AAAAAAAAC6M/vmjK5WSzc2s/s320/4179_167576200042_759875042_6663565_129976_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sfshy110U3I/AAAAAAAAC6E/yTiduXKC76M/s1600-h/4179_167576195042_759875042_6663564_4065468_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330891741253096306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sfshy110U3I/AAAAAAAAC6E/yTiduXKC76M/s320/4179_167576195042_759875042_6663564_4065468_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://trosaa.multiply.com/photos/album/9"&gt;More pictures!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Like I promised, the pictures are up at my multiply and i've decided to make a quick entry before heading to bed or smth. I'm fucked exhausted like a sick pig with Swine flu. ah fakeeeee..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alright, everything is really cool and i love the way things are right now. My class is perfect and yes, mass comm people rock please. A stand-up for every single one of us who sat down and cheered for like 5 or 6 towers? or 7? i don't kno but yeah.. i know i was high after that. Hahaha, i know for one thing i vomitted after getting out from the bus though. Fucking hell. One advice: Don't ever sleep when you're high. Possibility to puke is 99.9%! Bloody hell.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Test is on monday and tmr some of us might be going out to study. And one thing that i'm not ashamed of is that we are the type who knows when to have fun and when to get serious and stay focused. So what if MDIS ain't no Poly or whatever, i'm glad that everyone of us gives no shit about it and yeah.. we rock big time. Hahhaha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;:D &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cb this class ah. hahahah fuckign happening. 2nd week only siolzZzZ. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;lalalala~&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-3103090137390726900?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/3103090137390726900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=3103090137390726900' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/3103090137390726900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/3103090137390726900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/05/no-regrets-for-this.html' title='no regrets for this..'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SfsiUIzktCI/AAAAAAAAC6s/79UPdEsZn4o/s72-c/4179_167560010042_759875042_6663212_6341492_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-5382918389230090830</id><published>2009-05-01T13:30:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T13:35:07.673+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday'S Blast</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was SUPERB!!!! The pictures will be uploaded as soon as i get the pictures from Fiona.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was like class outing after school. We had burger king cineleisure and then headed to Cascadan for like TOWERS AND TOWERS of beer. ahhh sial la..shiok to the max! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so yeah.. i just got home awhile ago cos i slept over at bf's place yesterday after the drinking session. i shall add more details and blog more about it when i have the pictures..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;weeyaywee!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-5382918389230090830?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/5382918389230090830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=5382918389230090830' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5382918389230090830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5382918389230090830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/05/thursdays-blast.html' title='Thursday&apos;S Blast'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-3427285357116798678</id><published>2009-04-29T23:30:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T23:53:43.966+08:00</updated><title type='text'>too busy for nuts</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sfh2ywhku-I/AAAAAAAAC58/r9PAOg9pHfo/s1600-h/IMG-9318.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330140773384240098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sfh2ywhku-I/AAAAAAAAC58/r9PAOg9pHfo/s320/IMG-9318.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sfh2j_KryOI/AAAAAAAAC50/3YtVi47SNzA/s1600-h/IMG-9316.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wont be blogging a lot. i'm very sure of that. because i'm busy with school and other stuff, and most of the times i'm out wandering about in singapore for stupid reasons and good reasons. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i'm so tired. and ahh.. staircase is gooood! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;tmr is like my class outing? hahaha.. eating and might be going for movies or whatsoever. they thought of clubbing though. but me? hahahah i act cool onlyyyyyyyyyyyy! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ahhh i love MDIS! 8-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;THINK SUCCESS! THINK MDIS! all over dobby mrt and bus stops. hahahahhahaha... what a crap shit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;p.s. anyone has extra phone, please be generous :( &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;im just random, and i wanted to update abit, that's about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-3427285357116798678?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/3427285357116798678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=3427285357116798678' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/3427285357116798678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/3427285357116798678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/04/too-busy-for-nuts.html' title='too busy for nuts'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sfh2ywhku-I/AAAAAAAAC58/r9PAOg9pHfo/s72-c/IMG-9318.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-4382118399613433194</id><published>2009-04-25T23:42:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T00:10:17.341+08:00</updated><title type='text'>First week</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SfMw17n43JI/AAAAAAAAC5s/oqNqV9dEmlU/s1600-h/DSCN9108.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SfMw17n43JI/AAAAAAAAC5s/oqNqV9dEmlU/s320/DSCN9108.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328656487205624978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Been so hectic. The whole week was obviously sticked by Bf all the time like clue, irritating right. hahahaha. no ahh. hehe.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;School was pretty much okay, except for Communication Skills classes which suck and bore us big time. Made new friends with Jelly and Pei Zi and yeah somehow we 3 rokoked in the handicap toilet and sial la.. fun like shit sia. hahahha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hmm.. there are couples of things which i will be getting it done soon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Piercing&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tongue-piercing? eh? yay!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Suntanning&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Jogging and exercises&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;and some other things.........&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ANDDDDDD YEAH, LAST BUT NOT LEAST: I LOST MY HANDPHONE!!!!!!!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I need a new handphone! :( like duh? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've had my shopping spree! Finally -___- and got shorts and dress and slippers and shades! ahhhhh my 70bucks gone just in less than an hour. stop it sia. hahahaha. ok dah.. after this, i'll be doing pictures updating and stuff. Get my pictures at Nad's shits. hahaha. and then redoing my wishlist and wantlish and needlist or whatever it is. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love my bf! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-4382118399613433194?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/4382118399613433194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=4382118399613433194' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4382118399613433194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4382118399613433194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/04/first-week.html' title='First week'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SfMw17n43JI/AAAAAAAAC5s/oqNqV9dEmlU/s72-c/DSCN9108.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-1401232784291630791</id><published>2009-04-20T01:22:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T01:27:49.821+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Singapore here i go..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SetfCmfeRhI/AAAAAAAAC5k/CcBkrQ9EGxY/s1600-h/003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SetfCmfeRhI/AAAAAAAAC5k/CcBkrQ9EGxY/s320/003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326455482592675346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Ok ah.. seriously, i feel like an idiot. Tmr school start but i still don't know what time should i ever be there and where is my class and all those shits. Quite fun sia when im thinking about it now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, just for the information. I'm currently back to singapore alrdy. Quite a yay! though, but nvm. I just wanna say something here before bf calls and yeah.. i will feel so excited later all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I miss all this alot actually. All of the things i used to do and the ppl i know and once cared so much for. It's gonna be a new start again, but i hope whatever that is here will remain here for as long as possible. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOVE LOVE LOVE ah sial.. :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-1401232784291630791?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/1401232784291630791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=1401232784291630791' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/1401232784291630791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/1401232784291630791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/04/singapore-here-i-go.html' title='Singapore here i go..'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SetfCmfeRhI/AAAAAAAAC5k/CcBkrQ9EGxY/s72-c/003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-3144235585369093062</id><published>2009-04-14T00:05:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T00:15:47.156+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Walking on the wall</title><content type='html'>I had already rebonded my hair like I promised myself to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had already gotten new bras and undies as my farewell presents from my aunt. Well it's cos she asked me what I want so she would get it for me and so i thought maybe she can buy new lingeries.&lt;br /&gt;I had already did my pedicure but i still wanna do manicure and repolish my nails. Bloody hell the girl just now she polished it too many times and now it's like so sticky and thick. Urgh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had already felt bad enough about the way I'm treated because i have my own limits for my tolerance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had already been keeping up my efforts into this relationship and for the very first time i feel so insulted and looked at him as a selfish person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the worse part is "i think 'whatever u do is cute' makes senses" doesn't make no sense to me. And, i fucking hate it when it had to happen when i was too tired from everything, especially when it was the time i fucking cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sucks. and seriously, where is that presence now?&lt;br /&gt;yeah go on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-3144235585369093062?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/3144235585369093062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=3144235585369093062' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/3144235585369093062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/3144235585369093062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/04/walking-on-wall.html' title='Walking on the wall'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-7396507739544158986</id><published>2009-04-12T01:05:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T01:32:24.040+08:00</updated><title type='text'>How envious..</title><content type='html'>current: just waiting for something.&lt;br /&gt;listening: you found me - the fray&lt;br /&gt;thinking: when is the next move?&lt;br /&gt;mood: pumped-way feelings.&lt;br /&gt;notes: i want pictures taken earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will definitely upload pictures as soon as i get them from Ashley. I had a day to keep my mind off feeling like a pathetic person actually. I had a sum of fun shopping with Ashley and eating with the gang and then went to Bud's for chocolate fondue. A long walk until Ben Thanh flea market and blah blah.. was fucked exhausted by the time we got in the cab. In a good note that today turned out good and a bad note: i had 600k and i spent 500k in one day. Good luck for all the time surviving here until i fly. Bloody hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm having all these fucked emotions and i hate myself for this. 'cause it feels like you're losing something which you find it meaningful to you. and somehow you'd think to yourself that maybe you just don't matter anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sad.&lt;br /&gt;I'm happy.&lt;br /&gt;I'm lonely.&lt;br /&gt;I'm thankful.&lt;br /&gt;I'm jealous.&lt;br /&gt;I'm blessed.&lt;br /&gt;I'm scared.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not brave enough.&lt;br /&gt;I'm strong.&lt;br /&gt;I'm weak.&lt;br /&gt;I'm unsecured.&lt;br /&gt;I'm vulnerable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm just not feeling this anymore&lt;/span&gt;, I told myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as i look at the faces of my friends and the people i know.. a sea and tens miles apart, but i don't think they really remember who i really am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as i look at the face i love for all this while, i wonder..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;where were you? when everything was falling apart?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all my days, were spent by the telephone..it never rang&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and i needed was a call..it never came&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;to the corner of First and Amistad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;chey.. a song made everything so feeelingggg...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm feeling like i need a cigarette.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-7396507739544158986?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/7396507739544158986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=7396507739544158986' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7396507739544158986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7396507739544158986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/04/how-envious.html' title='How envious..'