<?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-8524362</id><updated>2011-11-10T11:01:24.315+08:00</updated><title type='text'>cOnfUsiNg cOnfesSioNs</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>313</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-114899535704987952</id><published>2006-05-30T21:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-05-30T21:22:37.353+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Loneliness</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;People drain me, even the closest of friends, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;and I find loneliness to be the best state in the union to live in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Margaret Cho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's nothing bad about being lonely... Really.. Have the feeling I might be coming down with something. Throats hurts like hell.. feels like someone stuffed 2 tennis balls down my throat.. Nose and ears are blocked so whenever someone speaks, I'll go like, "HUH!!?? You were saying?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;This sucks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Till I get better and less grouchy.... I'm off to bed. =(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-114899535704987952?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/114899535704987952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=114899535704987952' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/114899535704987952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/114899535704987952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2006/05/loneliness.html' title='Loneliness'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-114597747347865669</id><published>2006-04-25T22:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-25T23:13:46.096+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Faithless.Lost.Numb.Darkness.</title><content type='html'>As I sit down and type this post, I don't know how much longer I will last. After months of struggling and family emotional drama, I'm not sure why and what I am still fighting. It seems to me that everyone has already given up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mum moved out to Aunt's place, Sis is staying over alot at her bf's place and Dad doesn't come home till late at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I'm the only one left.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I've never felt so unwanted.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The silence in the house is so loud. I don't think I can take it anymore. Day after day of facing the same 4 walls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Cold. Empty. Nothing.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always thought if I tried hard enough and work hard enough, everything will change eventually. I thought things will be ok. I'm so wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Broke down again yesterday night in my room. Crying uncontrollably. Thoughts that I thought I've buried deep inside me resurfaced again. Scary thoughts about death and killing my dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Yes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Killing my dad.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've thought about it. Thought about taking a knife and stabbing him in his sleep. Am I very evil for wanting to do so? Or am I just crazy? It scares me how calm I am when I'm thinking about it. Picturing it in my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep hearing the voice in me. Screaming out loud for help but no sound came out. Its telling me to just do it and after that, kill myself too. I've already thought about the letter to my family, or rather whats left of them. Home is no longer a safe place to be in. There's nowhere safe to be in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Its not safe to be alone with my thoughts now.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;All the angry thoughts. I don't want to hurt myself again. I really cannot be alone right now. I don't know what I will do. I cant be alone. Everything in me hurts. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;So painful. So numb. So tired of fighting.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I don't know if I can keep this monster inside myself anymore. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I want to give up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Please don't feel sorry for me.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-114597747347865669?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/114597747347865669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=114597747347865669' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/114597747347865669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/114597747347865669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2006/04/faithlesslostnumbdarkness.html' title='Faithless.Lost.Numb.Darkness.'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-113759562446590319</id><published>2006-01-18T22:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-18T22:47:04.476+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Would you like a toe or an arm?</title><content type='html'>Too tired from work. Have been working 12 hours straight for the past week. Absolutely need some time to rest my brain cells, or rather, what's left of them. Hate the feeling of guilt when friends complain they are not seeing enough of me. I wish i could offer them a piece of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;*tIng cuts her body into several parts. Blood spurts out everywhere.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope they don't mind it cause its pretty bloody.  Would you like a toe or an arm? How about a thigh or an ankle?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;*tIng pulls her hair and screams.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tired. Shall not think. Sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;*tIng crawls onto her bed.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-113759562446590319?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/113759562446590319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=113759562446590319' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/113759562446590319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/113759562446590319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2006/01/would-you-like-toe-or-arm.html' title='Would you like a toe or an arm?'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-112730264207867467</id><published>2005-09-21T19:24:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-21T23:18:20.916+08:00</updated><title type='text'>No longer needed</title><content type='html'>Lately, i've been trying my best to organise my thoughts so as to blog better. However, something at the back of my mind keeps stopping me from doing so. What it is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess its largely due to the fact that people i know are reading my blog and because of that, i cant blog as freely as i used to. I could no longer write about how i truly feel about certain issues and people for the fear that my words may upset them. Therefore, i try my best to sugar-coat my feelings and try my best to be diplomatic towards everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then i realised.. There no longer a need for keeping this blog since it no longer reflects me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been about year since i've started this blog. Most of the entries are sad and about my love life. Since i've decided to start anew, i've decided to move my blog to another address. I hope that by doing so, i'll be able to leave these unhappy and very unwanted memories behind me. I hope my new blog will reflect more of me as a person rather than a sugar coated  one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good luck to me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-112730264207867467?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/112730264207867467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=112730264207867467' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112730264207867467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112730264207867467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/09/no-longer-needed.html' title='No longer needed'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-112702314206168801</id><published>2005-09-18T13:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-18T13:59:02.066+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Insecure</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Sometimes, despite how hard i try to fight it, i'm still hit by insecurity. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-112702314206168801?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/112702314206168801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=112702314206168801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112702314206168801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112702314206168801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/09/insecure.html' title='Insecure'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-112688946526108703</id><published>2005-09-17T00:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-17T00:51:05.293+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Either way.. You'll still die ALONE</title><content type='html'>There are times in life when things happen in a relationship and you'll realise things are never the same anymore. Its like once the paper's crumpled up, it cant be perfect again. From then, things either get better and feelings grow stronger or people may become less attracted/needy/unfeeling towards their other half. Seriously, i don't know which case i prefer things to turn out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i told myself... Either way, you'll still die alone. That made me feel abit better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nowadays it seems i cant get my mind off work no matter how hard i try.. Its like everytime i look at a computer, i have to log on to JobsDB.com to search for more candidates or repost my ads. Even when i'm on the bus/train, i'm still thinking about what to do.. who to call..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I kinda like keeping my mind busy. It helps to stop me from worrying or thinking too much about life, about family or about relationship. Over the years, i've realised i've actually accumulated many pieces of uselss information. For example, M &amp; Ms are invented during the Civil War to allow soldiers to bring chocolates to war without them melting. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*tIng shrugs*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think my brain is the most overworked part of my body.. Wanna trade?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-112688946526108703?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/112688946526108703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=112688946526108703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112688946526108703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112688946526108703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/09/either-way-youll-still-die-alone.html' title='Either way.. You&apos;ll still die ALONE'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-112662147777179315</id><published>2005-09-13T22:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-13T22:24:37.806+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Some thoughts</title><content type='html'>Been kinda busy these days.. Work is getting real hard and i'm trying my best to try to get things done. I miss Daphane. I miss how she always tells me that work is never ending and how is should do more thing for me and not for the company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daphane.. If you see this post.. Mail me.. Where the hell have you been?!! &amp;%$^&amp;amp;^%^**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life's really weird. Sailor and and i just go on as though nothing happened. Its as though we never had an arguement or never attempted to break up. *shrugs* But i guess from all this, its a reminder to me that i should not let another person be the focus of my life. No one's gonna be there when i fall. I came to this world alone and i'll most likely die alone. *shrugs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Been thinking about the song Kelly (Superstar) sang during the Finals. Its called "Bei Ai De Nu Ren". I like the lyrics.. Kinda reflects how i feel right now.. Especially the last line.. "Wo bu shi mei chi shi lian hou, dou neng cong xin zai lai".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*tIng sighs.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If one day, Sailor boy really leaves me, I dont think i'll put myself out there and believe in love. Seeking something that's I cant see or touch is not as practical as getting cash. I'm sorry for being so cold and unfeeling. But that's the way things are right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now i only have one thought..... $30k..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to reach that target. I'm determined to hit that target. I'll prove to people i can do it. Sometimes, i feel that people at work don't really like me. Maybe its because the other new comer is not really very good so everyone is more protective towards her. Whereas on the other hand, i'm coping "too well". So well that i've gotten a very big client within my 1st month. I didn't ask for it. I so happened to pick up the phone at the right time. But anyway, i'm not there to make friends. I'm just there to do my work.. Earn the cash and get out ASAP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'll think freedom is a precious thing but what's freedom to me when i don't feel chained in the first place?! Life's ironic, isn't it? If there's one place i have to name as a paradise in Singapore, i would say its my fave pub. No one knows about that pub except me and the person who brought me there. Its soo quiet that no one in my circle never heard of it. I'm selfish and i wun say where it is. I like to think of it as my special place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its been a long time since i've been there..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss it..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-112662147777179315?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/112662147777179315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=112662147777179315' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112662147777179315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112662147777179315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/09/some-thoughts.html' title='Some thoughts'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-112627990247004200</id><published>2005-09-09T22:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-09T23:31:42.546+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Single.Lesbian</title><content type='html'>Just back from a much need (and much put off) run.. Felt good to clear my mind for a while and concentrate on nothing but going forward. I guess too much happened lately and i've been so numb to feel alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;If you must know, i'm officially single again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time, its different. I did not cry. I did not scream. I did not, for the first time, try to kill myself. I'm kinda numb to everything i guess. I saw it coming too. I knew a part of me die when he said those words to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was angry. Angry at him for making me believe he was ready to settle down with me. Angry at myself for letting me make that mistake of falling into love again and trusting him. I'm angry at him for going back on his words within like 3 months. I'm angry at myself cause i should have listen to my inner voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i forced myself to stop loving him. Its easier once you know he doesn't love you. I just shut him out of my life. Its better this way. I've been hurt enough and i certainly don't need another man to do it to me again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Danny says i should get a tattoo to ease the pain. He's so like me. We both use pain to help us feel better when we are upset. I'm going to see his tattoo artist soon. Just need to decide on the design. When i told Danny that i wanted to pierce my nipple, he freaked out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng laughs.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think i'm going to do that. But if i ever decide to poke myself again, i'm going to do my neck. Just one stud on the back of the neck. I love the way it looks. But then again, i don't have the money and i'll most likely going to lose my job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng frowns.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haiz.. I don't think i'll be able to hide it. Esp since i've sort of decided that i'm going to cut my hair reall short.. just like a BOY.. I don't think i need long hair now that i'm single again. The only reason i kept it long was because Sailor boy didn't like me to have short hair. But now, i guess it doesn't really matter anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've come to the conclusion that i might as well just spend the rest of my life alone. I spent the last 3 months going round in circles only to come back to the same point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Singlehood.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its too tiring to start dating anyone again. I mean, whats the point of trying so hard when they are all going to leave you? Men are selfish creatures. They want you to love them even when they don't want to love you back. This isn't fair. Come to think of it, nothing's really fair these days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think love is like a cup of coffee. If you don't drink it while its hot, its just turn cold and sour. Like me. He kept running from me and in the end, i turned cold and numb to whatever he do. I just shut him out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think i'll just wait for Kongkong to come back. NO.. there's nothing between us. Its just that he's one person i feel really comfortable with. Cause i know all the hurt and pain are all gone and what's left is just friendship. Kong said that if we are single and working, we should get an apartment. And on Fridays nights, we'll throw parties at home. On Sundays, we'll just laze around and be bored. Or on the other hand, we could take trips around. Exploring places like they way we always did. I told him..  Fine.. we can be room-mates but he cant say anything if i bring guys over or he brings gals over. *laughs* I wouldn't be surprised if he starts his naughty nonsense again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm.. Maybe i should fix him up with Daphane or Candice then. Since i like the both of them alot, maybe he'll like them too. And seriously, i think he'll like Candice. Hmm.. i don't know.. Maybe we have different taste in women. *shrugs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always thought i'll move in with Danny when i grow up. But i think he's too happy with his gf and i'll only be a lightbulb in their lives. I saw the way he looked at her that day. The way he kept saying things like "Isn't she so pretty?" or "Isn't she just amazing?" Yes.. He DID SAY THAT. And i knew that's the kind of relationship i want. Still in love even after 3 years! 3 FREAKING YEARS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;My relationship cant even last for 3 months.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng sighs.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there something so fundamentally wrong with me? Am i so unlovable? Do i not deserve love? I don't think so. I don't think i deserve anything less than 100%. I'm a nice person. I give my seats to needy people. I don't smoke. I'm nice to people most of the time. So why am i not getting the things i want?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;FUCK THE FUCKING WORLD.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made myself a little happier today. I went for my manicure and pedicure. And i also went to do my eyebrows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Hey, I just broke up with my boyfriend. I think i should pamper myself a little. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, i think the only relationship i'll be having will be with me. No one loves me more than me. And only me knows what me wants all the time. If there's only one person you could love in your life, i going to love ME. =P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Oh god.. I think just turned into a lesbian. *gasps* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-112627990247004200?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/112627990247004200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=112627990247004200' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112627990247004200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112627990247004200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/09/singlelesbian.html' title='Single.Lesbian'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-112572654717875351</id><published>2005-09-03T13:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-03T13:49:07.206+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rainy day. Vcds. Me</title><content type='html'>Saturday... 1.19pm. Thunderstorm outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was supposed to go to work this morning but i woke up with a terrible pain in my stomach so i msg J to tell her i'm not going back to the office, i'll make up for the hours next week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rested the whole morning.. watched the chinese serial drama that i borrowed from my sis.. Chinese men walking around in the long robes and pigtails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Life has never been better. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng sniggers.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could not concentrate at work yesterday.. My mind kept replaying the words he said to me. I tried to push those thoughts away. Tried to convince myself those are not real. But somehow, they kept forcing themselves on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I nearly gave up the other day. Couldn't bear to hold me in my arms cause i was afraid that i might not be able to let him go. But i knew i should not be selfish. If i really loved him, i should not force him to be with me just to make me happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i let him go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched him from a distance. We stared at each other for some time. Familiar yet we felt like strangers. Maybe i shouldn't have fallen in love with him in the first place. Maybe i should not have let down my guard and believe in love again. Maybe if i have not seen the way he fought to be with me, i would have left him in peace&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember what happened after that. But i knew if i let him go, i will never fall in love again. Because he made me believe love can be so real. But if he's gone, i wouldn't be able to feel again. I'll just live my life as i did before him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Empty inside. Cold and alone. Superficial flings with men who do not even care a damm thing about me. I didn't see a need to feel for them. They are not real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;But he's different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you think i'm wrong? Danny told me the other day maybe he's not ready to settle down. He asked me what do i want? I said i wanted to be with him. Danny told me to get real. If he's not looking for the same thing as me, i'll be hurt. He said it was better to jump out of the well before i fall too deep. Its only a few months.. Yes.. It'll hurt. But its better for both of us in the long run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I don't know what to say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Danny may not be the smartest guy i know. He may not be rich either. Dropped out of school.. Gang fights.. But he always knew what kind of relationship he wanted. He's the other guy i know who is actually looking towards marriage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;IN PRIMARY SIX.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing him like this makes me feel so ashamed of myself. I never knew what i wanted. Relationships were just being together and having fun. How shallow was i.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Maybe i should really think about what i want. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its raining now and i'm alone at home. Maybe i should ask some friends out. &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*considers*&lt;/span&gt; Maybe not. I don't really feel like talking to people now. Lately, it seems, vcds are my best friends. They are there whenever and where ever i want them to be. I can stop them as and when i please. Its so much fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Does it mean i'm becoming autistic? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A psychiatric disorder of childhood characterized by marked deficits in communication and social interaction, preoccupation with fantasy, language impairment, and abnormal behavior, such as repetitive acts and excessive attachment to certain objects. It is usually associated with intellectual impairment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Haha.. Does Excessive attachment to Vcds and deficits in communication and social interaction sound familiar? Next stop... Loony town..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng put on a straight jacket.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright.. I'm just joking. I'm not crazy. No wait.. I'm serious. I'm not crazy..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-112572654717875351?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/112572654717875351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=112572654717875351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112572654717875351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112572654717875351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/09/rainy-day-vcds-me.html' title='Rainy day. Vcds. Me'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-112557684954112515</id><published>2005-09-01T19:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-01T20:14:09.580+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Real World</title><content type='html'>I'm blogging again. Finally. How long has it been i have no idea... I'm sorry i've been away but i guess life caught up with me and left me with no choice but to spend more time in the real world out there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Yes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;The real world.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've switched to an office job now. Given a choice, i wouldn't have taken it up. But i put my love ones before. This job is what my mum considers as a&lt;em&gt; decent&lt;/em&gt; job. I guess she thinks that retail positions are not good enough. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*sighs*&lt;/span&gt; I took up this job cause i was hoping to spend more time with Sailor boy. You know.. office hours.. weekends off.. I thought we could spend more time with each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng sighs again.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still hope one day i'll go back to retail. But i don't see it happening any time soon. Well.. at least not in the next 5 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel fustrated. I feel upset. I don't like the life i'm in. I don't like the things i'm doing. Sometimes, i wonder why am i doing all this shit. I hate my clothes. I hate all the paper work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;FUCK.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just whining again. I know for a fact i cant give up now. I cant quit now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I'm just doing it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things are tough these 2 days. Argued with Sailor boy over something very stupid, which resulted in us not barely talking. He's not eager to meet me. I feel like i've commited some kind of unforgivable crime. I'm working late for 3 whole days. Just an excuse for me not to go home and face the 4 empty walls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng tries to drown herself with paperwork.