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-6816822058034351450</id><published>2009-04-09T18:04:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T18:05:54.913+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Come in, come out, come in, come out tonight</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3GHlyonnI/AAAAAAAAC5U/pheCrqjuwJo/s1600-h/DSCN9041.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3GHlyonnI/AAAAAAAAC5U/pheCrqjuwJo/s200/DSCN9041.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322628168327667314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;listening: the shock of the lightning - oasis&lt;br /&gt;currently: uploading pictures and watching tv.&lt;br /&gt;thoughts: american idol is up next!&lt;br /&gt;feeling: pretty happy?&lt;br /&gt;notes: boyfriend is really sweet and loving :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm digging Oasis's new song and it's nice! Uh i just wanted to upload some pictures of last sunday when we had the 2nd round of boozing at Ashley's house. There are my so-called brother, Terry, my quite-recently-new younger brother, Chester and of course Ashley, Emily and Kenry. We had a real good time talking and of course some were almost drunk and stuff but I wasn't. Duh? But come to think of it, as soon as i leave this place, i will miss of them so much. Somehow the bond has been evolving in me pretty much. I'm happy as i've got such company while i'm hating my life at vn. Urgh urgh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still want to shop and i still want that copper lee shoes and i'm scared it's gone and the sale might be over! boohoo. Urgh. But then i hope bf has got my stuff over there already! Yay! awww.. hahha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School's starting soon and should i be nervous? well perhaps i have some reasons for it but i shall not my mind into the damp 'cause until i'm there, i really wanna have good fun and good times with my friends. :S&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anw, here are the photos. Ok i'm watching tv now. Bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3Drp6mhOI/AAAAAAAAC4k/SFwsMZ6tNNQ/s1600-h/DSCN9072.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3Drp6mhOI/AAAAAAAAC4k/SFwsMZ6tNNQ/s320/DSCN9072.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322625489375233250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3DrC_bIdI/AAAAAAAAC4c/SiaEnl55p0I/s1600-h/DSCN9069.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3DrC_bIdI/AAAAAAAAC4c/SiaEnl55p0I/s320/DSCN9069.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322625478926475730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3DQ8CP6xI/AAAAAAAAC4U/GTl6IavAkfg/s1600-h/DSCN9068.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3DQ8CP6xI/AAAAAAAAC4U/GTl6IavAkfg/s1600-h/DSCN9068.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3DQ8CP6xI/AAAAAAAAC4U/GTl6IavAkfg/s320/DSCN9068.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322625030382676754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3DQs-1EjI/AAAAAAAAC4M/5O0fl5Ji_Og/s1600-h/DSCN9066.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3DQs-1EjI/AAAAAAAAC4M/5O0fl5Ji_Og/s320/DSCN9066.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322625026341802546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3DQH6ib7I/AAAAAAAAC4E/XBIzrzvdYqs/s1600-h/DSCN9065.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3DQH6ib7I/AAAAAAAAC4E/XBIzrzvdYqs/s320/DSCN9065.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322625016391692210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3DQKGnE9I/AAAAAAAAC38/U_TJK2gIwzE/s1600-h/DSCN9062.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3DQKGnE9I/AAAAAAAAC38/U_TJK2gIwzE/s320/DSCN9062.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322625016979198930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3DPqe_PRI/AAAAAAAAC30/4_FKg5aXAEE/s1600-h/DSCN9061.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3DPqe_PRI/AAAAAAAAC30/4_FKg5aXAEE/s320/DSCN9061.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322625008491511058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3ChcIRVDI/AAAAAAAAC3s/kmWjktCIruk/s1600-h/DSCN9060.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3ChcIRVDI/AAAAAAAAC3s/kmWjktCIruk/s320/DSCN9060.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322624214364148786" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3ChCuBAoI/AAAAAAAAC3k/ctXe_OJrGMc/s1600-h/DSCN9058.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3ChCuBAoI/AAAAAAAAC3k/ctXe_OJrGMc/s320/DSCN9058.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322624207543140994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3CglG8OgI/AAAAAAAAC3c/Lzz6S0B7Jq4/s1600-h/DSCN9056.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3CglG8OgI/AAAAAAAAC3c/Lzz6S0B7Jq4/s320/DSCN9056.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322624199594621442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3CglcsPYI/AAAAAAAAC3U/8IDB0VBNTbg/s1600-h/DSCN9054.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3CglcsPYI/AAAAAAAAC3U/8IDB0VBNTbg/s320/DSCN9054.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322624199685848450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3CgfnBe_I/AAAAAAAAC3M/o7htQeUc8eg/s1600-h/DSCN9053.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3CgfnBe_I/AAAAAAAAC3M/o7htQeUc8eg/s320/DSCN9053.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322624198118570994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3BnMGeY_I/AAAAAAAAC3E/UtVbdxtf20E/s1600-h/DSCN9047.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3BnMGeY_I/AAAAAAAAC3E/UtVbdxtf20E/s320/DSCN9047.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322623213629236210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3BnPlbnVI/AAAAAAAAC28/wGJVcrZCH60/s1600-h/DSCN9045.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3BnPlbnVI/AAAAAAAAC28/wGJVcrZCH60/s320/DSCN9045.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322623214564384082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3BmpieRyI/AAAAAAAAC20/hbQYlIoYABM/s1600-h/DSCN9044.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3BmpieRyI/AAAAAAAAC20/hbQYlIoYABM/s320/DSCN9044.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322623204351428386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3BmQRPR_I/AAAAAAAAC2s/ixrvq3DoO7Q/s1600-h/DSCN9042.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3BmQRPR_I/AAAAAAAAC2s/ixrvq3DoO7Q/s320/DSCN9042.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322623197568255986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3Bl84NknI/AAAAAAAAC2k/q03qa2gLvgk/s1600-h/DSCN9050.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3Bl84NknI/AAAAAAAAC2k/q03qa2gLvgk/s320/DSCN9050.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322623192363012722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-6816822058034351450?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/6816822058034351450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=6816822058034351450' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6816822058034351450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6816822058034351450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/04/come-in-come-out-come-in-come-out.html' title='Come in, come out, come in, come out tonight'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sd3GHlyonnI/AAAAAAAAC5U/pheCrqjuwJo/s72-c/DSCN9041.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-3770988948972821681</id><published>2009-04-08T05:17:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T05:24:49.106+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Before the night sleeps</title><content type='html'>currently: nothing actually.&lt;br /&gt;craving: uhh fried corn!&lt;br /&gt;listening: dead and gone&lt;br /&gt;mood: quite sleepy already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok boyfriend has gone to sleep and i'm not sleeping yet. It's 5 there alrd and i promise i'll head to bed after this. I'm soooo gonna bug him to transfer the money for me! Hmph. 'cause i want the skirt so bad that he has to get it for me. i don't care sia, he has to get that for me 'cause i love him alot. lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ouh yeah one thing.. just now someone actually was damn fucking happy when i got all 'jealous-gf-material'. It was quite a show. Hmph. I was pissed and all angry and questioning and then he could just go all happy saying it's a good thing that i got all 'ehh-who's-this-girl' like that. Bloody hell. Cbbb. And of course i read his appeal letter. hahahah. awww... he hasnt met me for 4 months and 23 days. LOL. I love you baby. In case ur reading this, we just met last few weeks k. awwww... paisehhh alrdy. Hohoho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't help this though. hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[3:27:54 AM] mischaoncrack: babyyy&lt;br /&gt;[3:27:58 AM] mischaoncrack: this are all nothinggg&lt;br /&gt;[3:27:59 AM] mischaoncrack: diont worryyy&lt;br /&gt;[3:28:09 AM] trosals: hmph&lt;br /&gt;[3:28:12 AM] mischaoncrack: i'm already really really really happy to ahve you..&lt;br /&gt;[3:28:23 AM] mischaoncrack: sorry k baby?..&lt;br /&gt;[3:28:39 AM] mischaoncrack: but when u're like this.. i feel like u really really really love me..&lt;br /&gt;[3:28:45 AM] trosals: seeeeeeeee&lt;br /&gt;[3:28:47 AM] trosals: I KNEW IT&lt;br /&gt;[3:28:47 AM] mischaoncrack: which is a really really good thing&lt;br /&gt;[3:28:49 AM] trosals: bh youuuu&lt;br /&gt;[3:28:51 AM] trosals: dahhh&lt;br /&gt;[3:28:55 AM] trosals: drama boy&lt;br /&gt;[3:28:57 AM] mischaoncrack: cause i really really really love you also..&lt;br /&gt;[3:29:01 AM] trosals: in appeal later say u love ur gf&lt;br /&gt;[3:29:03 AM] trosals: no link sia&lt;br /&gt;[3:29:08 AM] mischaoncrack: babyyy&lt;br /&gt;[3:29:09 AM] mischaoncrack: DAH&lt;br /&gt;[3:29:12 AM] mischaoncrack: SHH&lt;br /&gt;[3:29:13 AM] trosals: what?&lt;br /&gt;[3:29:17 AM] mischaoncrack: u bastard siaaaa&lt;br /&gt;[3:29:18 AM] trosals: i laughed siaaaaa&lt;br /&gt;[3:29:20 AM] mischaoncrack: u read my appeal letter&lt;br /&gt;[3:29:23 AM] trosals: EHHH TOO BAD&lt;br /&gt;[3:29:25 AM] trosals: i read all alrdy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;blah blahh..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[3:37:55 AM] mischaoncrack: babyyyy&lt;br /&gt;[3:37:58 AM] trosals: whattttttttttt&lt;br /&gt;[3:38:02 AM] mischaoncrack: u are the prettiest in the whole wide world to me..&lt;br /&gt;[3:38:07 AM] trosals: ah ahh&lt;br /&gt;[3:38:09 AM] trosals: save it k&lt;br /&gt;[3:38:12 AM] trosals: still angry k&lt;br /&gt;[3:38:14 AM] trosals: hmph&lt;br /&gt;[3:38:16 AM] trosals: *bossy*&lt;br /&gt;[3:38:23 AM] mischaoncrack: u areee soooooo cuteeee&lt;br /&gt;[3:38:25 AM] mischaoncrack: bossy?&lt;br /&gt;[3:38:26 AM] trosals: :^)&lt;br /&gt;[3:38:29 AM] mischaoncrack: hmmmm&lt;br /&gt;[3:38:32 AM] trosals: whatttttttt&lt;br /&gt;[3:38:33 AM] trosals: shut up&lt;br /&gt;[3:38:34 AM] mischaoncrack: u take charge in bed issit?&lt;br /&gt;[3:38:36 AM] trosals: cute ur head ahh&lt;br /&gt;[3:38:38 AM] trosals: bh&lt;br /&gt;[3:38:41 AM] trosals: whatever ah&lt;br /&gt;[3:38:42 AM] trosals: hmph&lt;br /&gt;[3:38:56 AM] mischaoncrack: ehhhhh&lt;br /&gt;[3:38:58 AM] trosals: (punch)&lt;br /&gt;[3:39:11 AM] mischaoncrack: *gives up and let her do anything she want to me*&lt;br /&gt;[3:39:18 AM] mischaoncrack: *on bed*&lt;br /&gt;[3:39:35 AM] trosals: (confident sia this guy)&lt;br /&gt;[3:39:40 AM] trosals: (tak layan ah eh)&lt;br /&gt;[3:39:53 AM] mischaoncrack: eeeeeee&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok nvm about the bed part. hahahhaa.. someone's been strange recently. always mentioning about something dangerous!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and it feeeeeels really really reallyyyy goood to know someone's password! but it sucks when i cannot log in! Somebody's gonna get hurt real bad~ Somebody! I think you know him~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dah.. nites ah. zZzZ&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. that somebody should watch out alot!!!! &gt;.&lt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-3770988948972821681?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/3770988948972821681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=3770988948972821681' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/3770988948972821681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/3770988948972821681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/04/before-night-sleeps.html' title='Before the night sleeps'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-3612368042537521006</id><published>2009-04-06T18:17:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T18:37:59.469+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Time flies, we don't</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SdnbGNDPYxI/AAAAAAAAC2c/IjX5EQMWc0s/s1600-h/150320092014.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321525334343901970" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SdnbGNDPYxI/AAAAAAAAC2c/IjX5EQMWc0s/s320/150320092014.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;listening: Rumors (on MTV ah..)&lt;br /&gt;mood: really really exhausted and feeling sick.&lt;br /&gt;thinking: when will he come home and i'm worn out.&lt;br /&gt;notes: no more no more beers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the two continuous days, i've been boozing so much to the point that now i think i'm sick. Hangover sucks! yeah it sucks like shit.. and then i didn't get to sleep much lately so yeah.. urgh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday i stayed over Ashley's house and played cards and drink and then i still chatted with bf. Have been spending quality time with Ashley and the gang and somehow it's a good thing to create memories before i leave. Somehow i'm pretty thankful for the fact that even though being here makes everything dificult for me, i still have someone like Ashley or Terry to count on at harder times. it's amusing though, 'cause i didn't think i'd find such good friends here. still, it's goooood of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There had been a lot of tensions and shits happen in bf's life right now. Things that none of us wished for it to happen, and it brings him down so much that i wish i could be there for him earlier to just walk him through the bad times. However, at times when we talk about it, i'd feel like it's my fault that these shits crashing him like this, 'cause for the record, even since we are together, i never stop giving him troubles and stuff. urgh. Why ah? :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A gentle reminder that everything will stay the same as it is no matter what the outcome is. After walking a long tiring road, i often look at myself and wonder how much i did to be able to go through it. And of course it all happens for a reasons and i know i'm very lucky to love and have loved by him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I love you.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah my head is slow and i'm quite hallucinating things in front of my eyes now eh. it's actually fun to be this tired and i feel like hearing my bf's voice. i miss him like crazy. and i need some hugssssss!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; kisses ah eh.. :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-3612368042537521006?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/3612368042537521006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=3612368042537521006' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/3612368042537521006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/3612368042537521006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/04/time-flies-we-dont.html' title='Time flies, we don&apos;t'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SdnbGNDPYxI/AAAAAAAAC2c/IjX5EQMWc0s/s72-c/150320092014.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-540441811390504412</id><published>2009-04-04T06:12:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T06:14:24.125+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wait for you: failed half way</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SdaKKi7EicI/AAAAAAAAC2U/GKulb0QvGpk/s1600-h/150320091994.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320591923562711490" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SdaKKi7EicI/AAAAAAAAC2U/GKulb0QvGpk/s320/150320091994.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SdaJXJ7iFNI/AAAAAAAAC2M/yEENZ2vpseM/s1600-h/150320091994.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;listening: was i on your mind - jessie baylin&lt;br /&gt;feeling: yucky and abit sleepy alrdy&lt;br /&gt;thinking: how he's gonna do smth about getting to me?!&lt;br /&gt;notes: hmm.. im sooo gonna upload my imeem&lt;br /&gt;more notes: im so proud of myself&lt;br /&gt;mood: all of everything -__-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chey, what time is it now? Sigh. No nicotine tonight but i survived until now even though bf just came online for awhile eariler and somehow after he went to sleep i kinda hated my feeling. But nvm about that, look on the bright side, i've already learnt the intro of the song Wait For You online. Wah i'm so proud. Really, suddenly I feel like genius actually. hhaaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, after i went home from coffee with Terry, i just felt singing and the music's indulgence just kind of came rushing to me so i started singing and then decided to go Fruit loops Studio and learn some stuff there. I was quite irrating 'cause Rose obviously hated everything. hahaha.. even at the songs i was listening to. So after that i decided to learn some piano and then i went to youtube. I surfed through couples of songs: Viva la vida, A thousand miles, Wait for you, Because of you (Ne yo) and i forgot what other songs. Well, all failed except for A thousand miles and Wait for you. Using FL on a laptop is fucked irritating because I can't press on 3 or 4 keys together to make the notes. So then the beep will do the beeping thing, which frustrates me like shit. Urgh. Still....... after hours and hours, I've figured the intro of Wait for you but then of course it sounds different than on the real piano because FL keyboard is a small one. A thousand miles failed badly 'cause my laptop does its wonder. Bloody hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ha. i feel like imeem-ing my piano intro 'cause somehow it's something good i did over the sleepless night. *clap to myself*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm hmm.. i think sometimes i do try alot and when i look at him i dont see him trying enough. Well somehow at times i'm annoyed by the reasons or excuses he gives though. It's been me lately. Am i having the girls' thing again? Nvm. I just feel like bathing after this and have a good sleep later. and i have this feeling the song will play in my head like it's haunting me. hahha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if right, if i ever put it up here.. u should listen. hahahha. ahh~ i feel so hyped suddenly. the sky might get brighter and birds might be chirping in awhile. Morning is nearing alrd.. i'm such a night owl.........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-540441811390504412?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/540441811390504412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=540441811390504412' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/540441811390504412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/540441811390504412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/04/wait-for-you-failed-half-way.html' title='Wait for you: failed half way'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SdaKKi7EicI/AAAAAAAAC2U/GKulb0QvGpk/s72-c/150320091994.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-5811439391656093360</id><published>2009-04-01T17:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T06:11:56.807+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The longer you stay..</title><content type='html'>friend says:&lt;br /&gt;just finish watchin soccer hehehe&lt;br /&gt;so how are you !&lt;br /&gt;u in sg or what.&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;no ah&lt;br /&gt;but im going back alrdy&lt;br /&gt;schooling back&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;huh&lt;br /&gt;cool&lt;br /&gt;which school.&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;mdis&lt;br /&gt;i cant go poly ah&lt;br /&gt;so i shall stick to private&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;iseee.&lt;br /&gt;mdis no more already&lt;br /&gt;you dotn know ah.&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;huh?&lt;br /&gt;then?&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;jsut closed not long ago.&lt;br /&gt;think last week.&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;but i got accepted what&lt;br /&gt;ehh fuck you ah&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;canot be la.&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;not funny&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;REALLY LA ROSA.&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;swear?&lt;br /&gt;hahaha&lt;br /&gt;ehh dont play siol&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;omg la april fool sia. cannot swear.&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;ARGH FUCK YOUUUUUUU DREW&lt;br /&gt;cbbbbbbbb&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;im a fool if i swear yo&lt;br /&gt;LOL&lt;br /&gt;LOL&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;hahahhaha&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;LOL&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;fuck fuck&lt;br /&gt;habessss&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;i dont even know april alrdy sia.&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;i blog ah&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;till my friend&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;fucking shit you&lt;br /&gt;hahaha&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;fucking prank me now.&lt;br /&gt;BLOG WHAT&lt;br /&gt;HAHA&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;cbbbb&lt;br /&gt;u prank me&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;SONG BO ROSA&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;ehh shut up&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;but i knew u knew it was fake la duh.&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;u scared the crap out of me&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;YEA RIGHT.&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;ehh no&lt;br /&gt;but for a moment i was scared&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;hahahahhahahahahhahaa&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;eeeeeeeeee&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;hahahahahaha&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHAH&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;eh not funny&lt;br /&gt;fuck you ah&lt;br /&gt;sorry ah&lt;br /&gt;but i just have to swear u see&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;sry uh. was pretty lame hope u dont mind&lt;br /&gt;HAHAa&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;hahhahaah&lt;br /&gt;first one sia&lt;br /&gt;ouch&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;really meh.&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;ya laaaaa&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;omg im the first one&lt;br /&gt;OMGOMGOMGOGM&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;ive been rotting&lt;br /&gt;ehhh&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHAA&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;cb&lt;br /&gt;proud ah ni&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;uh UH LA SIA.&lt;br /&gt;you got blog ah. nv link me meh.&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;hahaah&lt;br /&gt;i dun even know u had a blog&lt;br /&gt;bloody hell you&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;april fool la when e fuck i got blog.&lt;br /&gt;LOLOLOL&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHh&lt;br /&gt;CBBB&lt;br /&gt;DAHH&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;LOLOLOl&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHAHA ROSA&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;FUCK OFF&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHAHAHAHAHA&lt;br /&gt;2nd time&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHAHA&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;FUCK OFFFFFFF BIG TIME&lt;br /&gt;cbbbbb&lt;br /&gt;thanks ah eh&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHA&lt;br /&gt;trosaa says:&lt;br /&gt;not funny alrdy ah drew&lt;br /&gt;friend says:&lt;br /&gt;ok la.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;blah blah blah.. ah actually i think ppl dont give up that easily 'cause my friend still tried to fool me for the 3rd and 4th time but obviously i didn't buy it again of course. urgh urgh. So that was my yesterday night before something else occured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bf went online at like 6 plus in singapore and then the whole package of disappointment came crush down, added with a lie. Hmm.. how worse can it get right? I had a rough night, was too pissed and hurt that i just left and headed to bed. And yeah, basically yesterday sucked. and for a moment i hated everything, i hated the reason that im waiting for him, i hated the reason to go to singapore and study, i hated being the one who waits, i hated so much, i hated myself even. but what can i say? it's all happened. I still hate that part. He lied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama and I went out today. We just spent time together and had pastries at Tous Les Jours after going to spa. It was the best pastry i've even been at and tasted the best soft bread and all those stuff like Bread Talk. Ma had a body massage and I went for skincare treatment. Ma bought the package for me and I just want to do something meaningful for a good cause for once. I still hope that it's worth the money though, 'cause it might cost up till 400bucks or smth. Urgh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I asked Ma if i could have some money for my farewell party in time to come, but of course she definitely said no as i expected. Boohoo to that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just realised that things aren't the same way they used to be. It came to me that for the past few days, we live lives the way we want it, without a consideration of someone's else opinions, or perhaps it just doens't matter 'cause we ourselves want it the way it is, for our own selves, own benefits. I might be called unreasonable for saying these, but maybe that's what i think when i look at what i've been through lately. I've been the one who's hurt, caused by another person who's taking the toll by personal reasons. I don't want to know if this is how fall-out feels like, but it sucks though, to be very honest. I hate this, like i've already made myself clear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did feel like: the longer you stay in something, the easier it is to feel like this. To feel like it's been too long and it's time to take a break and be fulllllllll of yourself to the point you forget who's by your side, looking right at you and waiting for something out from you. Something to make them happy. I can't deny I did want that, and for some reasons, i felt like, i'm not the only who wanted it. But... the difference is, I didn't do it, someone has already done it, and it made me to feel this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Howwwwwww ironicccccc..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-5811439391656093360?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/5811439391656093360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=5811439391656093360' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5811439391656093360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5811439391656093360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/04/longer-you-stay.html' title='The longer you stay..'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-6219737487291601182</id><published>2009-04-01T05:21:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T05:37:17.187+08:00</updated><title type='text'>just gotta do it</title><content type='html'>I know I really held back before doing this, but i just had to do it because up till this point, i still can't do it and i'm still waiting for him to come back. It's this hard, 'cause it was so late but there's no way for me to reach out for him. I could call his home but look at the time, it's like 5 in the morning over there. In fact i did call, at 2plus which was like 3plus there. It was unpleasant to call home phone at such hours but yes, i fucking had to do that. Guess what? he wasn't home at that time. Great great great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes I cried, as usual and what's for me to do now? I'm fucking sad and i've got nothing to do but to get the grip out of this. When was the last time i enjoyed the conversation and go to sleep with a smile on my face?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might have insomia or smth? argh fuck that now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;gimme some good reasons not to be mad or sad or miserable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ahh some unexpected person just gave me an idea to survive tonight! light bulb!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and ahh.. i got fooled? fucking hellllll....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... and then another one.. cbbb.. nvm later i blog somemore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-6219737487291601182?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/6219737487291601182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=6219737487291601182' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6219737487291601182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6219737487291601182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/04/just-gotta-do-it.html' title='just gotta do it'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-5064888720686774677</id><published>2009-04-01T02:03:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T02:17:28.573+08:00</updated><title type='text'>State of patience</title><content type='html'>mood: stressed&lt;br /&gt;eating: chocolates!&lt;br /&gt;drinking: thirsty like shit&lt;br /&gt;thinking: where the fuck is he?&lt;br /&gt;notes: i'm stressed for so many reasons and i'm tired of waiting for someone to come online.