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who know what will happen if i carry on like this? Maybe one day, some kind person will discover the remains of tIng under a pile of resumes and contracts? I bet they'll have to dig real deep to find me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got alot of shit at work. Screwed up my interview with my candidate. Screwed by my team leader. Then, as if things cant get any worse, my candidate refused to go for the interview... Did not answer my calls..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;FUCK FUCK FUCK..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bad things always comes in threes.. This should end &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;NOW&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;I'm going back to work.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-112557684954112515?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/112557684954112515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=112557684954112515' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112557684954112515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112557684954112515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/09/real-world.html' title='The Real World'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-112308402665635825</id><published>2005-08-03T23:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-03T23:47:06.666+08:00</updated><title type='text'>2 down... 8 more days to go..</title><content type='html'>2 down... 8 more days to go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All i can say is "haiz..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-112308402665635825?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/112308402665635825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=112308402665635825' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112308402665635825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112308402665635825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/08/2-down-8-more-days-to-go.html' title='2 down... 8 more days to go..'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-112291717861533977</id><published>2005-08-02T01:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-02T01:26:18.670+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Byebye Sailor...Byebye Fats</title><content type='html'>My Sailor boy will be leaving me tomolo. Country beckons. Force of one lonely gal is weak against the nation. &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*sighs*&lt;/span&gt; But its ok. Absence makes the heart fonder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, not forgetting, makes me &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;THINNER&lt;/span&gt;. I shall try my best to lose a couple of kilos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng shows a very determined face.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cant believe how much weight i've gained! Gosh.. Its been like 2 months since i last went to the gym and all. Lack of exercise and too much time spent on eating. &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tsk tsk*&lt;/span&gt; Its no good. I must, if not attempt, to lose some weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng pats her big fat belly.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some updates:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've officially moved to Pasir Ris. My room is blood red (as what i've always wanted) and my furniture is all dark brown/black in colour. Several points i've noticed since i've moved in about 2 week ago..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) The air is unusually fresh. I think its because of all the trees around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) There are actually 3 food courts near my house. Have to spend more time trying out all the different stores. (Only at a very controlled level due to diet plans..)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) My place is very ulu. I believe i'm near the edge of the eastern side of Singapore. But then again, i'm not very good at geography. Where exactly is the most eastern point of Singapore?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Durffy's doing fine. Mum bought him a new plastic rollar thingy from Ikea. She placed towels in it so that Durffy can sit in it. She even tied a string so that we can pull it around. Kinda like a snow sledge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still in the process of looking for jobs. Sending resumes and going for interviews. Hopefully something good will come up. &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*cross fingers and pray*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have to go now. Have to continue sending my resume.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng makes a face.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-112291717861533977?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/112291717861533977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=112291717861533977' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112291717861533977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112291717861533977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/08/byebye-sailorbyebye-fats.html' title='Byebye Sailor...Byebye Fats'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-112256464549211565</id><published>2005-07-28T23:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-28T23:30:45.503+08:00</updated><title type='text'>For My Sailor Boy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;For My Sailor Boy..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Someone I know is staring at me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;And when I look into her eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I see a girl that I used to be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I hardly recognise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Cos in the space of a year&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I’ve watched the old me disappear&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;All of the things I once held precious&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Just don’t mean anything anymore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Cos suddenly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;You came, and changed the way I feel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;No one could love you more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Because you came and turned my life around&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;No one could take your place&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I’ve never felt good with permanent things&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Now I don’t want anything to change&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;You can’t imagine the joy you bring&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;My life won’t be the same&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;And I’ll be there when you call&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I’ll pick you up if you should fall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Cos I have never felt such inspiration&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Nobody else ever gave me more because&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;You came, and changed the way I feel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;No one could love you more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Because you came and turned my life around&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;No one could take your place&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I watch you sleep in the still of the night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;You look so pretty when you dream&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;So many people just go through life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Holding back, they don’t say what they mean&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;But it’s easy for meSince you came&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;No one could love you more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Because you came and turned my life around&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;No one could take your place&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;You came, and changed the way I feel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;No one could love you more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Because you came and turned my life around&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;No one could take your place&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-112256464549211565?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/112256464549211565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=112256464549211565' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112256464549211565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112256464549211565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/07/for-my-sailor-boy.html' title='For My Sailor Boy'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-112227948851277409</id><published>2005-07-25T15:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-25T16:47:58.833+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Uncontrollable Rage scares me</title><content type='html'>I think a selfish person. I care too much about myself. All i wanted to do was to protect myself from getting hurt. Even at the expense of hurting others in the process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like yesterday when Sailor boy and i had an arguement. He lied to me (TOTALLY HIS FAULT) and went clubbing behind my back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;If i said i'm furious, that is an understatement &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm very fine with him clubbing without me. But lying? Lying to clubbing doubles the sin. Because i've been through it before. As i sat alone in the train station, everything came back to me. Its like seeing and hearing those words that bastard did and said to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I was paralysed.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fear. Fear that Sailor boy is just like him. Fear that i'll be hurt again and again. I'm selfish. So i wanted to run away from him. As a matter of fact, i run away from anyone who hurts me. I mean, other than myself, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt it again. Those times in my life when rage formed inside me and all i really wanted to do is to hurt myself physically to distract myself from the pain inside me. I think i have problems controlling my rage. I sat at the train station for hours. Cant stand being alone. So i sat there. The people passing by calms me down a little. Cause i know, for certain, i cant hurt myself when there's too many people around. I needed company. Otherwise, i don't know what the fuck i'll do again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I'm crazy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, i wonder if i'm better off seeing a shrink. Or rather, maybe i should find some avenues to vent all the anger in me. Like an empty cup, i just take everything in. One day, i know the cup will overflow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I'm just waiting for that day to come.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe the reason why i cant control my rage is because no one ever taught me to. No one told me i shouldn't hurt myself when i'm hurting on the inside. Like yesterday, i dug my nails into my flesh and i felt so much better. I think Sailor boy is very poor thing. He has to endure all my crazy acts. And he never gave up on me.&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt; NEVER.&lt;/span&gt; Why? I don't know. I don't think of myself as very VERY wonderful gf. I'm not extremely pretty or nice like his ex or sheena. (&lt;-- Point to note, i dont feel that sheena's very pretty. She's just thin. And like what my guy friends would say.. Fuck bamboo.. No offence though) All i see in me are my flaws. My flawed character. I always ask him why he even bothers hanging on. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm always jealous of other people with so many friends. Sailor boy has lots of friends. Secondary sch friends, poly friends, navy friends.. Sometimes, i get jealous. I want friends too. I wished i had friends whom i can count on. But when i look through my phone book, i cant seem to find someone to call when i'm in need. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*wonders*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Or maybe i'm the one avoiding human emotions.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People don't know much about me. Nobody knew i had dyslexia. That explains why all the mistakes i make in my blog. I didn't acknowledge this until Sailor boy pointed out that i read the mag wrongly. "Why i was my boyfriend's ATM" became "Why i was my boyfriends AIM" Its not that i cant see. But somewhere inside my brain, words and numbers get mixed up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng shrugs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, thats not a problem at all. In fact, alot of smart people have dyslexia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;So i'm considered smart eh? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-112227948851277409?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/112227948851277409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=112227948851277409' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112227948851277409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112227948851277409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/07/uncontrollable-rage-scares-me.html' title='Uncontrollable Rage scares me'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-112204433377852252</id><published>2005-07-22T22:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-22T23:26:19.686+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Updates</title><content type='html'>Couple of things to update about my life..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Durffy's not doing very well. He's paralysed from neck down. But we (mum, sis &amp; I) have absolutely no plan to put him down. No way. Its not an option. Mum brought Durffy to the temple the other day and the "shifu", upon seeing Durffy's condition, decided to convert him to Buddhist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Yes. That's right. Durffy's a Buddhist now. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng sayang Durffy.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He even got a new toy from the temple. Its a little thingy that plays buddhist chants. All the efforts are supposed to help Durffy to be reborn a human instead of an animal in his next life. I told Durffy the other night that if he should be reborn, he should come back as my son. I told my mum this and she told me that they are usually reborn within 49 days after their death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng faints and foams at the mouth.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This mean should Durffy leave us one day, i'll have less than 49 days to get myself pregnant! Gosh.. So stressful! Told Sailor about this and asked him if he's feeling the pressure. His reply? "Don't worry, i think i can produce lots of sperms."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Looks like i'm the one feeling all the pressure. Men have it sooo easy, don't they?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must remember to thank this reader of my sis's blog. He/she, upon reading about Durffy's condition, gave us money for his treatment. I'm deeply grateful for his kindness. Now we can get Durffy a new pram! I'm gonna bring him to Pasir Ris park for walks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talking about this, we'll moving soon.. Very soon... Will be out of my aunt's place by the end of next week. Not much things to move to my new place. I came here with a box. I'm leaving with the same box. &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*shrugs* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went for 4 interviews yesterday.. Quite interested in the Advertising firm.. They are offering $2k during training and after confirmation.. $2.8k!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng drools at the thought of all the $$$$$$.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow.. i think i can do alot of stuff with all the money. New furniture.. new tv.. &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*slurps*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many things changed within this month... I hope i make it through this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-112204433377852252?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/112204433377852252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=112204433377852252' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112204433377852252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112204433377852252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/07/updates.html' title='Updates'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-112161466913249195</id><published>2005-07-17T23:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-18T00:22:58.453+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Changes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;The one song that i feel like my life now..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I'm not supposed to be scared of anything,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;But I don't know where I am&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I wish that I could move but I'm exhausted&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;And nobody understands (how I feel)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I'm tryin' hard to breathe now,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;But there's no air in my lungs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;There's no one here to talk to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;And the pain inside is making me numb.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try to hold this under control,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;They can't help me, cause no one knows. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Now I'm goin' through changes, changes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;God, I feel so frustrated lately.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;When I get suffocated, save me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Now I'm goin' through changes, changes &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Feelin' weak and weary&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Walkin' through this world alone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Everything they say every word of it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Cuts me to the bone, (and I bleed)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I've got something to say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;But now I've got nowhere to turn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;It feels like I've been buried&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Underneath all the weight of the world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I try to hold this under control,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;They can't help me, cause no one knows.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Now I'm goin through changes, changes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;God, I feel so frustrated lately&lt;br /&gt;When I get suffocated, save me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Now I'm goin' through changes, changes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I'm blind and shakin', bound and breakin'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I hope I'll make it, through all these changes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-112161466913249195?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/112161466913249195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=112161466913249195' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112161466913249195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112161466913249195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/07/changes.html' title='Changes'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-112161443958387510</id><published>2005-07-17T23:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-18T00:22:03.340+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes</title><content type='html'>There are times in my life when i feel absolutely alone and i like it. Its just one of those days when i like to avoid human contact. And this includes my mum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are reasons why i don't really feel close to my mum. As i've mentioned before, our relationship became very distant after i starting working. Especially since we don't see each other much due to different working hours. And there are times when i really wonder what does she think of me? Like this afternoon for example. I dragged myself to the temple for her even though i've hardly slept for the past 2 days. But when she introduced my sister and I to other people, she just went on and on about my sister being a journalist from SPH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes. I know.. On the surface, it sounds like a very important and decent job. And i can tell from my mum's tone, she's really proud of my sister. I am too. But she didn't even bother to introduce me or what i do. I know the sales line is not what my mum considers as "decent". But hey, its paying alot of stuff ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Sometimes i feel like a fucking atm to my mum. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Even though i'm not a uni graduate or whatsoever, i'm still her daughter ok. And reasons why i'm not in uni? I'm don't have the &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;FUCKING MONEY.&lt;/span&gt; But anyway, i knows she doesn't mean it. I try not to take it to heart. But it happened so many fucking times. I guess i should be numb to it by now right?! So i walked off after everything by myself. Went to PS alone to watch a movie. I'm happy being alone. Fucking hell, i simply enjoy my own company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't pick up all their calls today. Just don't feel like talking to any of them. I'm afraid i might blow up or break down. Either way, its a goner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng shrugs and walks off.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Just leave me alone.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-112161443958387510?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/112161443958387510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=112161443958387510' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112161443958387510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112161443958387510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/07/sometimes.html' title='Sometimes'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-112144490021753403</id><published>2005-07-16T00:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-16T00:28:20.226+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I won't give up on Hope.</title><content type='html'>My dog, Durffy, is dying too. He has lung cancer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng lets out a bitter laugh.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How ironic. If this is God's way of telling that i should give up hope on everything else now, he has done it. I'm losing hope in everything. How many more pain must he put me through before he's satisfied? Does he really want to see me broken into pieces?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng's eyes fills up with tears.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;NO.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;I will not be pushed to the edge and back again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;I will not. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He can put as many obstacles as he like. I don't give a damm about it. I'll stay and fight him. I wun give up hope. I can give up anything and everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Anything BUT Hope.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No life will be worth living without Hope. And i will not be reduced to a empty shell without a soul. Even when everything around me threatens to fall apart, i will still stand here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I'll stand right here. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I won't give up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-112144490021753403?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/112144490021753403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=112144490021753403' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112144490021753403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112144490021753403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/07/i-wont-give-up-on-hope.html' title='I won&apos;t give up on Hope.'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-112136080096172082</id><published>2005-07-15T00:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-15T01:06:41.016+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gangster Auntie</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;This post below may contain explicit content and strong language. Those with a weak heart may wish to switch to a more friendly site. Parental Guidance is strongly advised.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Tonight, i'm gonna break the language barrier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng puts on her thinking cap and sticks an imaginary cigarette to her mouth.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its late. Its 12.28am right now and i'm still job hunting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right. I'm a soon-to-be-jobless gal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng weeps.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;KNNCCB.&lt;/span&gt; The stupid &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;mother-fucker&lt;/span&gt; auntie (my lady boss's mum) spoke ill of me to my lady boss. In the end, everything i kanna. And i lost my job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;MOTHER FUCKER SUCK MY CHEEBYE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng points her left 3rd finger.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;Nabehz.&lt;/span&gt;. She think i young easy to bully right? Damm hell she's wrong! She blardy fuck chose the wrong gal. I gave the the &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;ATTITUDE&lt;/span&gt; right back at her face! &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*points right 3rd finger*&lt;/span&gt; She think just because she's older she can talk nonsense and cause me my job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng uses a pair of pilers and pulls Auntie's nails out ONE by ONE. Then she takes out a knife and slices Auntie into many thin pieces. tIng then uses the knife to dismember Auntie, chucking her limbs into big black plastic bags. tIng takes out a shove from her tool bag and starts digging a hole in the ground below her. She carries what's left of Auntie's body and buries her, leaving only Auntie's head exposed to the surface. tIng takes out jar of honey and drizzle it over Auntie's head. Ants starts to crawl all over Auntie's face.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;KNNCCB&lt;/span&gt;. She make me sooo &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;KNN DU LAN&lt;/span&gt; till I wanna slap her and tell her to &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;SHUT HER CHEEBYE&lt;/span&gt; mouth up. This is the very first time i screamed at an old folk. Usually, i'm a very nice person. I stand up to give my seat to an elderly on the train or bus. I'll help them cross the road if they need help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I'm a nice person. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that doesn't mean you can bully me! Auntie thinks she can gangster me cause she's the lady boss's mum. She's &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;FUCKING WRONG!!&lt;/span&gt; tIng doesn't gives a damm about who you are! You bully me, you'll get it from me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng kicks Auntie's honey-coated head twice.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So what if you are old?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt; BIG FUCK! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll NOT allow myself to terrorised by gangster Aunties. I'll NOT suffer in silence anymore. It's time to fight back and stand up for myself. Enough is enough!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng coos to Auntie: "So you still wanna tell tales about me? Or do you wanna beg for mercy?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;SUCK MY CHEEBYE LARZ!