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kind of consider myself as a homeless person because i do not have a proper home await me at Singapore like i thought it would be. I'm kind of stressed actually, that i'm gonna be so busy with my time when i'm there before school starts and it sucks i think. Okay maybe i'm really stressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've spent almost 2 or 3 hours online searching for reasonable prizes for rooms, and then i switched to thinking about my old hostel which i stayed for like a year during sec1 time. I'm basically feeling shuckky to the max and bf isn't online? wtf? now i'm pissed i guess. fuck it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so much for talking too much. bloody hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm still stressed. i should start planning on everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i feel like doing my hair tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-5064888720686774677?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/5064888720686774677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=5064888720686774677' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5064888720686774677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5064888720686774677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/04/state-of-patience.html' title='State of patience'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-8482232843993723861</id><published>2009-03-31T05:36:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T05:41:51.377+08:00</updated><title type='text'>goodnight</title><content type='html'>location: desktop table.&lt;br /&gt;feeling: finally exhaustion kicked in.&lt;br /&gt;thinking: about why the fuck in the world happened at the conversation?&lt;br /&gt;more thinking: im weird.&lt;br /&gt;more more thinking: i think i wanna start doing smth meaningful later on.&lt;br /&gt;determination: i have to find my chemistry book!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ah it's gonna 5 soon. i'm after this post i'm going to sleep. and yeah.. i wanna talk to mama about something. the same old singapore-related stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've been random at my blog so much. tt's how bored i am. i'm not even blogging the same way i was. andddddddddd... im not going to turn off my laptop tonight 'cause i just wanna leave the pages as they are. wee!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;rosa trinh thu raz: pretty much interesting at this point.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-8482232843993723861?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/8482232843993723861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=8482232843993723861' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/8482232843993723861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/8482232843993723861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/goodnight.html' title='goodnight'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-7898239996345133774</id><published>2009-03-31T04:04:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T04:14:37.389+08:00</updated><title type='text'>a little small note</title><content type='html'>currently: chatting with bf.&lt;br /&gt;mood: kind of merajok.&lt;br /&gt;thinking: about my life in weeks time when i arrive singapore.&lt;br /&gt;notes: i think im easily insecured and.. i'm fucking expecting alot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been hopping through blogs by blogs of online clothes and stuff. Found myself so engrossed in it and so many pretty things fed my eyes. I want them so much though, but then i'm wondering if i will be getting it. sigh sigh. Suddenly i lost my mood over something in the middle of something else. kind of fucked-up for me though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah.. what am i gonna do tomorrow? i seriously feel so weird suddenly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;i want u to stay with me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-7898239996345133774?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/7898239996345133774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=7898239996345133774' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7898239996345133774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7898239996345133774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/little-small-note.html' title='a little small note'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-3881723519232023108</id><published>2009-03-30T06:18:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T06:15:39.726+08:00</updated><title type='text'>still tiredddd..</title><content type='html'>mood: fcuked exhausted.&lt;br /&gt;listening: nothing.&lt;br /&gt;thinking: it's time for me to go to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;eating: nothing and i'm growling.&lt;br /&gt;notes: i'm still waiting and i'm quite aware that it's already 6 o'clock in singapore.&lt;br /&gt;more notes: i've been reading my previous months' entries since hours ago.&lt;br /&gt;more more notes: expect another entry from me later today or tomorrow, for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm so disappointed in bf. but i might want to call him later? urgh. why ah? :(&lt;br /&gt;(i guess i just love him too much)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;andd.. if i don't sleep now, i might oversleep my tomorrow morning which fills with tasks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i feel like sipping a glass of red wine, but no thanks. i'm too worn out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-3881723519232023108?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/3881723519232023108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=3881723519232023108' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/3881723519232023108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/3881723519232023108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/still-tiredddd.html' title='still tiredddd..'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-4670305242865478888</id><published>2009-03-30T03:49:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T04:20:11.728+08:00</updated><title type='text'>tireddd</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc_R_ajUvaI/AAAAAAAAC2E/A_LQP1EZwU0/s1600-h/hippyy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 146px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc_R_ajUvaI/AAAAAAAAC2E/A_LQP1EZwU0/s200/hippyy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318700572337290658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ah God i'm finally done with my blog. Somehow i'm happy with it 'cause it was so black, made me so black and dull with it. Haha. I'm like having a slight noseblock and it's so irritating though. Morrrtherfuckit. Yeah, btw, Nad somehow moaned online for me. How sweet. haahaha. I had a fun time catching up with her. Her company has always been good and moreover bf is like at some bbq which made me sad 'cause i was somewhat expecting him to be home for me. Well? :( to that.. boohoo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna be running around a lot tomorrow for sure. I gotta go to bank to get my fees transfered to MDIS and go to my agency centre to get my documents for my school. I also need to go to APU and sell my books and hopefully to get the money at last. I'm gonna be pimping to gym from now onwards. I know i'm putting weight and it shows obviously, even i can tell. I've not confirmed my flight yet 'cause there are couples of things i need to settle and put my mind to peace. It's kind of tiring though, and on wednesday i'm getting my credit card! How groovyyyy!!! Weee!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking fowards to my shopping spree although I've not told mama about wanting to shop yet. Urgh. But then there are sales going on in almost everywhere I go, hence, pray pray pray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ouh yeah, I know who's been reading my blog but never tell me. Bloody hell. They are the ones who actually know i'm going to singapore but they never leave a word when they are at my blog. How sad. Urghhh. But i'm happy my friends are still lingering around like some cute little ghosts. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my heart is still beating like running on trackmills 'cause i just fagged at the corridor! muahahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. Coffee Beans at NOWZONE reminded me of Singapore Starbucks so much. Days are still draggy, but i'm so exciteddddd!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-4670305242865478888?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/4670305242865478888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=4670305242865478888' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4670305242865478888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4670305242865478888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/tireddd.html' title='tireddd'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc_R_ajUvaI/AAAAAAAAC2E/A_LQP1EZwU0/s72-c/hippyy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-6578266208422912558</id><published>2009-03-29T04:40:00.013+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T05:31:09.399+08:00</updated><title type='text'>as easy as one,two,three,four</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6RYOctB5I/AAAAAAAAC10/OZDVNCuRCXo/s1600-h/n626071080_869260_972.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318348055352510354" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6RYOctB5I/AAAAAAAAC10/OZDVNCuRCXo/s320/n626071080_869260_972.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6P87rOrOI/AAAAAAAAC1k/nndHcX0u5Lo/s1600-h/page.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318346486945066210" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6P87rOrOI/AAAAAAAAC1k/nndHcX0u5Lo/s320/page.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6OVWP2dYI/AAAAAAAAC1c/lWdi9q7PBWc/s1600-h/Image025+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318344707371595138" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6OVWP2dYI/AAAAAAAAC1c/lWdi9q7PBWc/s200/Image025+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6OVSfytEI/AAAAAAAAC1U/gNRYoDWaWK4/s1600-h/Image018+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318344706364716098" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6OVSfytEI/AAAAAAAAC1U/gNRYoDWaWK4/s200/Image018+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6Njmos3FI/AAAAAAAAC1M/gQ2WqEYmz34/s1600-h/P4030033.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318343852777331794" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6Njmos3FI/AAAAAAAAC1M/gQ2WqEYmz34/s200/P4030033.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6NjLbKYoI/AAAAAAAAC1E/tqtQlHQqySI/s1600-h/P4030016E.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318343845472789122" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6NjLbKYoI/AAAAAAAAC1E/tqtQlHQqySI/s200/P4030016E.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6NizLwseI/AAAAAAAAC08/Xjj5qfOQV08/s1600-h/P4030012.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318343838965740002" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6NizLwseI/AAAAAAAAC08/Xjj5qfOQV08/s200/P4030012.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6MPDDvRRI/AAAAAAAAC00/VWLMwUFLRJg/s1600-h/P4030015.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318342400118048018" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6MPDDvRRI/AAAAAAAAC00/VWLMwUFLRJg/s200/P4030015.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6MOpGXtwI/AAAAAAAAC0k/ZNylGuAJxm8/s1600-h/P4030006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318342393149765378" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6MOpGXtwI/AAAAAAAAC0k/ZNylGuAJxm8/s200/P4030006.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6MO4DxRZI/AAAAAAAAC0s/QSIA3l8toaM/s1600-h/P4030014.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318342397165389202" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6MO4DxRZI/AAAAAAAAC0s/QSIA3l8toaM/s200/P4030014.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6MOeHFrNI/AAAAAAAAC0c/r2_mHVPKI3o/s1600-h/P4030004E.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318342390199987410" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6MOeHFrNI/AAAAAAAAC0c/r2_mHVPKI3o/s200/P4030004E.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6MOKSNfrI/AAAAAAAAC0U/6jDln7GDLvA/s1600-h/P4030003E.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318342384877928114" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6MOKSNfrI/AAAAAAAAC0U/6jDln7GDLvA/s200/P4030003E.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Funny it seems that it's been almost 2 years since those pictures were taken. At least it reminds me of the good times I have in Singapore with my friends. Mentioning and claiming that I have friends makes me feel happy and loved. It occured to me before that i used to need such company by my side. I'm more than excited, I'm too overwhelmed by the facts that I'm gonna be with them once again. Perhaps new friends and new people will come, but I hope none will go. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;friends: special need&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I didn't expect myself to be so emotional about worrying if I still have anymore, but somehow I was. And for the past two days, with my conversations with the same old ones, it came rushing to me that the memories i had with them were just nothing but normal passes. Once again, I'm like really going out of my head, waiting for the draggy days to go by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I fell in love with Plain White T's new song. It's so sweet. I can just go all happy happy happy listening to it. Chey, love's in the air kepe? hahahaha. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I'm truly thankful at this moment for my mom's support to let me do what i want to do. i definitely have my facts right that I wanna achieve something and graduate well to make her proud and live good for my future. And of course my boyfriend too, the one who has been by me through almost everything, and uh.. yesterday was our 8th month anniversary though. Wee!! So uh..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Happy 8th-Month-1-Day, baby! I love youuuuuu :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Finally i can feel good and safe, and can whisper to myself that: &lt;em&gt;satisfied at least&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I'm gonna have so many things to do! I can smell the errands coming. I can smell being busy soon enough. andddd perhaps i'm smelling Singapore!! So uh.. who's smelling me? hahahha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;goodnight folks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;P.S. Baby, I love you and go to facebook for our pictures k? the rest i'm still taking my time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;ahhhhhhhhhhhh~&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;i love you~ I love you~ *im singing though*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;object height="295" width="480"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/PYp0GVzmLgY&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/PYp0GVzmLgY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="380" height="305"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-6578266208422912558?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/6578266208422912558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=6578266208422912558' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6578266208422912558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6578266208422912558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/as-easy-as-onetwothreefour.html' title='as easy as one,two,three,four'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sc6RYOctB5I/AAAAAAAAC10/OZDVNCuRCXo/s72-c/n626071080_869260_972.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-2652629015256368867</id><published>2009-03-28T18:07:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T18:21:23.052+08:00</updated><title type='text'>busypacked</title><content type='html'>I'm like doing all the things to keep myself occupied even though i might go out later on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well.. i am updating my pictures ALL online. I'm still trying for that although it's so much of pictures!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am doing my blogskin because I'm sick of this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am still thinking when is the good date to fly!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I AM GETTING MY CREDIT CARD! (the most exciting thing ever)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am just nervous of going back there: weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am really really craving for nicotine and that's the reason why i think i really wanna go out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am still working on my pictures. And at least I have a link for everyone to click on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://trosaa.multiply.com/photos/album/1/Sunday_Madness"&gt;Bowling Day Out&lt;/a&gt;: one of the best sunday i ever had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;laters!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and yeah.. actually i'm just click on the 'random skin' to lead me to some magic. i'm so bored. zZz. but i'm watching drama later of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://trosaa.multiply.com/photos/album/1/Sunday_Madness"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://trosaa.multiply.com/photos/album/1/Sunday_Madness"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://trosaa.multiply.com/photos/album/1/Sunday_Madness"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-2652629015256368867?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/2652629015256368867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=2652629015256368867' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/2652629015256368867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/2652629015256368867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/busypacked.html' title='busypacked'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-6178561487438312458</id><published>2009-03-27T22:01:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T22:07:57.049+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm going back.. coming back.. being back..</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SczbxBrwrsI/AAAAAAAAC0M/ks4IGiB1f4M/s1600-h/DSCN8764.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317866895329767106" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SczbxBrwrsI/AAAAAAAAC0M/ks4IGiB1f4M/s320/DSCN8764.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SczbxOfaMnI/AAAAAAAAC0E/EunbxUaEzjQ/s1600-h/DSCN8761.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317866898767622770" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SczbxOfaMnI/AAAAAAAAC0E/EunbxUaEzjQ/s320/DSCN8761.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/ScKYDMPmZ5I/AAAAAAAACz8/9uwYhDg_d2k/s1600-h/DSCN8793.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314977690844293010" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/ScKYDMPmZ5I/AAAAAAAACz8/9uwYhDg_d2k/s320/DSCN8793.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/ScKYC7dXFBI/AAAAAAAACz0/OhDuPRyVvCM/s1600-h/DSCN8792.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314977686338606098" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/ScKYC7dXFBI/AAAAAAAACz0/OhDuPRyVvCM/s320/DSCN8792.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/ScKXNJJh4PI/AAAAAAAACzs/g6Dp2jffjQQ/s1600-h/DSCN8794.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314976762300588274" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/ScKXNJJh4PI/AAAAAAAACzs/g6Dp2jffjQQ/s200/DSCN8794.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/ScKXMwpjIxI/AAAAAAAACzk/02aeAc04fpk/s1600-h/DSCN8784.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314976755724002066" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/ScKXMwpjIxI/AAAAAAAACzk/02aeAc04fpk/s200/DSCN8784.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6mJa7wOJI/AAAAAAAACzM/UNxUiLkj0BE/s1600-h/DSCN8781.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313867291122743442" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6mJa7wOJI/AAAAAAAACzM/UNxUiLkj0BE/s200/DSCN8781.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6mIjOwvwI/AAAAAAAACzE/HMxGXIScmds/s1600-h/DSCN8772.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313867276170084098" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6mIjOwvwI/AAAAAAAACzE/HMxGXIScmds/s200/DSCN8772.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6k0kDc1jI/AAAAAAAACy8/r_Fyotn53vQ/s1600-h/DSCN8789.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313865833282065970" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6k0kDc1jI/AAAAAAAACy8/r_Fyotn53vQ/s320/DSCN8789.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6k0fZ5vII/AAAAAAAACy0/9zXssVh8kGw/s1600-h/DSCN8774.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313865832034057346" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6k0fZ5vII/AAAAAAAACy0/9zXssVh8kGw/s320/DSCN8774.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6kzbrHBoI/AAAAAAAACys/xXa00QKTwtQ/s1600-h/DSCN8773.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313865813852620418" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6kzbrHBoI/AAAAAAAACys/xXa00QKTwtQ/s320/DSCN8773.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6kzMVMyvI/AAAAAAAACyk/ow2JTVucoYw/s1600-h/DSCN8770.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313865809734191858" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6kzMVMyvI/AAAAAAAACyk/ow2JTVucoYw/s320/DSCN8770.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6kyMwUC-I/AAAAAAAACyc/6VO8K6niLSI/s1600-h/DSCN8756.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313865792668044258" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6kyMwUC-I/AAAAAAAACyc/6VO8K6niLSI/s320/DSCN8756.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6j0WWVnrI/AAAAAAAACyU/1PFVCfE8aNY/s1600-h/DSCN8779.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313864730091560626" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6j0WWVnrI/AAAAAAAACyU/1PFVCfE8aNY/s200/DSCN8779.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6jzuPR7uI/AAAAAAAACyM/BpD27eimgbM/s1600-h/DSCN8766.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313864719324540642" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6jzuPR7uI/AAAAAAAACyM/BpD27eimgbM/s200/DSCN8766.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6jzZ0dU0I/AAAAAAAACyE/TmhBzukYmiQ/s1600-h/DSCN8769.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313864713843331906" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6jzZ0dU0I/AAAAAAAACyE/TmhBzukYmiQ/s200/DSCN8769.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6jyiDA8sI/AAAAAAAACx8/PY0PaqI0xhg/s1600-h/DSCN8763.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313864698872001218" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6jyiDA8sI/AAAAAAAACx8/PY0PaqI0xhg/s200/DSCN8763.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6i95M4wzI/AAAAAAAACx0/mT6h2VGb5Jw/s1600-h/DSCN8762.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313863794554356530" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6i95M4wzI/AAAAAAAACx0/mT6h2VGb5Jw/s200/DSCN8762.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6i9n3Hi_I/AAAAAAAACxs/YqYK0a2jvGo/s1600-h/DSCN8757.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313863789899647986" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6i9n3Hi_I/AAAAAAAACxs/YqYK0a2jvGo/s200/DSCN8757.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6i9XuGJ0I/AAAAAAAACxk/guuMA5VTPi8/s1600-h/DSCN8760.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313863785566840642" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6i9XuGJ0I/AAAAAAAACxk/guuMA5VTPi8/s200/DSCN8760.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6i9KVny4I/AAAAAAAACxc/s0HOXtgP1oU/s1600-h/DSCN8758.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313863781974526850" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6i9KVny4I/AAAAAAAACxc/s0HOXtgP1oU/s200/DSCN8758.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6gv8OrcfI/AAAAAAAACwU/Y_40FqCAmhA/s1600-h/DSCN8753.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313861355825754610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/Sb6gv8OrcfI/AAAAAAAACwU/Y_40FqCAmhA/s320/DSCN8753.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So uh.. the above pictures are like due for God-knows-how-long. After his 20 days over here, we spent a good quality time together and caught up to where we were left with way before that. There were moments that we just fought for no reasons and broke into laughers just by looking at each other 'stepping' angry. Hahaha. And and... He surprised me at my room's door. Hmm.. I still can vividly remember how that day went. I was in my room and there were knocks on the door, so I said 'come in' to whoever that was knocking 'cause obviously people in my house they don't knock before they come in anyway. So I just opened the door and there he was, appearing in front of my eyes. How insane that was!? And I was wearing some unglam outfit at home that I shut him out of the door and closed it.. prepare myself for everything and.... I had to hide the guitar I bought him also. :))))&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;On that day itself, my friends were coming over and they stayed for the night. Also before that, he finally gave me a ring. WEEE!!!!! So now, we both have a ring each with our names on it. But then the funny part was when he tried to hide it and pretended that he got me a leather bag as I wanted. Thennnn... I asked him whatever brand the bag was 'cause he was boasting about the prize of it! (skali it's double rings....) Guess what brand he actually came up with? Uh.. CL it was. Urgh. Well for your info, CL stood for Couple Labs and those stuff are available at Plaza Singapura or whatsoever. Chey, ape ni?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hmm... Whatever it is, I have a really good news which of course I have already shared the piece of it to Syahmi and also, Nadhirah. Wee! The thought of typing it at the tip of my fingers are giving me thrills!!!! HOHOHO!! So uh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I AM GOING BACK TO SINGAPORE FOR ANOTHER 3-4 YEARS!!!!!!!!!! AND IT'S GONNA BE SO SOOONNNNNNNNNN......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;God, how exciting it can be. By the way, I think I'm gonna be so busy trying what to do until I finally fly or something. Paperwork and packing and all the talking with Mama. But I know my boyfriend is happy enough! HOHOHO! I'm so excited, but of course I'll have my facts right though. I will post more pictures 'cause there are more to come. The above pictures are the ones we went on a date (step siaa date date) at Bud's. A very nice and cosy cafe with good atmosphere. Obviously we had the chocolate fondue which made us so damn bloody full and yeah, my so-called brother, Terry, came and joined after awhile. The pictures are definitely not in order and that should be all of it. More pictures will be coming up. Promise it is. Hehs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laters. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-6178561487438312458?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/6178561487438312458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=6178561487438312458' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6178561487438312458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6178561487438312458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-going-back-coming-back-being-back.html' title='I&apos;m going back.. coming back.. being back..'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SczbxBrwrsI/AAAAAAAAC0M/ks4IGiB1f4M/s72-c/DSCN8764.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-4434605977780987764</id><published>2009-03-06T23:21:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T14:17:01.538+08:00</updated><title type='text'>"I should be thankful for every day"</title><content type='html'>There are so many other reasons why I have to keep on going and be strong. I've been feeling kind of sad, but I realised that until today, I'm quite pulled through everything. I'm gonna see my dear lover of my life very soon, and I'm looking forwards to be in his arms and every other little things.&lt;br /&gt;I guess I might drop out of APU officially soon, I'm still hoping for a good spark in my life to flip everything over and start refocusing on my studies for a better cause. At this point of my life, I don't want just good or good-enough. I want 'better' and 'best' if possible. Even though now I feel like I've lost some kind of depedant to hang on with, but when I look around me, the closest I could reach is Syahmi and my family. And where is that reach? It's almost near to heaven, and I'm too concented and thankful already. It's the best thing and I can't ask for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It came to me that friends used to matter to me to me, and to those whom I used to care so much for, heartbrokenly didn't or don't seem to care for me that same way. I thought I didn't even exist in their life, or maybe not that bad, but just not the 'person' to have a small bit of their heart and mind to consider my existence. It's not about mutual friends anymore I guess. Hmm.. kind of pitiful huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm worried, I'm worried about things getting wrong and bad. However I still keep praying and those speeding frantic words of prayer are still running through my brain every day. Let's just look on the bright side, at least I'm not that very very left behind with nobody. I still have the real ones, the one who truly cares and and loves me... the same way I do to them. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-4434605977780987764?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/4434605977780987764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=4434605977780987764' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4434605977780987764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/4434605977780987764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-should-be-thankful-for-every-day.html' title='&quot;I should be thankful for every day&quot;'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-2687158795281182627</id><published>2009-03-05T21:41:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T21:58:31.822+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Who's really there.. is there</title><content type='html'>Well I remembered feeling sad. I remembered feeling that I've turning backs on me. I think I sort of misfigured out what the real meaning of 'Friends'. I don't know who are the friends they are to me though. It could be so emotional to feel such weird feeling, and at the same time it can make me like I'm a totally loser who has nothing much but me, and hopefully.. someone else who is 'real'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a rough week and I am glad that tomorrow is Friday. I stopped schooling for awhile now because of some set-backs. I've been feeling  kind of stressed about issues going on in my life. My family problems didn't seem to affect me so much in the past, but now I think I'm grown enough to start to blend in life, without denial that my family is no perfect family regardless of how perfect it seems though. Irony. Irony and more irony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MORE! MORE MORE IRONY... God, why I am so depressed all again now when I know I'm just quite happy and contented. Bloody hell. Sparks?