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng pulls Auntie's  hair and slaps her repeatedly.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; I wish i can do that in real life. But the sanity part of me tells me if i do that, i'll never be able to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Enjoy my monthly pedicure&lt;br /&gt;2) Wear nice colourful undies (Black &amp; White are not colours)&lt;br /&gt;3) Shower with hot water&lt;br /&gt;4) Wear pretty earrings&lt;br /&gt;5) Wear nice heels&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the sake of all the above, i shall let Auntie live a couple more years. I'm not worried about revenge. Karma... Karma...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;Liers get their tongues cut in hell.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-112136080096172082?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/112136080096172082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=112136080096172082' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112136080096172082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112136080096172082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/07/gangster-auntie.html' title='Gangster Auntie'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-112118754907749359</id><published>2005-07-13T00:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-13T00:59:09.130+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Grandma</title><content type='html'>Here i am sitting in front of my sis's laptop blogging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;FINALLY. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should have blogged long ago about certain things but i kept putting it off  i'm not really sure of how to put my feelings into word. Feelings that i cant come to terms with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;My grandma has lung cancer. And she's dying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how to react to this. When my mum told me over the phone, i was thrown into confusion. I blanked. Really. I didn't feel sad straight away. It took awhile to sink in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;My grandma is dying. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;D-Y-I-N-G&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No cure. Nothing can be done. No one knew she had cancer. Not even my uncles and aunties who see her everyday. What the fuck? How am i going to deal with it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat and thought about it. I thought about those times i spent with my grandma and all the stories she told me (in Hokkien) about the WW2 and Lee Kwuan Yew. (&lt;-- He's one of my grandma's fave... loves to talk about him).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Then i cried. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm losing her and i can do nothing about it. I'm going to see her fade away from me. I'll have to watch her die day by day. Slowly. Unlike my grandfather who died suddenly. I don't know which is worse/better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watching a loved one die slowly or having them leave you suddenly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both happened to me. I guess both are jus as difficult. Not being about to say goodbye to my grandfather was very upsetting. Watching my grandma die and not being about to do anything about it just sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I feel helpless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Helpless against death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as i am helpless against alot of the other things in life. I'm pissed. I knew i need to do something for my grandma. So i bought her a bracelet made of beads from Tibet. It was supposed to have healing powers. I wanted to her to have it so that when she's going through treatment she'll not suffer so much pain. My grandma didn't have a very good life. She came from China years ago when she was a young girl. She didn't know her birthday cause back then in China girls weren't very important. Neither was their birthdays. All she knew was her birth year. She's 82 this year.  She couldn't read or write her name. But grandma was a very strong and capable woman. She brought up her children and ran a prawn noodles store. Even when she was old, she took buses and trains to all over Singapore to look for her friends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Ain't she amazing?! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to marveled at the amount of energy my grandma has. I suspect that she knew more bus routes than me or my sis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;But now, i have to watch her die. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I'm losing her. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng pulls her hair.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else can i do? What the fuck can i do? Can someone please tell me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-112118754907749359?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/112118754907749359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=112118754907749359' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112118754907749359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112118754907749359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/07/my-grandma.html' title='My Grandma'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-112100946030220610</id><published>2005-07-10T23:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-10T23:31:00.340+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Miserable</title><content type='html'>I've never felt more miserable in my life. I'm cold. I'm very hungry. And my heels are hurting me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finished work ard 8.30pm. Had this very ugly fight with Sailor Boy over sms. He told me he didn't know what the fuck i want and told me to stop msging him for a moment. So i did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wanted to pick me up.. i told him i don't wish to see him (which of course like all gals, i'm being stubborn) But at 8.30pm.. No sight of him. I walked Irene to Watsons to get her body lotion, hoping he'll show. Still no sight of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Walked to the bus stop.. Or i should correct myself.. I limped to the bus stop. 8.39pm.. Sailor Boy is with his friends at Bugis. No reply sent to him. (He told me not to msg him for a moment. He didn't define how long was a moment.) *shrugs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got on the bus.. Very hungry.. Felt like eating chicken congee but didn't wan to eat alone. Felt like crying but i cant for a few reasons. One, I don't have tissues. Two, my mascara will smudge. Three, i'm in public only crazy people cry in public. Four, i cant go home with my eyes red. My mum will be worried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-112100946030220610?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/112100946030220610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=112100946030220610' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112100946030220610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/112100946030220610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/07/miserable.html' title='Miserable'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111962731759956796</id><published>2005-06-24T23:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-24T23:35:17.693+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Slightly below Boiling Point</title><content type='html'>Things have been hellish this week. Not being able to see Sailor boy was one thing. Sharing him with lots of other people over the weekend is another. I should be awfully happy that he's spending the whole of Sunday with me. So taking into consideration 2 hours today and maybe like 10 hours on Sunday, that's like about 1/3 of the weekend. &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I like maths. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I like thinking of stuff in terms of probabilities and fractions. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng shrugs.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tore the back pocket of my jeans today. &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*sighs*&lt;/span&gt; Its really sucky. I refuse to get a new pair of jeans so i'm down to just ONE good pair. Not because i cant afford them but i just rather save the money for more important things like new washing machine and fridge for the new flat or the paint for walls.. Damm i hate rich brats who don't have to worry about money. Being about to buy whatever you want.. Change new handphones.. Buy lots of fun stuff when i have to work my&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; ASS OFF&lt;/span&gt; for those measly bit of commission.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;SMILE. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Things could be worse. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I could be sell my soul to the devil. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Not to mention my body to dirty ah peks along Joo Chiat Road. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work..... morale is low cause sales is bad and the thought of all the bills, new specs for mum and blah blah blah is just accumulating to form a very big snowball that's gonna fall on me anytime. Felt very weak physically throughout the whole of this week.. No longer coughing in the night but feverish and light-headed during the day and my tonsils are swelling. Maybe i'm just tired. I dumped the thought of going to the doctor's cause i don't think that will be very helpful. Its jus a waste of time and money. Especially when the clinic is NOT near my aunt's place. I'm not going to travel ALL the way to Simei. No way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Over my dead body.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Literally. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to be like those old and alone aunties. I rather die at home. &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*laughs out loud*&lt;/span&gt; I don't  really mean that. I'm joking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng lies flat on her bed.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Maybe i'll stop feeling giddy if i just stop MOVING. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111962731759956796?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111962731759956796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111962731759956796' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111962731759956796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111962731759956796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/06/slightly-below-boiling-point.html' title='Slightly below Boiling Point'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111953759323061449</id><published>2005-06-23T22:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-23T23:23:27.423+08:00</updated><title type='text'>MOVING</title><content type='html'>I'm moving AGAIN. The keys to my new flat will be collected on July 25th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;One more month..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;One more FUCKING month..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cant wait till the day we move so that i can:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Enjoy walking around NAKED in MY ROOM.&lt;br /&gt;2) Enjoy blasting music in my room when i'm NAKED.&lt;br /&gt;3) Sleep NAKED, while blasting music in MY ROOM.&lt;br /&gt;4) Surf net when i'm NAKED in MY ROOM.&lt;br /&gt;5) Admire my NAKED body in MY ROOM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See.. this is why i need a room to myself.. I need the freedom to be about to express myself physically. I'm such an exhibitionist. &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tsk tsk*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, i've already thought about how my room should look. Blood red walls.. Just a table a bookshelf, cupboard and my bed. A small mosaic mirror prehaps? I'll like my new room better. I never liked my previous room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, i liked the idea of moving. I never felt anything for the old apartment. I didn't grow up there. No childhood memories. All memories there are dark and somehow painful. Painful past of growing up with literally no friends. Afternoons i spent alone in my room. Nights i spent lying awake in my bed till i hear the sounds of buses coming from below. Times i spent banging my head against the wall, trying to figure out what exactly was wrong with me. Times i stabbed the table with a craving knife cause i couldn't find other ways to vent the anger in me. (thankfully i was cowardice that i did not stab myself.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I had a difficult time growing up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Growing up alone without friends. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People i know always talked about their friends from their school days. I never talked about my school friends. I never talked about how i used to hide in the toilet during recess cause i was too afraid to go out. I never talked about the senior gals who threatened to beat me up in school. I never told anyone about the times my heart pounded quickly the minute i stepped into the school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;It was a lonely time.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;4 years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;4 FUCKING years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All these time, i kept myself very far away from everyone. Even my family. In my poly days, i was constantly working. I rarely had time to spend with my parents. I was too busy with work and studies. Too tired when i reached home to even carry out a conversation. I can see why i never felt close to my family like the way i did when i was young. 7 years is a long time. Working since i was 18 years old not only made me financially independent but emotionally independent as well. I don't run to my mum when things go wrong. I don't cry in front of her when my relationships failed. I dont't go to her when i'm feeling exhausted physically and mentally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I just deal with it in my own way. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Silently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my own way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its not like they were not there for me. I just didn't think it was necessary to go to them. Its actually my choice. My way of handling my stuff. I don't think mum will handle my suicide attempts very well if i ever told her. I have a feeling tht she might want to send me to a shrink again. She almost did that when i was Sec 3. She cant handle my emotions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think they'll understand the fact that i don't need them emotionally. In fact, i think me not needing them emotionally resulted in me not being about to feel as much for them as i would like to. 7 years i've spent emotionally distant from my family. Did i have i choice? &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*considers seriously*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If i was given a chance to turn back time, i wouldn't change a single thing. Like i've always said, my experiences made me a stronger person. Made me who i am today. I'm happy being who i am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, i'm leaving the past behind. A brand new start. No more crying alone in the middle of the night. No more feeling of intense anger or extreme saddness. I'm looking forward to moving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111953759323061449?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111953759323061449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111953759323061449' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111953759323061449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111953759323061449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/06/moving.html' title='MOVING'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111841827451475881</id><published>2005-06-10T23:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-10T23:54:44.820+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pink Elephant in the Room</title><content type='html'>Jus reached home from dinner with Sally and Yanwen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng wipes beads of sweat off her forehead.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What can i say? Its is definately the most awkward situation i've gotten myself into. &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*sighs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; Dinner with my boyfriend's ex-gf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cant face her.. I cant even look at her straight in the face without thinking about Sailor boy. I was staring at my food and the table! &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*tIng slams her head against the table.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW ON EARTH DID I GET MYSELF IN THIS SITUATION?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was nothing to talk about. Nothing. I cant bitch about my love life cause my love life happens to involve her ex-bf. Dinner was like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Complain about food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crack stupid joke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More complaints about food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More stupid jokes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More and MORE complaints about food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng bangs her head against the wall repeatedly.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was like there was a&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt; PINK ELEPHANT&lt;/span&gt; in the room but we &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;CANT TALK ABOUT IT&lt;/span&gt;. We all know whats going on between me, Sailor boy and Sally. But we just avoided the topic. I cant bring it up. Neither did Sally bring it up. So we just pretended nothing was &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;WRONG.&lt;/span&gt; In fact, i've pretended nothing was wrong for the past few weeks. Despite constant nagging from Yanwen, Steph and Daphane, i simply put of the idea of telling Sally anything about Sailor boy and me. What can i say? I couldn't find my balls and i cringed at the idea of telling her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And its fucking hell torturing me. Until today........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm begining to wonder how long i can carry on doing this.. Seriously having doubts about my current state of mind. If love makes a person crazy, i think i already am going out of my mind. As a matter of fact, i not only going out of my mind. I'm falling APART.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng knocks herself with a hammer, breaking up into a million pieces.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was close to the point of crumbling... After Sally and Yanwen took off seperately after our dinner, i tried hard to breathe again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;DEEP BREATHS..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEEP BREATHS..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ONE.. TWO.. THREE..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was almost sure that i was going to get one of those panic attacks again.. Those times when you suddenly start to panic for no apparent reasons. Feeling that you are under attack. I get those every once in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng tells herself: "Calm down...Its only psychological. Its all in your head only."* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sat at the kerb of the road for awhile before i managed to calm down enough to call mum to pick me up. And I made it home..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Home sweet home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Home safe home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Safe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111841827451475881?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111841827451475881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111841827451475881' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111841827451475881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111841827451475881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/06/pink-elephant-in-room.html' title='Pink Elephant in the Room'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111772231937039126</id><published>2005-06-02T22:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-02T22:25:19.410+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Aye Aye Sailor</title><content type='html'>There are some days when i feel that i'm being consumed by boredom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Its killing me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;S-L-O-W-L-Y&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to find something to do. A new piercing perhaps?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng examines her right ear.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think there's room for&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt; ONE&lt;/span&gt; more stud.. Jus &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;ONE&lt;/span&gt; more.. I would have pierced my nipples long LONG LONG time ago but after some considerations on the effect it might have on my future kids, i gave up that idea. You wouldn't think that more holes meant easier breast feeding, would you? &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*raises her eyebrow* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Sailor boy is nowhere near land. He was supposed to be on&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt; LAND&lt;/span&gt; ard 7pm. But right now, he's still floating&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt; SOMEWHERE&lt;/span&gt;.... &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;OUT THERE&lt;/span&gt;, in the middle of &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;WHO KNOWS WHERE&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng shrugs and pouts*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its hard dating a sailor. Especially when there's not mobile reception on South China Sea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;CAN SOMEONE FROM THE GOVT PLEASE FIX THAT PROBLEM? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But i guess its kinda good that he's  not around that much. Its makes us treasure the times we have together. Not wanting to waste any minute or second that we are together. I think we wun take each other for granted, like other couples..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111772231937039126?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111772231937039126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111772231937039126' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111772231937039126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111772231937039126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/06/aye-aye-sailor.html' title='Aye Aye Sailor'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111739010199801153</id><published>2005-05-30T00:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-30T02:08:22.056+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Birthday Post</title><content type='html'>Once again..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK.  Enough about my whole birthday hoo-ha.. Shall blog about what happened over the last few days..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steph came over last tuesday to help me do some last minute packing cause we're moving on the 25th. Cant believe that my mum chose to move house on&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt; MY BIRTHDAY&lt;/span&gt;. Trying to make it more memorable right? *&amp;^^%$#@&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was packing when i realised how much stuff i don't need. Threw away lots of stuff. At the end, i was packed ALL in ONE BOX.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Me = One Box&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng considers.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are times that i feel like packing up and running away. Grab my passport and head to some foreign country. Experience things.. Meet people.. Listen to their stories. Like the character Alice/Jane in "Closer". Packed up and left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I wish i could do that too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think i'm not that type of person who clings on to old stuff. I used to keep stuff.. until one day i realised that all these physical things doesn't really matter.. Its the memories that stays with me that are important. So i dumped everything. I don't like to dwell on things. It's not good for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway.. Back to where i strayed..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woke up in the middle of the night and realised i was having a fever. My throat felt like i had 2 ping pong balls in stuck in there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng points her 3rd finger and pouts angrily.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nabehz... Am i really that suay to fall sick on my birthday? I cant believe that it was happening! I popped 2 panadols, hoping that the fever will go off. Unfortunately, it didn't. The next morning, i woke up feeling weak, feverish and in cold sweat. Damm.. There's not enough bad words to describe how i was feeling. The closest word i can think of is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;FUCKED. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes.. Ladies and Gentlemen.. My vocab is very limited. So i can only think of &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;"FUCKED"&lt;/span&gt; to describe the situation. Having no choice, i stayed in bed and slept till 6pm. Cant believe i spent my birthday, SICK and sleeping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 6pm, i forced myself out of bed. I simply refused to cancel my Zouk night because of my little sore throat. So i got dressed, did my make-up and made my way to MW to pick Steph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reached Zouk ard 10.40.. Actually met Issac on the bus down to Zouk.. What coincidence. He gave me my birthday present... 20 small paper boats and one big one in a black paper box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Touched = Yes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Going back to him = No. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw no point carrying on a "thing" that i cant find word to describe. Basically had a fun time at Zouk. The minute i stepped in, i felt  better. No need to medication. No need for doctors. Maybe i should consider going Zouk everytime i'm sick?! &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*considers*&lt;/span&gt; Bought drinks for everyone before i headed to the dance floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Happy -&gt; Cause i can mambo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Sad -&gt; Sailor Boy is not with me. (Name has been changed to protect the innocent.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Disappointed -&gt; Didn't see Ng Chun Kiat. Wanted to slap him and tell him the only mistake i made in my 21 years is to be with him. *sniggers*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a great time.. Even though not many people turned up, i still had fun. Actually, i saw alot of people at Zouk. People like my friendly neighbour Chang qi, commandos like James and Spencer and blah blah blah. So many people wished my happy birthday and wanted to buy me drinks. &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*giggles* &lt;/span&gt;I'm not lonely on my birthday.. (Even though i desperately wished that Sailor boy was with me... &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*whines*&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was actually quite disappointed because none of the GV people came. Not a single one. But then again, i shan't let this bother me too much. I'm the most important person on my birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;And i was happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stayed over at Steph's place and we went to work the next morning feeling sick.. Actually, i was just abit tired. She was sick. Very sick. Poor Steph. Must be me who spread the virus to you. &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*sayang Steph* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After work, we took bus 36 home. Somehow, i had the wrong impression that bus 36 goes to Katong area. I was wrong. It didn't stop anywhere near my aunt's place. I ended up taking the bus all the was to Changi Airport and back again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng congraulates herself for her stupidity.