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had the worst haircut in life ever. I think so. But when I tie it up, it's almost the way I like it. I'm still thinking what's next for my hair 'cause it sucks but not till it sucks to the suckiest. And then I'm returning my handphone tomorrow so no more Samsung touch-screen handphone with good keypad. Boohoo. And mama just won't let me buy a new handphone. I've already eyed on this cute LG handphone. See.. irony! Fuck shit. But then I love my nails. (and I can't even do the weeyaywee or yayweeyay anymore.. that's how sad and pathetic I am)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm so good at sighing now. I can just sit here and sigh all day long. And now I'm just doing nothing at home for don't know how long. Should I at least try to get a sneaky smile for some other brighter reasons to look fowards to? Well well well...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's it.. my friends? No one really.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-2687158795281182627?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/2687158795281182627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=2687158795281182627' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/2687158795281182627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/2687158795281182627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/03/whos-really-there-is-there.html' title='Who&apos;s really there.. is there'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-46053147091179441</id><published>2009-02-23T22:24:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T22:38:50.313+08:00</updated><title type='text'>"You felt anything but normal and I was just looking for a change"</title><content type='html'>I don't know why but now I feel sad for myself. I pited myself because I guess I might be changing, without knowing what I really want to transform myself into. Because now that I am writing my final paper and how much I've been thinking since yesterday night about what really changed my life over the past 16 years, I'm gonna start thinking real hard of what makes me today and I wanna start looking beyond this line here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid of losing. However, at the same time I wanna taste the misery of life, but maybe I don't want to lose to feel miserable and devastating. I think I'm kind of stuck. And I truly need a moment to myself. Of course, I want to feel love. Boohoo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my last week of this quarter already. Time is still crawling. My heart is on fire. I am losing my mind. Bye everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-46053147091179441?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/46053147091179441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=46053147091179441' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/46053147091179441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/46053147091179441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/02/you-felt-anything-but-normal-and-i-was.html' title='&quot;You felt anything but normal and I was just looking for a change&quot;'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-7724009689079240881</id><published>2009-02-22T01:28:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T03:56:42.043+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What a bad day</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SaA57DvKLOI/AAAAAAAACvc/FG1b6PeFQLM/s1600-h/Image50.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305304047820614882" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SaA57DvKLOI/AAAAAAAACvc/FG1b6PeFQLM/s320/Image50.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Wahh the faceeeeee!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Ok I just think it's a very funny picture of mine. I love it though. I love looking at my stupid pictures and I know I have another to upload one day. It's the old Signori Rosa picture which Nad has it in her friendster pictures. How much I miss her! Oh Nad if by chance you read this then yeah, I miss you. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;So so so.. I had a bad day, obviously. I'm going to list out all the 'accidents' (yeah I'm just exaggerating but never mind) and the unfortunate series of events that happened. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I got tripped on my feet and I spoilt my Billabong slippers WHICH I BOUGHT AT AUSTRALIA WHICH THEN I LOVE SO MUCH! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I was sitting on Terry's bike eating my junkies and fell and hit the lady's table where she sells and displays her junkies. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;My leg got slightly burnt because of exhaust pipe when the bike fell to one side.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I had to pay for the damages which weren't a lot but just some of her food dropped and yeah.. I had to pay anyway. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;While I was sitting and talking at Trung Nguyen Cafe, one happy bird shitted this tiny poop on my leg. Like what the hell?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;What else could go worse than that eh? Bloody hell. What a happening series! Argh. Come to think of it, I'm so damn sort of 'suay' today. Haiz haiz haiz. Anyway by the end of the day, what I'm determined is to find a job and make some money or something like that. I don't know why but I just feel like I should because I don't want to waste time doing nothing at home. But writing essays is quite a thing to do, but I think I'm too stressed at the time being. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What I am going to do now is to start on one of the writing that my friends asked me to help out. If not, I won't get to have the money. Boohoo. So yeah, goodnight. And boyfriend is finishing work soon and is coming home in some time soon! Yayweeyay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;AND DID YOU KNOW I GOT A NEW PHONE FINALLY? A PALM OKAYY! YAY!!!! MUACKS MUACKS! Ok I feel better now. The muacks muacks part is actually kind of extra. Bye.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-7724009689079240881?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/7724009689079240881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=7724009689079240881' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7724009689079240881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7724009689079240881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/02/what-bad-day.html' title='What a bad day'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SaA57DvKLOI/AAAAAAAACvc/FG1b6PeFQLM/s72-c/Image50.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-7405143911883656223</id><published>2009-02-18T22:04:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T22:07:00.406+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pictures as promised</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwR1Bw2XzI/AAAAAAAACu0/7c2w_K_dGAM/s1600-h/SBSH0413.jpg"&gt; &lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwR1Bw2XzI/AAAAAAAACu0/7c2w_K_dGAM/s200/SBSH0413.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304134063839665970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwR1JWaa1I/AAAAAAAACu8/8uRqDcVNooM/s1600-h/SBSH0414.jpg"&gt; &lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwR1JWaa1I/AAAAAAAACu8/8uRqDcVNooM/s200/SBSH0414.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304134065876265810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwR1Bw2XzI/AAAAAAAACu0/7c2w_K_dGAM/s1600-h/SBSH0413.jpg"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwSO7Es2eI/AAAAAAAACvU/7jH4sn2BqCw/s1600-h/SBSH0417.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwSO7Es2eI/AAAAAAAACvU/7jH4sn2BqCw/s200/SBSH0417.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304134508720478690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwSOfRuNGI/AAAAAAAACvM/rKZ9W9p5V54/s1600-h/SBSH0416.jpg"&gt; &lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwSOfRuNGI/AAAAAAAACvM/rKZ9W9p5V54/s200/SBSH0416.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304134501258900578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwR065wC4I/AAAAAAAACus/jwEWKpP3lpY/s1600-h/SBSH0412.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwR065wC4I/AAAAAAAACus/jwEWKpP3lpY/s200/SBSH0412.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304134061997951874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwR0-HZFhI/AAAAAAAACuk/QppjzSa2gt8/s1600-h/SBSH0411.jpg"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwSNzMkIxI/AAAAAAAACvE/v4_Bq0engow/s1600-h/SBSH0415.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwSNzMkIxI/AAAAAAAACvE/v4_Bq0engow/s200/SBSH0415.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304134489426109202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwR0v1u15I/AAAAAAAACuc/bUVkaEnmW3M/s1600-h/SBSH0410.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwR0v1u15I/AAAAAAAACuc/bUVkaEnmW3M/s200/SBSH0410.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304134059028305810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwR0-HZFhI/AAAAAAAACuk/QppjzSa2gt8/s1600-h/SBSH0411.jpg"&gt; &lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwR0-HZFhI/AAAAAAAACuk/QppjzSa2gt8/s200/SBSH0411.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304134062860473874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwRYwznViI/AAAAAAAACuU/p94DwMaTQ8Y/s1600-h/SBSH0409.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwRYwznViI/AAAAAAAACuU/p94DwMaTQ8Y/s200/SBSH0409.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304133578251523618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwRYxjYOcI/AAAAAAAACuM/4uhA1pbYjhs/s1600-h/SBSH0408.jpg"&gt; &lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwRYxjYOcI/AAAAAAAACuM/4uhA1pbYjhs/s200/SBSH0408.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304133578451859906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwRYxjYOcI/AAAAAAAACuM/4uhA1pbYjhs/s1600-h/SBSH0408.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwRYxjYOcI/AAAAAAAACuM/4uhA1pbYjhs/s200/SBSH0408.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304133578451859906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwRYoZYf5I/AAAAAAAACuE/kLAaztqsAaI/s1600-h/SBSH0406.jpg"&gt; &lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwRYoZYf5I/AAAAAAAACuE/kLAaztqsAaI/s200/SBSH0406.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304133575994015634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwRYtsme0I/AAAAAAAACt8/EkRS1mVdxIg/s1600-h/SBSH0140.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwRYtsme0I/AAAAAAAACt8/EkRS1mVdxIg/s200/SBSH0140.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304133577416801090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwRYt8_V8I/AAAAAAAACt0/NU_4ptUTI4I/s1600-h/SBSH0133.jpg"&gt; &lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwRYt8_V8I/AAAAAAAACt0/NU_4ptUTI4I/s200/SBSH0133.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304133577485539266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;As promised, the pictures with Leo in Chemistry classes are all uploaded. Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't go to the follow-up check-up because I was lazy and somehow I thought I felt better so there's no need to it. Never mind, I will think if I wanna go tomorrow. Secondly, I will keep my hands off my money because I'm running out of it for the dumbest reason: GAMBLE IN CLASS! I mean it's for fun, but still. Haiz haiz haiz. I'm so sad and in such agony because I've been losing quite a lot. No good no good. And boyfriend has been particularly cute when he keeps complaining about me gambling. Heh heh. Never mind. Red in love, black in cards. Boohoo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And and and I AM GETTING A NEW HANDPHONE TOMORROW! But it comes with a prize. Urgh. Ma will only give me a bit of the sum and the rest of the money, I'm just gonna scrape my saving and allowance up. I'm under Ashley's loan by the way. Goddammit. I've come up with my plan for the next month or something. I will give her money once a week and starve myself kinda thing. Yeah like that. Pathetic huh? Nothing is free in this world. Boohoo again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've finished reading the play while the class is still finishing up on it. I can't sleep and even completing the read couldn't even make me any tired or something. Looks like I'm getting used to sleeping early at night, which is a good thing I guess. Ok whatever. I'm going to my room. I'm getting more drowsy already. Wee!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But no more drugs and pills for me. Boohoo.&lt;br /&gt;BUT THEN.. nicotine! Yayweeyay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-7405143911883656223?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/7405143911883656223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=7405143911883656223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7405143911883656223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7405143911883656223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/02/pictures-as-promised.html' title='Pictures as promised'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZwR1Bw2XzI/AAAAAAAACu0/7c2w_K_dGAM/s72-c/SBSH0413.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-255268421652317534</id><published>2009-02-16T23:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T23:18:00.778+08:00</updated><title type='text'>No worse than this?</title><content type='html'>Well, I'm sick. I'm high on my drugs with like 6 pills for every intake which I have to take thrice a day. I have to go for my follow-up examination the day after tomorrow. I got a really pathetic C for my essay which is 20% of my overall grade. I have finals coming this week and the following week. I didn't nicotine for like 2 or 3 days? Except that just now I took a couple of puff to get a glimpse of how it tastes after awhile. I'm still in bed and waiting for my boyfriend to go online quickly because my mom would not let me sleep late anymore. I finished reading 30 pages of A Doll House and I realised my eyes are so steamy because I'm still high on drugsssss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need my boyfriend so much. I can't be without him because I know I can't survive. I have a life with him and I only have one life. I think I'm talking nonsense right now because I'm feeling so drowsy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate school so much! I wanna get out of APU!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-255268421652317534?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/255268421652317534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=255268421652317534' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/255268421652317534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/255268421652317534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/02/no-worse-than-this.html' title='No worse than this?'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-5961948021409807068</id><published>2009-02-14T13:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T13:12:43.910+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What remains the same?</title><content type='html'>I am so hurt, for feeling the unusual feelings. It came me that things don't seem like they are the same anymore and they are failing one by one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's Valentine Day. Yes, who's aware of it? Are you? I teared last night thinking back how things were last year. I teared wondering when I will feel like it is something to me, today. I was so scared. I was so hurt. I was so sad and I wish I could just pass out and be gone for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick again. I was dead sick on '13th the Friday' which everyone said it is an unlucky day. Perhaps me running around in school yesterday tore me down like crazy. I didn't eat or drink much for the whole yesterday and when I reached home after school, I was knocked down. I guess I was never this sick before. And what made it all worse was that what I wanted, was never there for me. I didn't feel what I wanted to feel. I didn't get what I wanted to. I wanted to feel loved but I didn't feel it. And today, I just wished it could be more special. But until now, I am still locked in my room feeling like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a really bad record of temperature that Mama almost made me to go to the hospital, and it was so emotional for me when she used this towel soaked in cold water to put on my forehead. I remembered crying, she kept feeling me and said that I was too feverish that she got very worried. I cried because I know I feel so sick and sad, and at the same time, I don't know how to be hopeful of someone else whom I love. I wasn't okay. I almost gave up on myself. I almost thought I can't do it anymore on my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm just gonna spend the rest of the day, of my Valentine's day in my room. I still have so much undone things to do which I don't know when I will be able to do it. I truly wish I'll get on my foot real soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-5961948021409807068?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/5961948021409807068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=5961948021409807068' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5961948021409807068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5961948021409807068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/02/what-remains-same.html' title='What remains the same?'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-337452914665586977</id><published>2009-02-11T21:22:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T21:58:02.464+08:00</updated><title type='text'>In awhile more</title><content type='html'>I'll be livelier by tomorrow. I promised myself that because I know for the past few days, I haven't been myself. I was very emotional and I cried easily. School has been a bitch, really. A lot of work, academically or no, it's still making me very stressed. Finals are in two weeks time and everyone is running wild because the all-time favourite teacher has been fired- or he resigned- or vice versa. So so so many dramas. Not only that, but it's my friends too that are having the timeeee of their life, being angry at one another, or just bullshit-ing around. Like what the hell. I know right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will soon update my pictures with Leo once I get them back from mama's laptop because I saved them there. Hence, no photots for today. Booo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm reading A Doll House, a Norwegian play for my World Literature class. It's okay though, but I just have to admit that the class is like a good call for sleeping pills, or maybe uh.. it's good with anaesthetizing me. Never mind about that, I'll be getting to my book and read it quick and give my Boyfriend a call or a text. I miss him so very dearly. Sigh sigh sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing is, I won some money playing cards today in school. I sure won a little for myself to eat and get some orange juice for lunch. Muahaha. And lastly, I will be getting a new hanphone very soon. It's not what I wanted but still, I need a change. Here comes my S500i! I'm still wishing.. for a Palm and an iTouch or something like that.. Well you know....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bye!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-337452914665586977?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/337452914665586977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=337452914665586977' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/337452914665586977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/337452914665586977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/02/in-awhile-more.html' title='In awhile more'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-6315784967467616888</id><published>2009-02-11T00:19:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T00:26:26.636+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A pause</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZGqcY_bJgI/AAAAAAAACts/aQDQnP9Etk4/s1600-h/DSCN0453.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301205641113314818" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZGqcY_bJgI/AAAAAAAACts/aQDQnP9Etk4/s320/DSCN0453.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For awhile, people might not be the same. They might start packing to leave the past behind when memories suppose to fade. They have a hard time 'cause they know they need a break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes it hurts them that much to just stop hurting them. It hurts them that much, that much, not having what they want, not being granted what they've been praying for days and nights. They're in such torture. They cry every day, every night. They won't be okay. They won't be okay at all.. but everyone thinks they are just as fine, just as fine,.. just fine...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-6315784967467616888?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/6315784967467616888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=6315784967467616888' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6315784967467616888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6315784967467616888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/02/pause.html' title='A pause'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SZGqcY_bJgI/AAAAAAAACts/aQDQnP9Etk4/s72-c/DSCN0453.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-3768139741241641321</id><published>2009-02-09T00:28:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T00:37:02.985+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I feel goooooood...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SY8Ii3t4qgI/AAAAAAAACtk/-0P2Hcavu9k/s1600-h/SBSH0423.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SY8Ii3t4qgI/AAAAAAAACtk/-0P2Hcavu9k/s320/SBSH0423.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300464681603344898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SY8IZ9sKLFI/AAAAAAAACtc/U-cUSdscmHA/s1600-h/SBSH0424.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SY8IZ9sKLFI/AAAAAAAACtc/U-cUSdscmHA/s320/SBSH0424.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300464528587893842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hahahhahah.. That's so cracked up I know. Hahhahaha. That's me and Jennifer (Leo) in the projector's screen during Chemistry class. My Chem teacher was in charge of the Annual Sports Tournament we had the other time, and he had some pictures taken around and somehow ended up with some unglam photos which we asked him to zoom in. It started with Leo's picture first and I asked him to zoom in so we could capture it. And bloody hell, there was my turn after that. So yeah, somehow I think it's just funny. Never mind then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel really good and proud right now. I went out earlier and bought this MP3 player for mama. I don't know why but it just makes me feel really really really good to hand the mp3 over to her. It was like as though I made her happy, and seeing this unusual sight from her made me even happier. Hehs. *clap clap clap* I asked her to write down the songs she wants and I'm currently downloading all those classicals and 80s-90s hits. Somehow they sound so fine eh? Urgh. Yeah I'm just random so yeah. I might wanna upload more pictures tomorrow or some other times of me and Leo camwhoring. Muahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boyfriend is going to online soon! Yay!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-3768139741241641321?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/3768139741241641321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=3768139741241641321' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/3768139741241641321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/3768139741241641321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-feel-goooooood.html' title='I feel goooooood...'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SY8Ii3t4qgI/AAAAAAAACtk/-0P2Hcavu9k/s72-c/SBSH0423.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-1346895603485980579</id><published>2009-02-07T03:07:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T03:09:54.395+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Overdued pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Here are the pictures of Tet celebration. I didn't know that there's this one factor that I missed for weeks already like that huh. Urghh. It's that I'm back with bangs. Yeah the purpose to say it is that in case people get shocked upon encountering the pictures. Yay! And one thing, they are soooo not in right order, but whatever. I just thought I wanna put up pictures anyway. Goodnight. I'm terribly exhausted. My bed's calling out for me. And I miss my boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyJNLGqyTI/AAAAAAAACtM/cb9LeDBGHvY/s1600-h/IMG_0267.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyJNLGqyTI/AAAAAAAACtM/cb9LeDBGHvY/s320/IMG_0267.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299761720920295730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyJNOFAS_I/AAAAAAAACtU/peIH2LR4peo/s1600-h/IMG_0272.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyJNOFAS_I/AAAAAAAACtU/peIH2LR4peo/s320/IMG_0272.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299761721718623218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyJNCzwu8I/AAAAAAAACtE/6MHRTRVUIa0/s1600-h/IMG_0266.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyJNCzwu8I/AAAAAAAACtE/6MHRTRVUIa0/s320/IMG_0266.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299761718693510082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyJNPKgMXI/AAAAAAAACs8/344ECH9yf8c/s1600-h/IMG_0265.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyJNPKgMXI/AAAAAAAACs8/344ECH9yf8c/s320/IMG_0265.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299761722010120562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyJNKfhx9I/AAAAAAAACs0/ciKH8Cyuqqs/s1600-h/IMG_0264.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyJNKfhx9I/AAAAAAAACs0/ciKH8Cyuqqs/s320/IMG_0264.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299761720756127698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyIzJfoUmI/AAAAAAAACss/5UOkiGQ4MHM/s1600-h/IMG_0263.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyIzJfoUmI/AAAAAAAACss/5UOkiGQ4MHM/s320/IMG_0263.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299761273811522146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyIzPPeAcI/AAAAAAAACsk/cLkFxIuzns0/s1600-h/IMG_0145.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyIzPPeAcI/AAAAAAAACsk/cLkFxIuzns0/s320/IMG_0145.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299761275354350018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyIzPmJ5bI/AAAAAAAACsc/m56d8fkOmSs/s1600-h/IMG_0144.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyIzPmJ5bI/AAAAAAAACsc/m56d8fkOmSs/s320/IMG_0144.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299761275449501106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyIzOq5-iI/AAAAAAAACsU/bZhdkTf-cDw/s1600-h/IMG_0141.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyIzOq5-iI/AAAAAAAACsU/bZhdkTf-cDw/s320/IMG_0141.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299761275200993826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyIyychGEI/AAAAAAAACsM/yJOR-ZsWnSM/s1600-h/IMG_0140.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyIyychGEI/AAAAAAAACsM/yJOR-ZsWnSM/s320/IMG_0140.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299761267624450114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyHTvH-u9I/AAAAAAAACr8/7lFFhqItHpE/s1600-h/IMG_0136.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyHTvH-u9I/AAAAAAAACr8/7lFFhqItHpE/s320/IMG_0136.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299759634645433298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyHToTClFI/AAAAAAAACr0/2f5npJojOuY/s1600-h/IMG_0125.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyHToTClFI/AAAAAAAACr0/2f5npJojOuY/s320/IMG_0125.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299759632812774482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyHTj8qgBI/AAAAAAAACrs/Oj_BSHddy1M/s1600-h/IMG_0122.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyHTj8qgBI/AAAAAAAACrs/Oj_BSHddy1M/s320/IMG_0122.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299759631645179922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyHTyht2sI/AAAAAAAACsE/eSL0Q5myNew/s1600-h/IMG_0137.jpg"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyHTyht2sI/AAAAAAAACsE/eSL0Q5myNew/s1600-h/IMG_0137.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyHTyht2sI/AAAAAAAACsE/eSL0Q5myNew/s320/IMG_0137.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299759635558685378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyHTlvZXUI/AAAAAAAACrk/B6eWieawlgw/s1600-h/IMG_0121.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyHTlvZXUI/AAAAAAAACrk/B6eWieawlgw/s320/IMG_0121.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299759632126401858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyGdxs-d2I/AAAAAAAACrc/lbYK0wqdxBQ/s1600-h/IMG_0120.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyGdxs-d2I/AAAAAAAACrc/lbYK0wqdxBQ/s320/IMG_0120.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299758707624540002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyGdweKB4I/AAAAAAAACrU/cBPlKFHw2qs/s1600-h/IMG_0118.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyGdweKB4I/AAAAAAAACrU/cBPlKFHw2qs/s320/IMG_0118.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299758707293947778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyGdaBtsJI/AAAAAAAACq8/abPEsMFIs1M/s1600-h/IMG_0109.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyGdaBtsJI/AAAAAAAACq8/abPEsMFIs1M/s320/IMG_0109.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299758701269069970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyGdop5dLI/AAAAAAAACrE/rLCLc_zuUE0/s1600-h/IMG_0111.jpg"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyGdoERE1I/AAAAAAAACrM/P-Kqole7DRs/s1600-h/IMG_0117.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyGdoERE1I/AAAAAAAACrM/P-Kqole7DRs/s320/IMG_0117.