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nevertheless, i still managed to get I, me and myself back at my aunt's place. Still in time for DINNER. Ah yes..... HOME COOOKED DINNER.. Its been a long time since i had HOME COOKED DINNER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;HOME&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;COOKED &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;DINNER&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its not really a feast or anything. But i'm contented. I'm satisfied with a simple fare. I think i'm very easily contented these days. I don't have very high expecations anymore. I think it makes my life easier and also HAPPIER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sailor boy coming back tml.. Countdown begins!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday.. Was secretly hoping the day will pass quickly cause my Sailor boy is coming back at 23.59am. Waiting for him to reach LAND has been tough. But i managed. I look forward to seeing him everytime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reached home.. Ate dinner.. Showered.. Did his present.. Wanted to surprise him.. Waited patiently for his call. And when he did, i literally jumped out of my seat! &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*laughs*&lt;/span&gt; Don't get me wrong. I jumped out of my seat not because of excitement but cause my phone was on the other table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we talked for a while.. went to bed ard 2.30am.. woke up at 7.30am.. took a cab to meet Sailor boy for breakfast!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I hate myself....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm scared. Why am i behaving this way? Be still, my heart. I'm worried. Worried about me. Worried about how real this feeling is. Worried about him and other gals. Worried about everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know. I don't know what will happen in the future. All i know now is i feel happy when i'm with him and he makes me laugh. I feel comfortable being with him and it feels so real. For the first time in many months. It actually could be real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;And i'm scared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;*tIng sighs.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sailor boy sent me to work after breakfast. Missed him.. Work work work.. He came to pick me after work... So sweet that i'm dying of diabetes already.. Gosh.. Went for dinner..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Heart racing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Cant stop smiling. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Blushing. &lt;- Note: This is not a gd sign. I cant believe i blushed. My face and ears turned red, i think he didn't notice cause the lights were dim. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its not good right? All the signs of falling in love are there. Yet i refuse to acknowlegde them. I don't want to admit anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Stubborn = Yes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Scared = Very Yes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng sigh..*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe i should think about this again.. Oh before i forget.. Durffy learnt to climb the stairs today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;*tIng pats Durffy on the head*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Well done boy....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111739010199801153?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111739010199801153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111739010199801153' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111739010199801153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111739010199801153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/05/post-birthday-post.html' title='Post Birthday Post'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111686600454512759</id><published>2005-05-24T00:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-24T00:33:24.600+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday Eve!</title><content type='html'>I'm feeling kinda low. Nothing seems to be right. Its like one day to my birthday and i cant even feel the excitement in me. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*sighs*&lt;/span&gt; I kinda wished that i could be alone on my birthday but i cant. So when i had to decide on the venue, where else but ZOUK!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love that place. I love the music. I love the dance. I love everything about it. I wanna spend my birthday at Zouk. Lots of people could not come. That's the whole point. I don't wanna spend my day entertaining people. I don't care who's coming. If they come, we'll have a good time. I'm not going to beg everyone to come. I wanna enjoy myself. I know i'll enjoy myself at Zouk. I dunno.. I just feel that my birthday is no big deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday i had to celebrate my birthday at my aunt's place. Its not that i don't like company. But i was really tired after work and i had to rush to get my own cake. Yes. The birthday gal had to buy her own cake. Not much people turned up. It wasn't even a dinner. Everyone's eaten by the time i got there. Had to cut my cake asap cause people are waiting for the cake. (No one even bothered to ask me whether i had eaten. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*)&lt;/span&gt; Relatives too busy playing mahjong to even sing me birthday song. Children playing. I had to keep smiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Yes. Keep smiling.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though i was hot, sticky and tired.. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*sighs*&lt;/span&gt; I know.. I'm not much of a big deal. But i was hoping for abit more. Just wished that they could make me feel abit more special.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;It sux.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The feeling sux. The "party" was more of an obligation rather than me enjoying myself. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*slams her head*&lt;/span&gt; It was like celebrating for the sake of doing so. No one was especially interested in me. Or what i wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, its ok. I'm used to that. I just need to whine about it now. I know i'll get over it soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;SOON.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope i'll enjoy myself at Zouk more. I jus wanna hide somewhere. My heart aches and i'm sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111686600454512759?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111686600454512759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111686600454512759' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111686600454512759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111686600454512759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/05/happy-birthday-eve.html' title='Happy Birthday Eve!'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111686256070242695</id><published>2005-05-23T23:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-24T00:35:34.613+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Social Suicide</title><content type='html'>People always says absence makes the heart fonder. I dunno if its true right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Time will tell. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Heaven knows. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wun say anything now cause i'n not sure of my own feelings. If you ask me, i'll smile and shrug my shoulders. Am i really willing to give up my freedom as a Singleton? Have i had enough of partying? Have i gotten use to loneliness that i'll feel &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;LONELY&lt;/span&gt; without it?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng sighs.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't wanna make the same mistakes i've made again. I wan to be sure of what i want.. what i need and not just jump into anything. In case i fall again..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng jumps up and down.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its official.. I'm gonna be moving at the end of the month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;End of late night suppers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;End of clubbing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;End of social life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Social Suicide. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think i'll be a very good gal and go home every night for dinner. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*frowns*&lt;/span&gt; I'm not upset that i'll have to go home early. I'll love spending more time with my cute nieces and nephews. I'll love to put them to bed every night. But i know that there will be times when i need my own &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;SPACE&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Space to think.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Space to hang out with myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Let all the whirlwind in my head settle down for a moment. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe not to think. Just stone in alone in my dark room, light a candle, put on jazz and empty my thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Blank. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Empty. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng sighs.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just being difficult again. Spoilt brat. Never contented with what i already have. I should be thankful for having a roof over my head. Why am i complaining?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng pretends to punch herself.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone cares for a fruit punch?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111686256070242695?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111686256070242695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111686256070242695' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111686256070242695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111686256070242695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/05/social-suicide.html' title='Social Suicide'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111668208517193964</id><published>2005-05-21T21:09:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-21T21:36:15.970+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Is Over-Rated</title><content type='html'>I always think that people live their whole lives searching for the one they wan to fall in love with. Everyone has a frame. A little frame of what kind of person who we wan love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are all looking for that&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt; ONE&lt;/span&gt; picture to fit the frame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We try to describe that picture. We use words.. words like outgoing, smart, tall, dark, handsome, rich, caring etc.. But what if we cant find that perfect picture? What if that perfect picture looks right but &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;doesn't feels right&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;? You get what i mean? You may find a guy/girl that fits all the above adjectives. But does it mean that you'll feel right about him/her?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know. I've been dating for the past 5 years.. I've dated young boys.. older men.. rich men.. poor men.. Jerks.. Bastards.. What do i get out of all this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Nothing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Absolutely Nothing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well.. Not exactly nothing if i take in the fact that i've been through countless heartaches, much too many messy breakups and not to mention the utter waste of my &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;TIME&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I think love's over rated.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe we should all just stay single and have commitment free relationships? Less hassle.. Less pain.. Less of the feeling of floating in thin air whenever we hear their voices.. Less of everything..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng gets scared.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If i continue to be cynical and critical of love, i'm going to die &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;SAD AND ALONE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng digs a grave for herself.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*sighs*&lt;/span&gt; I have a feeling that being cynical is that &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;ONLY&lt;/span&gt; thing that'll keep me sane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Well.. At least sane for now.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111668208517193964?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111668208517193964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111668208517193964' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111668208517193964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111668208517193964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/05/love-is-over-rated.html' title='Love Is Over-Rated'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111625753649477124</id><published>2005-05-16T23:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T23:32:16.500+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/117/2042/640/Image_08.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/117/2042/320/Image_08.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SoaKinG uP thE sUn&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111625753649477124?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111625753649477124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111625753649477124' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111625753649477124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111625753649477124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/05/soaking-up-sun.html' title=''/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111625574846540053</id><published>2005-05-16T23:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T23:02:28.473+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sex with An Ex</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Sex with an ex can be depressing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;If it's good, you don't have it anymore. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;If it's bad, you just had sex with an ex. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111625574846540053?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111625574846540053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111625574846540053' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111625574846540053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111625574846540053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/05/sex-with-ex.html' title='Sex with An Ex'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111599817555967243</id><published>2005-05-13T23:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-13T23:29:35.566+08:00</updated><title type='text'>New link</title><content type='html'>Check out the new SATC link on the side...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111599817555967243?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111599817555967243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111599817555967243' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111599817555967243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111599817555967243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/05/new-link.html' title='New link'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111599675436924822</id><published>2005-05-13T22:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-13T23:05:54.416+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday the 13th</title><content type='html'>If one more thing go &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;WRONG AGAIN&lt;/span&gt;, I'm going to &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;KILL MYSELF&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng sticks her head into a microwave.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was awaken by a msg around 8 plus in the morning ..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kit:&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to thailand for bi-lateral training. Be back on 30th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tIng:&lt;br /&gt;What about my Birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kit:&lt;br /&gt;What about your birthday?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tIng:&lt;br /&gt;25th May Wed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kit:&lt;br /&gt;Aiya. It wun make a differance even if i'm not there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tIng:&lt;br /&gt;Ok&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went back to sleep. Really couldn't be bothered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Sleep is much more important. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.00am.&lt;br /&gt;Woke up.. Decided to wear my new white dress with my white strappy heels to make myself feel better. Left my house.. On my way to work, i received a msg from Marcus asking me how i was. Happily, i replied telling him i wore my &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;LOVELY&lt;/span&gt; white dress today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marcus:&lt;br /&gt;I dont think you look nice in dress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*A very BIG bucket of water poured onto tIng.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There i was, in my nice new dress, and he just and to say those thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;FUCKING HELL.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okie. Its ok. Everyone has their own opinions. I can handle them.. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*takes deep breathe*&lt;/span&gt; Don't worry.. Everything will be fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, here comes a series of freakish accidents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Freak Accident #1:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Burned my finger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Freak Accident #2:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knocked my head with a metal rod.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Freak Accident #3:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tripped over a wire while walking pass Suntec on my way home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought by the time i reached home i would be safe.. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tsk tsk*&lt;/span&gt; I was never more wrong. Apparently, the "curse" followed me home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Freak Accident (Home) #4:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knocked my head while mopping the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Freak Accident (Home) #5:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Burst the seams of my &lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;NEW WHITE DRESS&lt;/span&gt; while bending over to pick up something. I know i've on a &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;LITTLE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; weight but bursting my seams?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng points her 3rd finger.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;That's it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've enough. I'm not going to step out of the house until the clock ticks exactly 12.01am. I cant believe how many bad things can happen to one person in &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;ONE DAY&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng crawls into a tiny box and sticks a &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"DO NOT DISTURB"&lt;/span&gt; sign on the box.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111599675436924822?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111599675436924822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111599675436924822' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111599675436924822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111599675436924822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/05/friday-13th.html' title='Friday the 13th'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111582603224420458</id><published>2005-05-11T23:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-11T23:56:51.803+08:00</updated><title type='text'>French Vs Singapore</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;Was talking to Kong over Msn when he started telling me about his friends who are currently in a "trial &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=RELATIONSHIP" target="_blank"&gt;relationship&lt;/a&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng gives a face.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the fuck?! Trial &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=RELATIONSHIP" target="_blank"&gt;relationship&lt;/a&gt;s? What are the young people these days thinking? Its either you are in a &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=RELATIONSHIP" target="_blank"&gt;relationship&lt;/a&gt; or you are not. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Yes or No.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;What's with the trial &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=RELATIONSHIP" target="_blank"&gt;relationship&lt;/a&gt;s? So what happens when the "trial &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=RELATIONSHIP" target="_blank"&gt;relationship&lt;/a&gt;" doesn't work out? Do you get money back guarantee? Or credit vouchers? Seriously, i have no idea what people think these days.. Steph tells me i'm old &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=FASHION" target="_blank"&gt;fashion&lt;/a&gt;ed. Yes yes.. I agree..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm an old &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=FASHION" target="_blank"&gt;fashion&lt;/a&gt; romantic. I want to lie on the &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=BEACH" target="_blank"&gt;beach&lt;/a&gt; and go star gazing with my guy. I want to go saga seed picking with him. I want to go &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=KITE" target="_blank"&gt;kite&lt;/a&gt; flying and &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=PICNIC" target="_blank"&gt;picnic&lt;/a&gt; with my guy. I'm into the lady/gentleman kind of &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=RELATIONSHIP" target="_blank"&gt;relationship&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Go aheah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laugh all you want. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;I'm sick and tired of the &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=DATING" target="_blank"&gt;dating&lt;/a&gt; scene in Singapore. Its always dinner then movies. Or movies then dinner. &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=SHOPPING" target="_blank"&gt;Shopping&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=SHOPPING" target="_blank"&gt;shopping&lt;/a&gt; and more &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=SHOPPING" target="_blank"&gt;shopping&lt;/a&gt;. Can it get anymore boring than this? Why can they do like the &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=FRENCH" target="_blank"&gt;French&lt;/a&gt; people?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think a &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=DATE" target="_blank"&gt;date&lt;/a&gt; should be like this..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He'll pick me up from &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=HOME" target="_blank"&gt;home&lt;/a&gt;.. (Of &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=COURSE" target="_blank"&gt;course&lt;/a&gt; i would like to have a horse carriage but i think that'll would be pushing my luck!) &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*giggles*&lt;/span&gt; We'll go to a nice restuarant, nothing too fancy or posh.. Just a nice and cosy place.. After dinner, we'll take a stroll in the &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=PARK" target="_blank"&gt;park&lt;/a&gt; or by the &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=BEACH" target="_blank"&gt;beach&lt;/a&gt;.. And then we can just chill out there.. Star gazing.. Slow dance in the &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=PARK" target="_blank"&gt;park&lt;/a&gt;..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;AWwwW...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards, he'll send me &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=HOME" target="_blank"&gt;home&lt;/a&gt; and at my door, he'll politely ask permission to kiss me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng blushes.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=COURSE" target="_blank"&gt;course&lt;/a&gt; i would say yes.. But only lightly on the cheeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's official. I'm crazy right?! I'm just crazy enough to believe a guy would actually do that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng bangs her head against the wall repeatedly.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wake up! Its never gonna happen. Singapore guys are just that obsessed with sex that they'll take their pants off faster than i can say the word "Hi". &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tsk tsk*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I give up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should start &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=DATING" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;dating&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt; foreigners.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've already started. I just got a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=FRENCH" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;French&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=PEDICURE" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;pedicure&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's F-R-E-N-C-H.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111582603224420458?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111582603224420458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111582603224420458' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111582603224420458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111582603224420458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/05/french-vs-singapore.html' title='French Vs Singapore'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111578949315285174</id><published>2005-05-11T13:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-11T13:31:33.160+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nap Nap Nap</title><content type='html'>Desperately need to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Reformat my com..&lt;br /&gt;2) Need to pack my room..&lt;br /&gt;3) Laundry&lt;br /&gt;4) Mop floor&lt;br /&gt;5) Catch up on my reading&lt;br /&gt;6) Revamp my blog&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many things to do.. So little time..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just the thought of these makes me very TIRED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think i'll take a nap.. Ciao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111578949315285174?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111578949315285174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111578949315285174' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111578949315285174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111578949315285174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/05/nap-nap-nap.html' title='Nap Nap Nap'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111573722589330073</id><published>2005-05-10T22:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-10T23:04:40.710+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Numb</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;You have lost too much in life and never expected the good it has to offer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Now You block out emotions as much as you can,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Trying not to get hurt once again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Numb.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;No desire.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;No expressions. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111573722589330073?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111573722589330073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111573722589330073' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111573722589330073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111573722589330073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/05/numb.html' title='Numb'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111573417961890782</id><published>2005-05-10T21:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-13T23:34:13.073+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother Nature Works In a Strange Way</title><content type='html'>All of a sudden, i'm bombarded by many triangle &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=RELATIONSHIPS" target="_blank"&gt;relationships&lt;/a&gt; thingy. Carrie and Burger.. Steph and &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=BUNNY" target="_blank"&gt;Bunny&lt;/a&gt;.. Me and Kit.. Then i started to think...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;What exactly is right or wrong when it comes to having 3 persons in a relationship? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you met and feel someone who's already with someone, would you:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A) Steer clear and wish them all the best&lt;br /&gt;B) Try hard to win his/her heart&lt;br /&gt;C) Wait for him/her to come to their senses and realise you are THE ONE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng considers all the options very seriously.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not too sure which one i'll choose. I think i'll most prob deny any feelings i have for that person and try to remain sane. Cause judging from ALL the Hongkong dramas i've watched, no man EVER left their wife/gf for the third party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unless, the wife/gf dies of&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Cancer&lt;br /&gt;2) Accident&lt;br /&gt;3) Murdered by some sicko&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng shrugs.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See.. Its never gonna happen. Men will never leave their sig other for the 3rd party. And chances of them dying is near to &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Z-E-R-O.&lt;/span&gt; Maybe i should plant a bomb and try to kill her?! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*evil laugh*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, then again.. Its not worth getting in jail because of a man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, according to SATC, feeling something for someone who's attached may be God's way of telling you there's still someone &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;OUT THERE&lt;/span&gt;. Or the other explanation could be God's telling you that all the &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;GOOD ONES ARE TAKEN&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng points her 3rd finger.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suspect that there are lesser &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=MEN" target="_blank"&gt;men&lt;/a&gt; in the world, so somehow we gals end up having to share all of them.. Damm.. Why cant we have equal number of gals and guys? Would things be easier? Obviously Mother &lt;a href="http://searchmiracle.com/search/search.php?qq=NATURE" target="_blank"&gt;Nature&lt;/a&gt; is not very motherly now and not doing her best now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;FUCKED UP. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng walks away, shaking her head.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111573417961890782?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111573417961890782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111573417961890782' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111573417961890782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111573417961890782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/05/mother-nature-works-in-strange-way.html' title='Mother Nature Works In a Strange Way'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111566008370416393</id><published>2005-05-10T01:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-10T01:34:43.903+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gay dogs are better than Men</title><content type='html'>Put up a very VERY sexy pic of me legs on Friendster 2 days ago just for fun. And you know what? Within 48 hours, i've received 70 over hits and 4 new friendster msgs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng raises her eyebrow.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men are such visual animals. Just because i've put up that pic, i'm suddenly very popular?! Gosh.. If you ask me, i think men are ruled by their heads... Dickheads to be exact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng shrugs her shoulders.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry.. I'm such a sexist. Maybe that's because i have not met any guy who haven tried to get me in bed with them. At the moment, i think very lowly of men in general. I think my dog, Durffy, is more evolved than them. Well, at least he doesn't try to fuck every bitch he sees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng pats Durffy on his head and coos: "Durffy, you are going to die a virgin.. Poor You."*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe the reason why Durffy isn't fucking every bitch he sees is because he's &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;GAY&lt;/span&gt;? How do you tell if a dog is gay? &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*considers*&lt;/span&gt; Seriously speaking, i've never seen two male dogs fucking each other..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng scratches her head.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe its time to gooogle this topic. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;GAY DOGS PORN. &lt;/span&gt;I wonder what will come up?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111566008370416393?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111566008370416393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111566008370416393' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111566008370416393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111566008370416393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/05/gay-dogs-are-better-than-men.html' title='Gay dogs are better than Men'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111548185976549100</id><published>2005-05-08T00:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-08T00:04:19.786+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Attack of the Unknown</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Panic Attack. Period.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111548185976549100?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111548185976549100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111548185976549100' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111548185976549100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111548185976549100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/05/attack-of-unknown.html' title='Attack of the Unknown'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111514305022714363</id><published>2005-05-04T01:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-04T01:57:30.230+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring Cleaning in Progress</title><content type='html'>There are times when i find it impossible to keep up with the lives of all my friends. Even close friends like Candice, Daf, Huilin, Feng and Shiwei.. Things changes everyday.. every minute..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Literally every fucking second. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thought of trying to keep myself update with all of them is tiring. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*phews&lt;/span&gt;* So i kinda have to filter people out of my life. Unimportant people like ex classmates whom i've never spoken to...Random people who "pops" in and out of my life every now and then.. Strangers whom i've never met but sort of knew that they existed..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've just looked through my friendster a/c, my contacts on my hp and my Msn messenger.. For a person who have only been on this Earth for 21 years, i've made a hell lot of friends from all over. Sch friends, work friends, friend's friends....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How the hell am i going to keep track of all of them while trying to keep my room clean, my laundry washed and not to mention &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;TRY TO MAINTAIN AN ACTIVE SOCIAL LIFE? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng bangs her head against the wall, knocking herself unconscious.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;The solution: SPRING CLEAN. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the last hour, I've:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Deleted strangers whom i've never met from my Friendster&lt;br /&gt;2) Deleted ppl who i never call or msg from my hp&lt;br /&gt;3) Deleted unimportant ppl from my MSN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There.. Now i'll focus on building quality relationships with ALL my friends. Quality than Quantity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng pats herself on the shoulders.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well done..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Point to all:&lt;br /&gt;If anyone is upset when they realised i've left them out of my life, I'm sorry. Ring me or msg me again.. I'll try harder to be a better friend. =P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111514305022714363?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111514305022714363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111514305022714363' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111514305022714363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111514305022714363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/05/spring-cleaning-in-progress.html' title='Spring Cleaning in Progress'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111452626272458676</id><published>2005-04-26T22:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-26T22:37:42.726+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What fruit would You be?</title><content type='html'>Been thinking.. If i were a type of fruit, what fruit would i be? Could i be a watermelon? Or am i an orange? Would apple be me? Maybe i should be like a pear?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng gives this issue very serious thought.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After much considerations, i finally came to the conclusion that i should be a durian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Why?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cause like a durian, i'm very protective of myself. You know, thorns to protect myself.. Like a durian, it takes alot to break me down. I don't open myself very easily to others. But once you get to know me, you'll realise that i can be very sweet inside. Also, not everyone likes me but there are those who are my die hard fans. I'm also very hardy.. capable of surviving unfavourable conditions..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok Ok.. this may not be the most romantic fruit among all the other fruits. Some gals are strawberries.. Nice, sweet, pretty.. But what good is it to be a strawberry when you are easily bruised?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;What fruit would you be?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111452626272458676?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111452626272458676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111452626272458676' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111452626272458676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111452626272458676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/04/what-fruit-would-you-be.html' title='What fruit would You be?'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111436082363235668</id><published>2005-04-25T00:33:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-25T00:41:16.880+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Big 21</title><content type='html'>Many of my friends are celebrating their 21st birthday with much excitement &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*sniggers*&lt;/span&gt; I'm supposed to be looking forward to my birthday, which is like a month away. I'm supposed to tell people where and when i'm holding the celebration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;BUT...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;There's a BIG BUT.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;What if i decide that i want to die before my birthday?! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng considers this seriously.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't be mistaken. It's just a thought. I don't know what's going to happen in a month's time. I don't know for certain i'll be alive!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng walks away, shaking her head.."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111436082363235668?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111436082363235668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111436082363235668' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111436082363235668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111436082363235668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/04/big-21.html' title='The Big 21'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111435975457779253</id><published>2005-04-25T00:04:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-25T00:41:50.803+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Full Time Housewife, Part time Chiongster</title><content type='html'>Was home very early yesterday night even though it was Saturday.. No plans.. No clubbing.. Stayed at home and washed clothes and mopped my floor. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I'm turning into a full-time housewife, part-time chiongster.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodness.. I actually felt asleep at exactly 12.45am! I'm a boring person who stays at home and do housework on Saturday nights. Had a very strange dream.. I was on top of this very very tall building and had to jump down from the roof. It was something like a stunt that i had to do. At the ground floor, someone placed this &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;veRy VERY SMALL&lt;/span&gt; safety mat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng raises her eyebrow.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my dream, i was thinking, &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"WHAT THE FUCK?!"&lt;/span&gt; So small mat how to jump? What if the wind direction suddenly changes while i'm in mid air? Why cant they just put a &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;BIGGER&lt;/span&gt; mat?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck fuck fuck.. If i have to do it, i'll do it even it kills me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng licks her finger and tests for wind direction.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i jumped off the building and................&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I WOKE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt; UP&lt;/span&gt;. Crazy dream or just a sign of insecurity?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wonder...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111435975457779253?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111435975457779253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111435975457779253' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111435975457779253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111435975457779253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/04/full-time-housewife-part-time.html' title='Full Time Housewife, Part time Chiongster'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111410447920346526</id><published>2005-04-22T00:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-25T00:43:08.233+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom - Wash, Mop and Clean</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Haven been blogging much.. I must apologise.. &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;Wait a minute.. &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;Why should i apologise? &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;Its my blog.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway... Was at Zouk yesterday. Melissa got so drunk and she kept clinging on to Marcus. Poor Marcus.. He had to take care of her the whole night. Trust me.. She's not easy. She's &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*uhmm..*&lt;/span&gt; kinda big... If you know what i mean. I don't have the strength to carry her at all. So it was basically up to Marcus to keep her from falling over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate it when gals get drunk. I've already made it known to &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;EVERYONE&lt;/span&gt;. The next time someone gets drunk, i'll just leave him/her alone.&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I WILL NOT:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;1) Accompany them to the toilet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;2) Hold their hair when they throw up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;3) Search high and low when they go missing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;4) Sit with them till they sober up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;5) Send them home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had enough. I'm there to dance. I'm there to enjoy myself. I'm there to have a good time. I'm am &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;NOT&lt;/span&gt; there to babysit people who cant handle their drinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I'm sick and tired of being their mother. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I quit. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Been clubbing alot lately cause i just dunno what else to do at night nowadays. Too late for movies.. Too late for shopping.. Simply nothing to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I'm bored. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I get bored very easily. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I need some distractions.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of distractions.. I'm kinda caught in a cleaning frenzy lately. As my maid is no longer working for us, i've been busy washing my clothes and mopping the floor. Everytime someone asks me out, i tell them i cant go cause i have to go home and wash my clothes. I don't dare to use the washing machine cause its missing one leg &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;(CRIPPLED!!) &lt;/span&gt;and therefore makes a &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;HELL LOT OF NOISE&lt;/span&gt; when it's switched on. My only resort was to wash all my clothes.. I mean &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;ALL MY CLOTHES&lt;/span&gt; by hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must say this. I'm not very good at washing my clothes. I cant seem to get them clean. I'm never sure if the bubbles are &lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;soap bubbles&lt;/span&gt; or just &lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;water bubbles&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; I got so fed up with washing my clothes, i simply gave up and stopped using detergent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;How did people ever survive without the washing machine? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has gotten to a point where i thought maybe i'll just stop wearing clothes. I'll just wrap myself in some disposable plastic wrap as and when needed. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that's not possible so i knew the only solution.. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;GET MORE CLOTHES&lt;/span&gt;. Well, at least more undies! I bought another 4 undies from Topshop again. I simply adore those colourful underwear! Cant live without them! If Topshop ever stops producing them, i'll stop wearing undies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Relax.. I'm joking. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I maybe an exhibitionist but i'm not that crazy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My com is lagging. I have to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng walks out, taking her laudry with her.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111410447920346526?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111410447920346526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111410447920346526' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111410447920346526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111410447920346526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/04/mom-wash-mop-and-clean.html' title='Mom - Wash, Mop and Clean'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111367488865188367</id><published>2005-04-17T01:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-17T02:08:08.656+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Guilty as Charged</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng walks into the room, coughing badly.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many days has it been since i last blogged? More than a week? &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*gasps in horror*&lt;/span&gt;  Its like the first time since i was away for so long! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*guilty look*&lt;/span&gt; Let me try to recall wat happened over the week.. Here it goes..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Sunday, 10th April&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to Changi Village with Steph cause she had to take some photos for her project.. Wanted to try the so-called famous Nasi lemak.. We walked around for like an hour and then decided we weren't hungry. Instead, we sat down at little pub called Friends (if i remembered correctly.) Had 2 drinks .. vodka orange and vodka cranberry.. I nearly puked when i tasted the vodka cranberry.. Tasted like cough syrup.. eWWW&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng sticks out her tongue.. PUI PUI PUI*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sat there for 2 hours plus.. After one drink, i was abit tipsy and suddenly felt like telling everyone how much i loved them! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*giggles*&lt;/span&gt; So i mass-msged everyone in my phonebook.. "I'm drunk.. Haha.. I love you" Its just one of those silly things i do when i'm tipsy. Played pool for a while before we headed home..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Tuesday, 12th April&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off day.. Sudden thought. I should have pink hair. Went to Hairitage to cut and highlight my hair &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;PINK&lt;/span&gt;. Yes... Its &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;PINK&lt;/span&gt; highlights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng toss her pink hair around.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No special reason to why i dye my hair. Just felt that it was the right thing to do at that point in time. Like that time i wanted to have my belly button pierced..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Wednesday, 13th April&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zouk night again.. Met the usual gang.. Army boys (Marcus, Eric, Spencer..etc).. Work friends (Steph, Amanda, Chase, Mag etc).. Clubbing Khakis (Melissa... ) So many people! I was so busy walking around talking and dancing with different people. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*phews*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng wipes the beads of sweat of her forehead...*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, my mambo night was cut shot because Steph was drunk AGAIN (for the ten millionth time!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng grinds and bares her teeth.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sooo pissed when i couldn't find her! Seriously, when i finally found her, i soo wanted to chide her in front of everyone. But then i simply grabbed my bag from the counter and dragged her home with me. It was &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;1.30am&lt;/span&gt;. Damm. I was not even on the dance floor for more than one hour. Fucking hell..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Friday, 15th April&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to Changi Village yet again with Steph.. Wasn't feeling all that well.. Maybe its because i hasn't been sleeping much these few days.. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*cough cough*&lt;/span&gt; My nose was blocked and my lungs were stuffed. Went back to the pub Friends.. Played pool with Steph and her brother.. Had one drink only BUT i was gone within minutes. I suspect it was because i was sick.&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt; *shrugs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Saturday, 16th April&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ate &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Kit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt; kat&lt;/span&gt; at work today.. Am officially addicted to &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;Kit &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Kat&lt;/span&gt; NOW! Even though i was coughing madly, i still ate it. Counter poison with poison. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*evil laugh*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Even if i die, i'm going to die a happy, chocolate-stuffed singleton! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jus got back from Su Ken's chalet at Pasir Ris.. It was her 21st birthday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng throws balloons into the air and set fireworks all around.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KEN!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was at the chalet when i received a call from Spencer, telling me to meet them at ChinaBlack. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*considers*&lt;/span&gt; I was tempted.. &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;VERY TEMPTED..&lt;/span&gt; In head my head, there's one voice telling me to go down, have fun and get stoned. Another voice was telling me to go home, do my laudry and iron my clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I listened to the second voice.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i came home, did my laudry and ironed my clothes. I'm a freak. I was about to iron my undies when my mum walked in and asked me why i was ironing my undies. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; What can i say? I just like my clothes to be crisp and clean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng sticks out her tongue at you.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mopped the floor.. Took my medicine.. Waiting for the effect to kick in.. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*yawnz* &lt;/span&gt;I'm going to bed..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111367488865188367?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111367488865188367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111367488865188367' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111367488865188367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111367488865188367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/04/guilty-as-charged.html' title='Guilty as Charged'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111315258726837236</id><published>2005-04-09T00:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-11T01:03:07.270+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Been there.. Done that.. So Over that..