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299758705037874002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyGdop5dLI/AAAAAAAACrE/rLCLc_zuUE0/s1600-h/IMG_0111.jpg"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyGdop5dLI/AAAAAAAACrE/rLCLc_zuUE0/s1600-h/IMG_0111.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyGdop5dLI/AAAAAAAACrE/rLCLc_zuUE0/s320/IMG_0111.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299758705195709618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyGGHel8AI/AAAAAAAACq0/LJuwlYiRQsQ/s1600-h/IMG_0107.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyGGHel8AI/AAAAAAAACq0/LJuwlYiRQsQ/s320/IMG_0107.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299758301152931842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyGGCWJCMI/AAAAAAAACqs/rCYQSiMmQjU/s1600-h/IMG_0108.jpg"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyGGCWJCMI/AAAAAAAACqs/rCYQSiMmQjU/s1600-h/IMG_0108.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyGGCWJCMI/AAAAAAAACqs/rCYQSiMmQjU/s320/IMG_0108.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299758299775305922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyFvzc8cOI/AAAAAAAACqk/gUxMlecYHmA/s1600-h/IMG_0106.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyFvzc8cOI/AAAAAAAACqk/gUxMlecYHmA/s320/IMG_0106.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299757917820186850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyFvQFVuiI/AAAAAAAACqc/8ihBvWosSkw/s1600-h/IMG_0105.jpg"&gt;  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyFvQFVuiI/AAAAAAAACqc/8ihBvWosSkw/s1600-h/IMG_0105.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyFvQFVuiI/AAAAAAAACqc/8ihBvWosSkw/s320/IMG_0105.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299757908325939746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-1346895603485980579?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/1346895603485980579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=1346895603485980579' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/1346895603485980579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/1346895603485980579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/02/overdued-pictures.html' title='Overdued pictures'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/SYyJNLGqyTI/AAAAAAAACtM/cb9LeDBGHvY/s72-c/IMG_0267.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-5495913821861926266</id><published>2009-02-05T22:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T22:53:05.881+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Every penny counts</title><content type='html'>ARGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! YES YES YES! I finally did it. I finally completed three essays today!!!! I did it! Yes, I feel this good but this exhausting at the same time. Hmm.. Lemme see, I love writing, and this is why for now, writting with be my part-time temporary job. I'm writting essays for the lazy human beings, with a little bit of income. Hehs. I don't mean to say that this is something like bribery or whatsoever. I don't really see anything bad in me doing that, since I love writting and sometimes people just don't want to do what they hate. Yeah contradiction aye. Often rich people do that to just get away for awhile, and I don't really give the best shot to make sure they get an A or B. Whatever it is, I don't want their work to overtake mine if they are written by the same person right! Hmph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I did two Sherlock Holmes essays for my English class, one for myself and another for my classmate. Before World Literature period, my junior came asking me to do one for her friend who's doing Pyschology and she needed me to write about Friendship/Love. Sounds like what I do all the time I guess. Lol. I earned some money for myself and here goes my hard-earned money journey. I'm gonna save all the money that's coming my way so I can start spending them wisely from now onwards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boyfriend is online already! Pooofyyy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-5495913821861926266?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/5495913821861926266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=5495913821861926266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5495913821861926266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/5495913821861926266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/02/every-penny-counts.html' title='Every penny counts'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-150769377613674321</id><published>2009-02-04T21:58:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T22:06:56.640+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Volcano of emotions</title><content type='html'>I'm more than half way done for my World Literature essay. I have already written exactly 540 words and it's not that I'm that stuck to end up here, but it was that I borrowed Rose's VAIO to change my blog song which is on air now I hope? *giggling* so I guess why not take another break to blog and download the song to my mp3. I got to hear it just today and somehow it was so addictive though. During dance class, the instructor introduced this song and we got like a first few steps and and.. the song is so feeeeling that I couldn't resist dancing despite my state during that time. Whatever it is, Leona Lewis's voice is so captivating and the song brings me torment. Hoho. Yeah, whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I have a very big problem with handling my emotions right now. I'm easily urged up for cries because it always seems like I am having this blockage for letting something out from the inside. I had no mood for today's morning classes because I still want some time alone and sleep and feel ready to get up. I had no mood and got pissed so easily, for God-knows-why. I interpreted myself and I boiled down to some of the reasonable reasons:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;I miss my boyfriend too much.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I need my boyfriend too bad.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I think I need money to keep me alive and kicking.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am too miserable. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I still long to see my boyfriend again.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I hate school and I don't want no more essays and written assignments.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have nothing to keep me entertained except Star World, Star Movies, HBO and MTV.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I can't even talk to my boyfriend through Skype.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I can't also log in to my MSN to talk to my friends over at Singapore.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I still have no laptop, no proper earpiece.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I stll want so many things on my list.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Alot more from here...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Well, I guess at this point, I'm very much of a no-life fucker. Why? Because I'm so sad about myself and what's around me. Yes, even though I seem like I'm so happy telling this to everyone, but truly I'm honored to say that I am not. I'm so axious to bring this level of hell into another different place, which I want to call it HEAVEN. Sigh sigh sigh.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I cried watching Grey's Anatomy. I was sort of being in an agony watching it, I don't know why. I think I need my boyfriend besides me in order to watch that favourite heart-breaking and also heart-warming show with me. I mean for God's sake, it was my favourite show but I don't know why I feel such pain watching it now. And yeah, I have a new fav, which is 90210! Yay! I think I love the dramas in it, as I think watching a series of drama which has plenty of dramas themselves can somehow relate to mine as well huh? Ouh wells. And and.. another show that made me teared was Raise Your Voice, a teen movie starring Hilary Duff. God, I think I really need some therapy to get myself in the anti-depression mode. Urgh. Am I very emotional and sensitive lately? URGH URGH URGH.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I hope I can soon fill in a blank of this right here:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;'I won't be happy unless ..... '&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Haiz haiz haiz. Toodles. I'm back to my essay. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-150769377613674321?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/150769377613674321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=150769377613674321' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/150769377613674321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/150769377613674321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/02/volcano-of-emotions.html' title='Volcano of emotions'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-6318282645459742179</id><published>2009-02-03T01:43:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T01:46:50.801+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Draggy draggy draggy</title><content type='html'>Well, hearing your lover's voice before your school bell rings in the morning gives you this feeling which can't be defined, but it feels really good and heart-warming. Your monday blues do get better with just at the voice of the person you miss dearly. Yeah I know, it was expensive but still... Who cares?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah right, two essays due before this week. Good, right? It's like everything still crashes down like usual. Goddamned. I'm so fucking blank as the start of the click to Microsoft Office Word's window. It's very frustrating, when my ideas are there but I have no idea how to put them into proper language which human beings can read actually. I'm such a hapless student trying to run away from the shitty responsibilities eh? Ok never mind about that. I just finished reading three chapters of Don Quixote and my vocabs meter is giving me some ray of joy, really. There were a lot of depth in some particular lines which somehow made me so lost and I think I can just laugh at myself whenever I keep reading that same line over and over again, but in the end I never understand them at all. Haha. Here's one of it, I mean it's not about the Don Quixote thing but yeah..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"&lt;em&gt;The reason of the unreason that afflicts my reason, in such a manner weakens my reason that I with reason lament me of your comeliness&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;No matter how hard I try and I think even Don Quixote, it's not that easy to have a clue how to understand that. Yeah whatever ah eh. The point is I'm gonna be very screwed if I screw-up this last essay with 20% for my World Literature class. And yeah, another essay that I have to start working on is my English essay about Sherlock Holmes. Urgh. I can go crazy! :O&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I am very sad right now. Really am. For just one reason that leads to so many depressions. (Ok I'm just exaggerating) I have no laptop right now. I still forget to ask my friend back for my also-spoilt-but-at-least-better-than-the-current earpiece so I can listen to my music. Music mannnn!! See, now that's two reasons already. But yeah, another thing is that I can't log in to my MSN with this desktop even if I go to ebuddy. I think I'm just down with luck now. And I think that's for now then. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;This week is soooo draggy and how I wish I could 'bungee' with Nad and help her use her money in some possible way. I miss Singapore so much. Hmm.. I still don't really know what's bungee but I just use it because Syahmi and Nad said it was the bloody cool scary thing at Clark Quay. Yeah.. Yay! :(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-6318282645459742179?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/6318282645459742179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=6318282645459742179' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6318282645459742179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/6318282645459742179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/02/draggy-draggy-draggy.html' title='Draggy draggy draggy'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-824563845903394764.post-7094862523785943637</id><published>2009-02-01T15:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T15:53:16.889+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Worst week of my life</title><content type='html'>What's the point of having an mp3 player when all of the earpieces you have are all spoilt? Why the fuck does it have to be so ironic right now? Goddamnit, I would scream it out loud to let go of this whole shits that I'm in at this moment. I want:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;That bloody awesome kick-ass HP laptop&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;New MP3 player with a very good earpiece which will never be spoilt. iTouch!_!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;New handphone, and when I said new, I meant new. I want a Palm! &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;New clothes and new shoes&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A pretty pair of high heels!! &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A leather bag&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;AccessoriesSsSsSsS&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;New watch&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A house and a car and a job.. Okay I think that's utterly random.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;More and more to come. For now, I really wish I could repair my freaking IBM and get all my files and documents transferred out and I can then trade it for my new laptop. And and and, I need to come to good terms with mama before she has the positively high spirits to willingly buy me a new laptop with a smile on her face. Also, Rose! Haiz.. Shit happens for a reason too I guess. Whatever it is, I am totally looking fowards to a whole brand new week coming with lots of assignments to be done. Urghhh. I shall go for my therapy later and get myself all relaxed for my very first monday's blue to come. Frustrated. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Last but not least, I can't exclude my boyfriend anyway. Things are on the brighter note now, and they are back on the right track. Yay! I love me! Haha.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/824563845903394764-7094862523785943637?l=trosaa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/feeds/7094862523785943637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=824563845903394764&amp;postID=7094862523785943637' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7094862523785943637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/824563845903394764/posts/default/7094862523785943637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trosaa.blogspot.com/2009/02/worst-week-of-my-life.html' title='Worst week of my life'/><author><name>Rosa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12540052146051130157</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jfhIHI6KvAs/R6HTTgLBe-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/zzcCGMN7_4Q/S220/DSC01217.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