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;Was playing the song "Stop crying your heart out" when i suddenly thoought of my friend, Stephanie. We were at Zouk the other night and she had a glass too much and starting crying. From what she said that night (which was kinda of difficult to understand due to the the influence of alcohol), its about this guy who did not call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng takes out a sword and waves it around.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Better not let me see this guy.. Otherwise, some of his body parts is going to come off. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*swish swish* &lt;/span&gt;According to Stephanie, she was together with this guy for a period of time but the guy called it off because all this time he was in love with another gal. But even though they have broken up, the guy does not like it when she starts seeing some other people or receive calls from other male friends. And right now their relationship is like &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;together yet NOT together.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;(the GREY area.aka.dangerous zone for ALL relationships)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng bares her teeth.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know.. I know.. You all think that my friend is stupid for carrying on with him right? I think its more the guy's fault cause he was in love with someone else but he's the one who chose to start this relationship. And he shouldn't stop my friend from seeing other people cause he has absolutely no right to. He's basically using her as a spare tyre.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;But then again, we all want spare tyres, don't we?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; We all want someone to be there in case we don't get the guy/gal that we want. Its human nature to be selfish. We all want more than what we need.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Greed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;That's what will lead to our downfall. In love.. In life.. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*sighs*&lt;/span&gt; Why cant we be contented with what we have? Steph told me that the guy's reason for not calling that night was that he fell asleep very early. I couldn't tell her what was going on in my head. I was thinking that the guy most prob was out with the gal that's why he din call. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; Maybe i'm just being cynical again because of what happened. Its kinda sad seeing her like this cause i've been through the same situation and i know what it feels like. Trust me.. It ain't fun at all.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I have my doubts about men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng walks off, sighing.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111315258726837236?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111315258726837236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111315258726837236' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111315258726837236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111315258726837236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/04/been-there-done-that-so-over-that.html' title='Been there.. Done that.. So Over that..'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111288685190890609</id><published>2005-04-07T22:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-07T23:14:11.910+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ghosts and Karma</title><content type='html'>Okie.. My whole upper body aches so much that it hurts even when i breathe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHY?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cause i party too hard yesterday night! *giggles* Went to Zouk yesterday with Stephanie, Weiqi, Amanda, Kit, Eric and their friends. Had a very vERY good time. Really enjoyed the music and the crowd. Drank 3 lychee martinis and 1 volka orange... Yummy.. I'm so proud of myself. I didn't let myself get drunk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*tIng pats herself on the back.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love retro music! Love it so much that i can listen to it all day.. Come to think of it, i love old old stuff.. the music.. the colourful clothes.. the accessories.. Sometimes, i feel like an old soul, even though i've only been on the surface of this Earth for 21 years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or could it be i'm actually possessed by some ghost? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*tIng shivers at the thought of ghosts.* &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway.. As we can all see the tag board at the side is filled with some guy/gals opinion of me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just who he/she thinks i am.And what he/she thinks is really his/her business. But i've decided to keep it all there. I think they'll remind us to be kinder to others around us. There this thing in the world call "Karma". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*tIng mumbles to herself: "Karma.. Karma.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111288685190890609?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111288685190890609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111288685190890609' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111288685190890609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111288685190890609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/04/ghosts-and-karma.html' title='Ghosts and Karma'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111271602530821889</id><published>2005-04-05T23:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-05T23:47:05.310+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The World is Full oF Strange People</title><content type='html'>There are many kinds of people in this world. Some of them want to use you. Some of them want get used by you. Some of them want to abuse you. Some of them want to be abused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the guy/gal who has been posting on the tag board wants to verbally abuse me till i:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Break down&lt;br /&gt;2) Cry&lt;br /&gt;3) Write mean things about him/her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; The world is full of strange people who wants to be abused. I haven reached the point where i have to lower myself to abuse people so that i can feel happy about it. Clearly, he/she has issues about me. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*considers seriously*&lt;/span&gt; If i'm really like what he/she says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Ugly&lt;br /&gt;2) Selfish&lt;br /&gt;3) Overall a very bad person such that no one will ever love me again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;WHY IS HE/SHE READING MY BLOG EVERYDAY?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trying to break me? I've been through worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng walks away, shaking her head.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111271602530821889?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111271602530821889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111271602530821889' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111271602530821889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111271602530821889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/04/world-is-full-of-strange-people.html' title='The World is Full oF Strange People'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111253880472137386</id><published>2005-04-03T22:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-03T22:40:12.546+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm in a violent mood.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I'm in a violent mood.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng draws a sword from her belt and starts sharpening it.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I'm mentally unstable. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Run. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Run Fast.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Don't look back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I'm coming after YOU. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng chases after you, stabbing you repeatedly with a toothpick.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*evil laugh*&lt;/span&gt; Pain lehz... Jon said that i should find something to do to release my emotions. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*considers*&lt;/span&gt; Stabbing someone with a toothpick seems like a harmless activity. Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111253880472137386?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111253880472137386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111253880472137386' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111253880472137386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111253880472137386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/04/im-in-violent-mood.html' title='I&apos;m in a violent mood.'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111245061246650223</id><published>2005-04-02T21:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-02T22:03:32.466+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Has Reached a New Low</title><content type='html'>On the train back home, i started thinking about people and what they are worth. Nowadays, everything has a price tag on it. So do humans have price tags on them too? Some babies are sold for money the minute they were born. Some people sell their bodies on the streets. Different people are paid different salaries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;So how do we determine what we are worth? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;What am i worth? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Maybe i'm not worth anything. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The more i think about this, the more upset i was. It was to a point where i just felt like sitting down in the middle of nowhere and start crying. I had to bite my lips to stop myself from crying. I felt like i was not worthy of being loved by anyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then i tried calling people on my phone, hoping to find some comfort. First, i called Shaun (who actually promised to call me today, which he &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;DID NOT&lt;/span&gt; and i'm so pissed i deleted his number).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;No comfort.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, i called Issac. He was with friends. Will call me back tomolo. Asked me to msg him when i reached home. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Still no comfort.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, i called Jon kong. He was driving. Asked me whether i had anything important. Lied to him that everything was ok. No problems. Will talk again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Still no comfort.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, I called Kit. Handphone was turned off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKING COMFORT.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each time i put down the phone, the more i feel like screaming. I felt more alone now than ever. I give up. Everyone is too busy to bother about Meiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Life has reached a new low.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, if i've killed myself today, would they feel guilty? Would they wished they've spent a little more time talking to me? Next time when someone calls to talk, maybe we should spend a little time talking to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng sighs and walks out of the room.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111245061246650223?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111245061246650223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111245061246650223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111245061246650223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111245061246650223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/04/life-has-reached-new-low.html' title='Life Has Reached a New Low'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111238163507327896</id><published>2005-04-02T02:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-02T02:53:55.076+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Its So Accurate that its Scary....</title><content type='html'>According to my horoscope.... (Damm.. Its so accurate...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Greetings Meiting --&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Here is your single's love horoscope for Saturday, April 2:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;If you wanted it to be easy, you could have settled for less long ago. So it's confusing now -- better that than boring, subpar clarity. Keep attempting to bring things out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As if i wasn't confused enough already..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng slaps her forehead with her hand and walks off into her room.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111238163507327896?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111238163507327896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111238163507327896' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111238163507327896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111238163507327896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/04/its-so-accurate-that-its-scary.html' title='Its So Accurate that its Scary....'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111238106587070871</id><published>2005-04-02T02:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-02T03:00:16.056+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Its Always Me.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm sick of waiting. &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;I'm sick and tired of being the one who tries to make contact all the time. &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;I'm tired of staring at the phone all day, WAITING for a stupid msg. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Damm.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111238106587070871?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111238106587070871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111238106587070871' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111238106587070871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111238106587070871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/04/its-always-me.html' title='Its Always Me.'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111210545206918882</id><published>2005-03-29T21:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-29T22:10:52.086+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Series of Unfortunate Events.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng walks into the room, with her head hanging low.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its a fucking unlucky day! Woke up this morning at 10.10am (I start work at 11pm!).. I'm going to be soooo &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;LATE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;FUCKING LATE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dashed into the toilet, took a quick shower and started to get dressed for work. I looked out the window, only to realise that its &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;RAINING&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;FUCK THE RAIN.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got dressed, put on my heels and dashed out the door with my umbrella. Reached the void deck of my block and tried to open the umbrella.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;FUCK, IT'S STUCK.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With no time to run back home to get another umbrella, i summoned what's left of my courage and dashed out into the rain. By the time i reached the bus stop, my jeans were wet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;FUCK THE RAIN.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally made my way to Cityhall.. Its still &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;RAINING&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;FUCK THE RAIN, AGAIN.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not wanting to be drenched, i decided to take the shutter bus instead. Waited for like 20 minutes.. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;STILL NO BUS IN SIGHT&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;FUCK THE BUS. I'M SOO FUCKING LATE.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, buses are like men. They just wun come. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; Since i've given up on men, i decided maybe its best i give up buses as well. I walked all the way back to Citylink and to Suntec. Its still &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;RAINING&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;FUCK THE RAIN. I REPEAT, FUCK THE RAIN.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cant believe it. My boss just called to ask me when i was. Why is it that bosses never call when i'm early for work? Why do they always call when i'm &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;LATE&lt;/span&gt; for work. And I had to dashed through the rain and across the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally reached my workplace at 11.30am. When I was feeling cold and hungry, my boss told me that from next month onwards, i'll have to go to the outlet at Thomson Plaza once a week. That's like sooo far from my place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;FUCK THOMSON PLAZA.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng takes out a rope and starts to hang herself.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nabehz...Just tell me! Give me ALL the bad news! Just give it all to me and let me die! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*strangles herself*&lt;/span&gt; Can things be any worse?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just when i thought that maybe life isn't that bad..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng walks into her bedroom, mumbling to herself "Fuck the rain.. Fuck everything else.."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to sleep..  Surely things cant get any worse, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111210545206918882?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111210545206918882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111210545206918882' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111210545206918882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111210545206918882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/series-of-unfortunate-events_29.html' title='A Series of Unfortunate Events.'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111202562070475074</id><published>2005-03-28T23:56:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-29T00:00:20.720+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Find a Guy..</title><content type='html'>LADIES... Find a guy:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who calls you beautiful instead of hot&lt;br /&gt;who calls you back when you hang up on him&lt;br /&gt;Who will stay awake just to watch you sleep.&lt;br /&gt;Wait for the boy who kisses your forhead&lt;br /&gt;Who wants to show you off to the world&lt;br /&gt;When you are in your sweats&lt;br /&gt;Who holds your hand in front of his friends&lt;br /&gt;Who thinks you're just as pretty without makeup on&lt;br /&gt;Wait for the one who is constantly reminding youo of how much he cares about you and how lucky he is to have you&lt;br /&gt;Wait for the one who turns to his friends andsays, "...that's her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111202562070475074?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111202562070475074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111202562070475074' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111202562070475074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111202562070475074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/find-guy.html' title='Find a Guy..'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111202455596926528</id><published>2005-03-28T23:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-28T23:42:35.973+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I think I worry too much</title><content type='html'>In life, as people get older, there's always more things to worry about. I, for one, am a born worrier. I worry about a lot of different things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I worry about me. I worry dying alone and eaten by monsters. I worry about not having enough to eat. I worry about not finding a job that i like. I worry about living a life that is less than fulfilling. I worry about not having a roof over my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also worry about my parents. I worry about them growing old and dying. Last night, while having dinner with my parents, i suddenly looked at them and realised how much they had aged. I got scared. I don't know what will i do without my parents. As i was eating, i felt that the simplest happiness in life was right before me. Having a meal with my love ones. No need for fancy dishes or expensive dinners. Just my family and I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng looks away, fearing that tears may fill her eyes.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think i worry too much. Lately, i've been worrying about  the tsunami coming again and flooding the whole of Singapore. I worry about the Sun burning out and all humans will freeze to death. I worry about the air being polluted and breathing in will shorten my life. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Am i being extreme? Or is it normal to worry?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think being insecure about these little things made me appreciate thing more. The fact that i know that they may slip pass me the very next moment made me thankful for them being in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Tonight, i think i'll take a moment and count my blessings.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111202455596926528?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111202455596926528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111202455596926528' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111202455596926528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111202455596926528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/i-think-i-worry-too-much.html' title='I think I worry too much'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111194024788766927</id><published>2005-03-28T00:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-28T23:43:34.240+08:00</updated><title type='text'>One Great Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Some people say you could only have one great love in your life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I think i've found mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Chocolates.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111194024788766927?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111194024788766927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111194024788766927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111194024788766927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111194024788766927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/one-great-love.html' title='One Great Love'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111185823574869878</id><published>2005-03-27T01:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-27T01:30:35.750+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pink, Warm and Fuzzy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm feeling abit of pink.. Abit of the warm and fuzzy feeling inside. I'm not telling why. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;*Shh..*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111185823574869878?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111185823574869878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111185823574869878' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111185823574869878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111185823574869878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/pink-warm-and-fuzzy.html' title='Pink, Warm and Fuzzy'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111185686246228406</id><published>2005-03-27T01:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-27T01:07:42.463+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/117/2042/640/Me.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/117/2042/320/Me.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me (In Cheongsum)&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111185686246228406?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111185686246228406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111185686246228406' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111185686246228406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111185686246228406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/me-in-cheongsum.html' title=''/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111176401069212356</id><published>2005-03-25T22:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-26T00:46:05.180+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Mixture of Feelings..</title><content type='html'>I have many thoughts swimming in my head. I think i better start blogging before they all drown. First of all, my mood swings are getting from bad to worse. A few nights ago, i laid on my bed and just started to cry for no reason. I started to think about what it would be like to die. I thought about what i would wan to say to my parents and friends. Thought about how to comfort them even when i'm already dying. I just want to feel depressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;The strangest thing, I'm happy when i'm depressed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I think i'm going nuts. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am feeling very anti-social right now. Its one of those times when i just want to lock myself in my room, blast my music and play Warcraft all night. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; Was supposed to meet Su ken, Alvin, Fuwen and Thomas for dinner but i was too tired. We were out yesterday night till 3am! Fucking hell.. Actually, Fuwen and Thomas came to pick me around ten plus and we headed to meet Su ken and Alvin. When we reached her block, Su ken came running to us and told us that Alvin's nose was bleeding. Apparently, she had punched him in the face so hard that his nose bled. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tsk tsk*&lt;/span&gt; Domestic violence... He tried to stop the bleeding by stuffing tissues in his nose. Thomas suggested sticking a tampon into his nose instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng considers the possibility of marketing tampons as the new subsitute for tissues.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knows, the next greatest invention (after the vibrator, of course) would be a tampon-like stick for people to stuff into their noses when they have runny nose or nose bleed. My nose is running again... &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*sniff sniff*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyway, back to yesterday, we went to Geylang for dim sum cause Su ken wanted to have dim sum. After that, we went to the Esplanade. I've just decided that the most romantic place to propose to your girlfriends would be at the Esplanade. Nice view of the sea.. neon lights.. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*aWwW*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Argh.. I'm drifting off again.. I think my brain is very confused these days. I think i have more male hormones than female hormones. And i'm feeling very irritated and very grouchy. And I want to sleep right about now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng stomps out of the room.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I blame the hormones.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111176401069212356?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111176401069212356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111176401069212356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111176401069212356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111176401069212356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/mixture-of-feelings.html' title='A Mixture of Feelings..'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111142954356418286</id><published>2005-03-22T02:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-26T00:04:19.076+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mouring In Progress</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng enters the room, wearing a long black dress and a black veil.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its a very sad day. We are gathered here today to grieve the death of my lovely Black/Green Silk jacket. He died this morning. He may not have been the jacket which accompanied me through the rain. He may not be the one which kept me warm in the freezing cinemas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;But to me, he has always been someone SPECIAL.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng takes out a white handkerchief and wipes her tears.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven decide what type of burial would be more apporiate? Sea? Or Land? Will we be serving curry chicken at the wake? What music will we play? What flowers will we get?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng considers these seriously.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, if its of any consolations to me, at least it is still in &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;ONE&lt;/span&gt; piece and not pieces. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*blows her nose*&lt;/span&gt; I'll miss him. I'll miss how soft he felt around me. How nice it was to wear something so B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L. Sadly, his beauty was shortlived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;WHY!?!!!&lt;/span&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="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng falls to the ground, banging her fists and kicking her legs.*&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Please leave my site. I really need to be alone for awhile. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*sniff sniff*&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111142954356418286?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111142954356418286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111142954356418286' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111142954356418286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111142954356418286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/mouring-in-progress.html' title='Mouring In Progress'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111121825765711156</id><published>2005-03-19T15:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-19T15:44:17.660+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Beg Your Pardon</title><content type='html'>There once was a time and there once was a way&lt;br /&gt;We had something going and to my dismay&lt;br /&gt;Attention to me seemed to drift though I don't know where&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when we're alone seems there's nothing to say&lt;br /&gt;I bring up a topic and you push it away&lt;br /&gt;You say that you do but I think it's just you don't care&lt;br /&gt;Why do I feel you're using me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are we an item or are we just two&lt;br /&gt;I need some commitments all I ask of you&lt;br /&gt;Your lifestyle can change&lt;br /&gt;Don't be 'fraid what you think's in store&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what's on your mind you've got lots to lose&lt;br /&gt;Your shallow acquaintances what's there to choose&lt;br /&gt;Yuo won't get too deep even though I'm worth so much more&lt;br /&gt;So think about it carefully&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Smile for a while and let's be jolly&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Love shouldn't be so melancholy&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Come along and share the good times while we can&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If that's how you want it; that's how it'll be&lt;br /&gt;There's no use in trying or making you see&lt;br /&gt;That love don't come easy you don't know what it's about&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To get things together won't take any pain&lt;br /&gt;Don't need to see/hear from you ever again&lt;br /&gt;From this day on listen but no more&lt;br /&gt;Please count me out, and you know what I'm talkin' about&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Smile for a while and let's be jolly&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Love shouldn't be so melancholy&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Come along and share the good times while we can&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know now's the time that I went to find something new&lt;br /&gt;You know it's your crime that I'm out to find someone too&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111121825765711156?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111121825765711156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111121825765711156' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111121825765711156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111121825765711156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/i-beg-your-pardon.html' title='I Beg Your Pardon'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111121764764912558</id><published>2005-03-19T14:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-26T00:02:37.556+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Left Eye hurts</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I'm in PAIN.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My body aches.. My left eye is swollen.. I'm in horrible state.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was out the whole of yesterday doing stuff. Had dinner with my friends at Suntec (the steamboat buffet). So yummy.. I had lots of beef.. mushrooms.. eggs.. crabs.. *drools*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After dinner, i met Fuwen (&lt;-- Yes.. ITS &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;FUWEN!), &lt;/span&gt;Alvin Tan and Su ken for drinks. Fuwen and Alvin met me at my house after which we went to pick Su ken from her house. On the way to Su ken's house, i was quite embarrassed because i kept sliding forward on his bike. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*blushes* &lt;/span&gt;I resorted to holding the metal bar at the backseat to stop myself from sliding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyway, i'm not like dating him or anything. I've learnt my lesson from the last time Sally tried to set me up with Justin's fren.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;DON'T MESS WITH YOUR FREN BF'S FREN. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng writes it on a post-it note and sticks it on her forehead.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its not good. Sally felt real bad when things didn't work out. She felt that it was her fault cause she was the one who sort of introduced me and him. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; I guess its kind of a thingy you are not supposed to do. Well, who is really to blame? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;How do we know wha's right or wrong if we did not try?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Anyway, my left eye hurts and i'm off to rest now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111121764764912558?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111121764764912558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111121764764912558' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111121764764912558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111121764764912558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/my-left-eye-hurts.html' title='My Left Eye hurts'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111107094630263775</id><published>2005-03-17T22:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-17T23:11:27.756+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Its one of those days.</title><content type='html'>Its one of those days when i &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;DO NOT&lt;/span&gt; feel like blogging. However, i'll just blog about what happened yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to Zouk with Candice (her 1st time!), Amanda and Step. Was pretty excited about going to Zouk cause it has been a while since i was there. Was looking forward to it. Had dinner at Suntec Mac. I had a Spicy Mac double Meal, with the drink changed to Ice tea. We sat there till about 10pm after which we made our way down to Zouk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the entrance, the bouncer checked all our bags. When he saw the Nelgene in my bag, he told me that i could not bring it in! What the fuck?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng raised her eyebrow.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since when did they have a rule about water bottles? I was abit pissed off. But me, being me, i was determined &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;NOT&lt;/span&gt; to let anyone insignificant irritate the shit out of me. So he took my Nelgene and told me i could collect it afterwards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we finally got in, it was already quite crowded. I quickly checked out the crowded, hoping to find interesting people. (By the word &lt;em&gt;"Interesting"&lt;/em&gt; i actually meant cute, handsome men.) Sadly, there was hardly any one worth checking out. Disappointed, i proceeded to drown my sorrows in alcohol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Maybe everyone will look better when i'm drunk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, it was not helping. So i went back to the bar and got myself another &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Vodka Orange&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Maybe everyone will look EVEN BETTER after i had 2 drinks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it was the dinner i had. Or maybe it was the medicine i took. Or maybe its just because of all the not so pretty people around. I felt seriously sick. I pushed my way (Imagine Moses and the parting of the Red Sea) to the toilet and only to find &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;ALL THE CUBICLES OCCUPIED.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng covers her mouth with her left hand while holding up the 3rd finger on her right.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its one of those Murphy Laws' days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;When you need a toilet, its always OCCUPIED.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was spending more time in the toilet puking, rather than on the dance floor dancing. My head ached so much that i left the club about 1am. Reached home about 1.30am but i was still sober enough to put away my shoes &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;NEATLY&lt;/span&gt;, shower and put myself to sleep. I even managed to wake up on time for work this morning!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;WELL DONE!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng pats herself on her back.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111107094630263775?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111107094630263775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111107094630263775' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111107094630263775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111107094630263775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/its-one-of-those-days.html' title='Its one of those days.'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111080840400015679</id><published>2005-03-14T21:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-14T21:58:36.786+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I feel FAT</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I FEEL FAT.&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;FAT.&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;FAT.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;VERY FAT.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight's dinner shall be a piece of pancake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng weeps over her sad little pancake.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll starve myself till i'm pencil thin in order to appear B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L. I hate thin people. I hate thin people when i feel &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;FAT&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Till i'm skinny again..&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111080840400015679?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111080840400015679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111080840400015679' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111080840400015679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111080840400015679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/i-feel-fat.html' title='I feel FAT'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111072804664237375</id><published>2005-03-13T22:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-13T23:34:06.646+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What doesn't kill you makes you STRONGER</title><content type='html'>Ok. I'm back. I'm not dead yet. *hurrays!!* (Though i'm not sure whether this is a good or bad news to you?). As the saying goes, what doesn't kills you makes you stronger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I'm strong.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng pats herself on the back.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well.. Have you gone through a day whereby no one called or msg you? My handphone has been awfully quiet today. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; I guess its one of those days when people around me are too busy with their lives that they have forgotten about &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng checks her handphone again and whines.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one cares about me... *sobz sobz* But anyway, doesn't bother me much. I'm happy. I just finished eating a pack of yummy Nasi lemak. *drools*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was reading the Bulletin Board on friendster when i came upon this thingy posted by my dearie, Azan. Thought it was quite funny.. Here it goes..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think of a movie title and change its one word to penis...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.The Last PENIS Standing (Man)&lt;br /&gt;2.Dude, where's my PENIS? (Car)&lt;br /&gt;3.A PENIS to remember (Walk)&lt;br /&gt;4.Interview with a PENIS (Vampire)&lt;br /&gt;5.Riding PENISs (Giants)&lt;br /&gt;6.Back to the PENIS (Future)&lt;br /&gt;7.When a man loves a PENIS(Woman)&lt;br /&gt;8.Saving private PENIS (Ryan)&lt;br /&gt;9.Episode 2: Attack of the PENIS(s)(CLones)&lt;br /&gt;10.PENIS in New York (Autumn)&lt;br /&gt;11. PENIS Bites (reality)&lt;br /&gt;12.Head of PENIS (State)&lt;br /&gt;13.The Little PENISs (Rascals)&lt;br /&gt;14.Lemony Snicket's A Series ofUnfortunate PENISs (Events)&lt;br /&gt;15.Honey, I shrunk the PENIS (kids)&lt;br /&gt;16.Scent of A PENIS (woman)&lt;br /&gt;17.PENIS On Fire (Man)&lt;br /&gt;18.A Beautiful PENIS (Mind)&lt;br /&gt;19.Catch PENIS(me) if you can.&lt;br /&gt;20.Bulletproof PENIS (monk)&lt;br /&gt;21. LORD OF THE PENIS(rings)&lt;br /&gt;22.PENIS room (Panic room)&lt;br /&gt;23.Jurassic PENIS (Park)&lt;br /&gt;24.How to lose a PENIS in 10 days(guy)&lt;br /&gt;25.PENIS Magic (PRactical)&lt;br /&gt;26.My sassy PENIS(girl)&lt;br /&gt;27.Charlie's PENIS: full throttle(angels)&lt;br /&gt;28.Pretty PENIS(woman)&lt;br /&gt;29.Snake in the PENIS'sshadow(eagle's)&lt;br /&gt;30.Big PENIS (Daddy)&lt;br /&gt;31. 40 days, 40 PENIS (nights)&lt;br /&gt;32.Walking PENIS(Tall)...&lt;br /&gt;33.Remember the PENIS(titans)&lt;br /&gt;34.Save the Last PENIS (Dance)&lt;br /&gt;35.50 First PENIS (Date)&lt;br /&gt;36.Spongebob Square PENIS(Pants) The Movie&lt;br /&gt;37.Dirty PENIS (Dancing)&lt;br /&gt;38.Finding PENIS (NEMO)&lt;br /&gt;39.My BIG, FAT, GREEK PENIS!!!(Wedding)&lt;br /&gt;40.Enter the PENIS (Dragon)&lt;br /&gt;41. PENIS Got Fingered (Freddy)&lt;br /&gt;42. Open PENIS (Water)&lt;br /&gt;43. I heart PENIS (huckabees)&lt;br /&gt;44. Once upon a PENIS in mexico (Time)&lt;br /&gt;45. White PENIS (chicks)&lt;br /&gt;46. Bridget jones's PENIS (diary)&lt;br /&gt;47. The league of extraordinary PENIS(gentlemen)&lt;br /&gt;48. Princess PENIS (diaries)&lt;br /&gt;49. Sleeping with the PENIS(enemy)&lt;br /&gt;50. Finding Penis (Forresster)&lt;br /&gt;51. The PENIS Identity (Bourne)&lt;br /&gt;52. A Very Long Penis (engagement)&lt;br /&gt;53. My Little Penis (Bride)&lt;br /&gt;54. Super Size Penis (Me)&lt;br /&gt;55. How to lose a Penis in 10 days(Guy)&lt;br /&gt;56. National Penis (treasure)&lt;br /&gt;57. Penis Raiders [ Seoul ]&lt;br /&gt;58. Kung Fu Penis ( Hustle )&lt;br /&gt;59. Meet Da Penis ( fockers )&lt;br /&gt;60. First Penis (Dates) =)&lt;br /&gt;70. Finding Penis&lt;br /&gt;71. Edward Penis Hands ( Scissors )&lt;br /&gt;72. i,PENIS (ROBOT)&lt;br /&gt;73. Penis Away (Spirited)&lt;br /&gt;74. Series of Unfortunate Penis (events)&lt;br /&gt;75. Honey i Shrunk the Penis (kids)&lt;br /&gt;76. The Littlest Penis (elf)&lt;br /&gt;77. 28 Penis Later (days)&lt;br /&gt;78. Team Penis (america)&lt;br /&gt;79. Lord of the Penis (rings)&lt;br /&gt;80. White Penis (noise)&lt;br /&gt;81. Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Penis (Mind)&lt;br /&gt;82. The Penis (Eye)&lt;br /&gt;83. Million Dollar Penis (Baby)&lt;br /&gt;84. Mr Penis - Armed &amp; Fabulous&lt;br /&gt;85. Son of the Penis (Mask)&lt;br /&gt;86. Bride and Penis (Prejudice)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111072804664237375?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111072804664237375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111072804664237375' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111072804664237375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111072804664237375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/what-doesnt-kill-you-makes-you.html' title='What doesn&apos;t kill you makes you STRONGER'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111063842126823503</id><published>2005-03-12T22:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T22:48:46.926+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I think I'm dying.</title><content type='html'>I used to think that being single was quite sad. That was until the time when i was &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;SINGLE&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;DATELESS&lt;/span&gt;. To make things worse, it was a Saturday night. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; All these was until now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;SINGLE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;DATELESS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;SATURDAY NIGHT&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SICK&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the only date that I'll be having this Saturday night will be with my doctor, who told me that i should be fine after taking my medicine. He charged me $38 for a 5 minutes consultation. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; Wonder how much will a dinner date cost?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was feeling feverish the whole day.. Felt that my head was going to explode.. Unfortunately, i cant go home early. So i popped two panadols at work, hoping that it'll go away. By 6pm, the pain in my head, not only did not go away, it got worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng bangs her head against the wall.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe i'm dying. Maybe my head will explode and all my brain juices will splatter all over my laptop? Maybe i should start preparing my grave now..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng takes a shovel and starts digging.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think i need a wider grave. Who knows? I may need to toss and turn every now and then. But I think 6 feet under ground should be deep enough. I've already thought about the words on my tombstone. It should go something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;In loving memory of&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Lin Meiting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Born 25.05.1984 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Died 12.03.2005&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;She was the most beautiful confused girl.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng starts to cry.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like white flowers for my funeral. Lots of flowers. Mahjong is a must-do.Curry chicken is a must-have. No chinese band though. I might turn in my coffin if they ever play at my funeral. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shurgs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If i'm not back blogging tomolo, please look out for my obituary in the newspapers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111063842126823503?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111063842126823503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111063842126823503' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111063842126823503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111063842126823503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/i-think-im-dying.html' title='I think I&apos;m dying.'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111055639709633699</id><published>2005-03-11T23:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-11T23:53:17.096+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pimple Woes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I got a &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;huge hideous disgusting&lt;/span&gt; pimple on my forehead. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Fucking hell.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111055639709633699?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111055639709633699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111055639709633699' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111055639709633699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111055639709633699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/pimple-woes.html' title='Pimple Woes'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111055387888536379</id><published>2005-03-11T22:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-11T23:11:18.886+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Movies</title><content type='html'>Been wanting to change the song of my blog.. Wanted to change it to the song "The Blower's Daughter". If you have watched the movie "Closer", its the song playing at the begining and also at the end. I loved the movie! I like the part where Alice was talking to Dan. He told her how much he loved her. But she said she can only hear some words. She cant feel the "love". Its so true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Don't tell me you love me. Show me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think Dan is really selfish. He never really loved her. He just wanted her to love him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng thinks about it seriously.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But isn't it true for all men? All of them wants women to love them, unconditionally. But they are not willing to give the same amount of love back. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; I think the only uncondition love is the love between a mother and her child. Don't you think so?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng stares at you, wide-eyed, waiting for you to nod your head.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to watch "Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events" with Raymond yesterday. Watched it for &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;FREE&lt;/span&gt; cause he has VIP pass. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*winkz winkz*&lt;/span&gt; I thought it was a funny movie. Very interesting costumes and sets. I really like the clothes wore by the little girl. I think the special effects are good. But i thought that the storyline was a bit weak. Kind of predictable. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; Nevertheless, i think its a nice show. I think i deserves half a thumbs up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng sticks up her left thumb, takes out a knife and cuts it in half.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out of all the movies i've watched, i still prefer the show "Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind". I think its deep, dark, funny but touching. I love it sooo much. Its really the best film i've watched so far. One thumb up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng takes out a piece of scotch tapes, tapes her left thumb together and sticks it up.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, am quite sleepy now.. Will be back to blog more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111055387888536379?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111055387888536379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111055387888536379' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111055387888536379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111055387888536379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/movies.html' title='Movies'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111038187186761912</id><published>2005-03-09T23:00:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-09T23:24:31.870+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Paper Chase Syndrome</title><content type='html'>Its my off day tomolo and with no plans to meet of my frens, i finally decided to run some personal errands that have been long overdue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plans for tml:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Collect my NRIC&lt;br /&gt;2) Collect my diploma from SP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok.. The second task is &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;W-A-A-Y&lt;/span&gt; overdue. I've gradutated last july and have not collected my cert till now. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; I guess one of the reasons why i've not collected my dip is actually because i resent the idea of justifying the value of my life with a piece of paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personally, i don't feel that having a piece of paper means anything to me. Its doesn't tell you what kind of person i am. It doesn't tell you my thoughts or my feelings. It doesn't not tell you anything about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I hate the whole "Paper Chase" syndrome.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To me, education should be about learning what you are interested in. I want to learn about stuff that i like and not forced to study subjects that i don't want. Sadly, Singapore is a place where certification is very important. People are judged too quickly by their qualifications like where they graduated from or what grades they obtained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;But does it really matter? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hundreds of years from now, who will remember all this? I want to be about to be remember for what kind of person i am and &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;NOT&lt;/span&gt; for my academic results. I'm thankful for being brought up in Singapore and being educated in world-class education system. But i still think that somehow Singapore's education system is flawed and there's still room for more changes. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, am going to shower now.. My lens are soo dry that they are threatening to pop out anytime!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111038187186761912?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111038187186761912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111038187186761912' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111038187186761912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111038187186761912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/paper-chase-syndrome.html' title='Paper Chase Syndrome'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-111029387458954372</id><published>2005-03-08T22:02:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-08T22:57:54.593+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Emotionally Unavailable Men</title><content type='html'>Recently, i've been getting the feeling that i'm surrounded by freaky men. One breed, which is especially prominent is a group of men i like to call,&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt; THE EMOTIONALLY UNAVAILABLE MEN (E.U.M).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are literally &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;EVERYWHERE&lt;/span&gt;. Take a stone and throw on the streets and you'll definately hit a emotionally unavailable men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng nods her head.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yupz.. thats how over populated they are! I think i had my fair share of E.U.Ms. Its seems to me that almost all the guys i met are emotionally unavailable for some reasons. The most common of all is that they cant get over their ex-gfs. Well, let me decipher this for you ladies out there. It simply means "I like you but i still wan to fuck other gals too." &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This breed of men enjoy your company, whether it is dinner, movies or even just tea. They may not be looking for sex but they do want to hold you, kiss you and sometimes snog. They can be amazingly romantic and sweet. They give gals all these mixed feelings. Of course, me being me, always end up so confused and fustrated that i literally want to strangle all of them!! But then i realised that no matter how i feel or what i do, at the end of the day, they still remain emotioanally distant from ME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After time and time of getting upset anf fustrated over this type of men, i finally realised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;IF YOU CANT BEAT THEM, JOIN THEM.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This means being emotionally distant from &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;THEM&lt;/span&gt;! You can go out on dates, enjoy their company and at the end enjoy a little snog. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*winkz*&lt;/span&gt; But the moment the word "Goodbye" leaves your lips, you stop feeling for them. Like what i always say, I only love them when i see them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Out of sight, Out of mind.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course i'm not saying that this form of relationship is healthy. But it does save me from alot of heartache.&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt; *shurgs* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I'm just being very realistic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-111029387458954372?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/111029387458954372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=111029387458954372' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111029387458954372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/111029387458954372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/emotionally-unavailable-men.html' title='Emotionally Unavailable Men'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110995463778974841</id><published>2005-03-05T00:20:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-05T00:43:57.793+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Men are useless.</title><content type='html'>Jus got home from Bedok 85 market.. Was there with the Gv gang (Su ken, Alvin, Ah boon, Didi, Ah tong, Ah Gui, Ah seng, Jo, Ah guan etc) for a farewell dinner for Ah tong cause he's going into army on the 12th of March.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was quite surprised to see Fuwen there! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*blushes*&lt;/span&gt; I used to have a crush on him when i first started working at Gv. But he quit soon after cause he had to go into the army. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; There was this time when everyone was teasing me about him. When he came down to watch movie, Patrick passed me his tickets so that i could talk to him. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*laughs*&lt;/span&gt; So funny..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway.. was so bored at work today cause there was hardly any people shopping at the mall so i sat there and started thinking about stuff. Was reading this book when i chanced upon this line that goes like &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;"Men are such useless gender".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng ponders over the meaning of this sentence.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess its somehow true. Let's start talking about this from men's physical form.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men have nipples, which till now, I have &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;NOT&lt;/span&gt; figured out what they are for?! Their nipples are bascially for decoration purposes. Cant use it to feed babies or whatsoever. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Useless.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How about their heads? (Which in this case, i'm talking about BOTH of their heads) Both are equally redundant. Their thoughts and behaviour are guided only by their lower head. I have &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;NOT&lt;/span&gt; met any guys who have proven themselves to make me change my thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Useless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And how about their hearts? We gals always talk about how heartless men can be. So there again, their hearts are useless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Useless.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See... Just going through Men's physical form and we have already established quite firmly that Men are actually quite useless. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; Let's not even talk about how useless they are emotionally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng shakes her head and grieves over how useless Men are.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know i'm being very mean and unfair to all the guys out there. I, too, want to believe that there are good men out there. But seriously, finding a good man is harder than finding a dino fossil. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; Till i meet a guy who is worth of the term "GOOD MAN", i shall remain cynical about men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110995463778974841?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110995463778974841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110995463778974841' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110995463778974841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110995463778974841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/men-are-useless.html' title='Men are useless.'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110986209997342976</id><published>2005-03-03T22:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-03T23:01:39.976+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Men's Catalog &amp; Hand Sanitiser</title><content type='html'>Was flipping through the Dolce &amp; Gabbana catalog which was full of B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L men when suddenly i had a thought. What if someday i could just flip open a catalog and just order a man?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng grinz widely at the thought.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a tempting thought! I wish i could just order the man of my dreams from a catalog. I don't have to go through all the irritating blind dates anymore! Neither do i have to try to get men's attention. All i'll have to do is pick a guy and order him. There! As simple as that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok ok.. You must be thinking.. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;WHAT ABOUT LOVE&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng raises her eyebrow and looks at you.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think so dear... Who cares about love when he's got a nice body, cute hair and big &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*ahem*&lt;/span&gt; unmentionable?! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; As Carrie would have said,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;WELCOME TO THE AGE OF UN-INNOCENCE.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knows? Maybe someday we might be able to exchange our old boyfriends for newer better models? Trade in old ones for new ones.. Just like handphones.. UPGRADE! We could get better, more functional men. I can just imagine the advertising tagline. It should go like this..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Need new boyfriend? Trade in your old boyfriend! You name it! We got it!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know how the newer handphones always have better functions? New boyfriends will have new functions too! Imagine this..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;"Get the latest Boytoy for $199.99! Available in all different hair and skin colours. Includes new functions such as cooking and cleaning and NOT to forget ability to pleasure! *winkz* Available at all leading departmental stores. Batteries not included." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See.. I'm a true &lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;blue&lt;/span&gt; business woman. I can sell anything! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*giggles*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok. I'm bored. Very bored indeed. Lately, i've been getting obsessed with my hands. I'm using the hand sanitiser like every 2-3 hours. Is this considered as complusive? &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*considers seriously*&lt;/span&gt; I just like clean hands. And according to Candice, it kills 99.99% of the germs. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; We should all use hand sanitiser. Candice could be the spokesperson and i could be the Marketing Director. I like my hand sanitiser. Its apple scent. I love apples. Apple tea. Apple Juice. And now Apple hand sanitiser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I love apples.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110986209997342976?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110986209997342976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110986209997342976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110986209997342976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110986209997342976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/mens-catalog-hand-sanitiser.html' title='Men&apos;s Catalog &amp; Hand Sanitiser'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110977976318445688</id><published>2005-03-02T23:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-03T00:09:23.186+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Trying to Stay Sane</title><content type='html'>It rained the whole morning today. Saw a drain that was overflowing with rainwater. When i was young, my grand father used to fold paper boats for my sister and me to put in the flowing waters in the drain. He would use those chinese calendar to fold the paper boats. I remember telling my grand father to put a little shelter on my boat. I had pretty paper boat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I was happy.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to town today to meet Stanley Teo for lunch. Was there quite early so i decided to do my nails at Taka's Nail Place while waiting for him. We went to the Crystal Jade Ramian for lunch and went to Partyworld KTV. I've been going to KTV every week (sometimes as frequent as 3 times a week!). &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tsk tsk*&lt;/span&gt; I guess it helps take my mind off things while being there. Plus i actually save more money cause i don't buy as many stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We met Chaiyang for dinner at Wheelock, after which, i took the bus home. I like taking long bus rides. They give me time to just sit down and stare into blank space. I always sit at the second last row from the back of the bus. Don't ask me why.. I just like the spot. Sitting there, staring at people, quietly observing what they are doing..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was staring at my own reflection in the window on the bus. I look sad. Who is the person in the reflection? The gal with big curly hair, bright colourful clothes, her big dangling earrings..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Its not me.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's screaming inside. Trying to get out. I want to rip everything off.. wipe the stuff off my face and say "Look at me. This is the real me". Somehow, i cant. I cant let me be me anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng touches her reflection and shakes her head.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world is a cruel place. Everyone wants to use you or abuse you. I cant let you out. They'll hurt you. I'll protect you. You are safe, safe inside me. I won't let anyone break us down. No.. They wun break us down anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've let them in before. They broke down the wall, came over and took everything. When they left, they left nothing behind. Nothing but a broken you. Its useless. Don't believe their lies anymore.. They don't mean a thing they say. I'm the only one who truly loves you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I am you.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng stares at her reflection.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I think i'm going crazy.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110977976318445688?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110977976318445688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110977976318445688' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110977976318445688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110977976318445688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/trying-to-stay-sane.html' title='Trying to Stay Sane'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110960853784554169</id><published>2005-03-01T00:34:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-01T00:35:37.846+08:00</updated><title type='text'>FeeL</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff99ff;"&gt;tHeRe'S nO hErO iN heR sKieS.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110960853784554169?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110960853784554169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110960853784554169' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110960853784554169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110960853784554169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/03/feel.html' title='FeeL'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110953000009221991</id><published>2005-02-28T02:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-28T02:48:11.750+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sadistic me?</title><content type='html'>Just got back from KTV session with Sally, Justin and Yanwen.. Am awfully tired &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*yawnz*&lt;/span&gt; cause i haven been sleeping much this week. Too much has happened but i don't dun how to start to explain the damm situation. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Well, there are certain times in life when I just want to stop feeling. These days, especially, I just want to numb myself. I like to work till I don’t have the energy to think. I like to drink till I’m too drunk to remember anything that happened. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; Recently, I don’t feel like thinking. Don’t feel like thinking about anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, sometimes I find myself thinking about stuff when I’m on the train or just walking around. This is bad. Too much thinking makes me more confused. I don’t want to sit around and think about what will happen if I had done this or will I be able to change anything if I have done that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng shakes her head*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I’m seeking the eternal sunshine of a spotless mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Maybe I need to have a brain transplant? Or maybe try to damage my brain cells? Or maybe bain removal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng slams her head on the wall repeatedly.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its not working. Argh..My contact lens are very dry and blur and me head feels heavy.. Maybe it time i get some slp. Was so tired at work today that i nearly black out in the lift. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I'm such a sadist.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110953000009221991?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110953000009221991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110953000009221991' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110953000009221991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110953000009221991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/sadistic-me.html' title='Sadistic me?'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110900257370628089</id><published>2005-02-21T23:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-22T13:36:04.546+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Unusually LONG POST</title><content type='html'>I'm so guilty. Haven been blogging (for one week to be exact..) cause my internet was disconneted. It cost me a mind blowing &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;$331.12 EXACTLY!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng weeps over the hole in her pocket.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well.. what to do? Cant survive with the net.. Its seems lately my social life depends very much on it. With only one day off per week, the only way to catch up with all my frens is through the net. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, i shall continue on where i stopped the last time.. So here it goes..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;15th Feb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work work work.. Home.. Sleep&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;16th Feb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nite out with Daphne and Chaiyang.. Went to Zouk.. Reached there around 10.30pm.. Never been there so early though. I have to say its pretty freakish that day. First, we saw this group of guys and gals drinking shots. They were drinking so much that they were drunk before 11pm. Seriously, if you are going to get wasted so fast and so early in the nite, why come all the way to Zouk? Might as well stay at home. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, we saw this two gals dancing on the ladies platform. They were sooo hot, rubbing each other like some kind of erotic dancers. One of the gal was wearing a veRy VERY short skirt.. So short that when she danced, she exposed herself. Black skirt and white thong.. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*considers*&lt;/span&gt; Well, it's either she has very bad fashion sense or she's desperate to show off her undies. Anyway, they were dancing so wildly that all the guys were staring at them. Like i told Chaiyang, just throw ten bucks to them and ask them to strip larz. Stop wasting time! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*laughs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Am i very mean?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, we saw this trans.aka.ah gua. who dressed like a "fairy". &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*laughs*&lt;/span&gt; Eric said that she looked like the Goddess of mercy.. Can pray to her.. Oh did i mention that i met Eric? Apparently, he has been clubbing every week since i last saw him at Zouk on 29th Dec 04. And its behind his gf's back! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tsk tsk*&lt;/span&gt; I swear i saw him touching this gal that night. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; I feel sorry for his gf.. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*sighs*&lt;/span&gt; Its another classic example of bad man cheating on nice gals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Where have all the good men gone?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh oh oh.. I almost forgot.. I saw Ginger and Baby again.. Seems that i bump into them everywhere! Seriously, I'm not too keen on seeing them. I saw Ginger french kissing this gal. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*gasps in horror*&lt;/span&gt; And Daphne saw it too! And she asked me why Ginger cant make up her mind on whether she likes guys or gals?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng bursts into laughter.*&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, she used to be a guy so its not strange for her to kiss gals. But whether she like gals or guys.. That i don't know.. And i don't wanna know.. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; Since i'm talking about gals kissing gals, i kissed Daphne that night! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*laughs*&lt;/span&gt; But its not on the lips larz.. Its just a light peck on the cheeks! Sometimes, i feel that i love her.... as a friend i mean! Majority of the time, i still prefer guys. But sometimes, i like to hug gals too! I think its because we are both from gals schools. Maybe this will explain our crazy lesbian behaviour at times. I'm going to miss her.. She's leaving on the 27th.. So we have to break up now..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyway, we had lotsa of fun that night. Danced.. Talked with Kit, Andrew and Eric.. Realised that they are all bastards in their own ways.. As i was saying, &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;WHERE HAS ALL THE GOOD MEN GONE? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng bangs her head against the wall.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;17th and 18th Feb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was at Hyatt Hotel cause there was a 2-day fair. Bought a silk lamp ($16), a handbag ($40) and 2 beaded bracelets ($30).. Burnt more holes in my pocket.. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*sighs*&lt;/span&gt; There's one hole here, there and &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;EVERYWHERE&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daphne and me were there for two days and we drank like lots of coffee. The coffee was VERY good.. and me, influenced by my darling Daf, took a liking to raw sugar. Yummy..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;19th Feb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Met Kit for a movie at TM. Watched "Closer" and i loved the movie! But i hated Jude Law in the show. I think he's not being very fair to Natalie Portman. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*bares her teeth*&lt;/span&gt; But i like Natalie alot in the show. I like her character. She packed her bag and left when she knew that he did not love her. I wished i've done the same thing too. Just disappear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, am thinking of watching it again. Maybe i'll watch it with Daphne or Candice. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*considers*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;22nd Feb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Been thinking of going to Aussie for studies next year. I'm so tired of everything in Singapore. So sick of meeting the same people everywhere (Yes.. I'm referring to Ginger, Baby and ex-bfs). Singapore is just soo small. If i save enough money by next Feb, i'm going. I'm serious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;If i have a choice, I don't wish to come back.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not saying that I hate Singapore or anything. Its just that sometimes i just wish i could leave everything and run away. No baggage. Just my bag and me. Like Alice Aryes/Jane Jones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng lets out a deep sigh.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think i've blogged enough for the night. Off to bed..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110900257370628089?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110900257370628089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110900257370628089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110900257370628089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110900257370628089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/unusually-long-post.html' title='Unusually LONG POST'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110841145859966893</id><published>2005-02-15T03:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-22T16:21:34.130+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A very Happy V Day for a Singleton!</title><content type='html'>I'm exhausted! Just got back from from town.. I'm soo &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;HAPPY&lt;/span&gt;! This is, seriously, the best Valentine's day i ever had!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woke up around 11 plus.. Dreamt that i met David Tao! In my dream, he signed all my albums and we talked and talked and talked.. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*aWwwW*&lt;/span&gt; Unfortunately, i had to wake up cause i was meeting Candice in town for shopping..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wore my new black netted off shoulder top today! I loved it! Spent quite a while dressing up so i was late again! Was supposed to meet Candice at Taka at 1.30pm but at 1.25pm i was still on the train. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the train, i sat and pondered about what love actually is.. And i came up with a few..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Love is like going to the circus. Its all about the freaks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Love is a battlefield. And i'm not signing any peace treaty!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Love is an accident. Unfortunately, there's no insurance claims when you get hurt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Love is like a trip to the dentist. You'll never know when it'll hurt or what to expect.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While thinking about what Love is, a strange thought jumped out of my brains. I figured that love and women co-exist, while men and sex co-exist. And love is, actually, a romanticised version of sex. So, in order for men to have sex, they use love as a pretext. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng wonders how true her theory is.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok ok.. Getting way off now.. Back to my day.. I met Candice and we headed to Coffee Bean for a drink before going shopping. I had a nice cuppa Caramel Latte and a blueberry muffin. She had a cup of tea with an apple muffin. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*drools*&lt;/span&gt; I love having tea with my gals...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the next few hours, we chatted and shopped around the whole of Orchard.&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt; *phews*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng wipes of beads of sweat from her forehead.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought like a million things! A new pink knee length skirt, new pink earrings, a pink bracelet (which we bought one for each of us, but in different colours) and also a pair of jeans and a new pink sweater! As you can tell from the stuff i bought, i adore &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;PINK&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*blushes*&lt;/span&gt; I know it makes me seems too girly and i'm not a girly girl. But i just really think its a nice colour! Its not a sin, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng looks around, defensively.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Walking around Orchard today was hellish.. So many couples, hugging and kissing, looking digustingly &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;HAPPY&lt;/span&gt;. So many people trying to sell us flowers, ballons and bears. A gal actually approached Candice and me and asked us if we would like to get flowers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng raises her eyebrows, angrily.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is she mocking me? Do i look like i'm attached? (I think she thought we were a couple cause we were holding hands?) Fucking hell.. I think its absolutely absurd. Why do couples get a special day but singles don't? &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*considers*&lt;/span&gt; I think it is undermining to my human rights as a singleton, which i have to state very importantly, for your information, &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;A HAPPY SINGLETON&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe we should write to the Parliment and request for a day to celebrate Singlehood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, i've decided i'll do my very best to avoid Orchard during V day. The sight of happy couples with balloons and flowers icks me. And everywhere is packed because couples are out! Now, who the hell decided to give them a day off from the asylum?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Met Daphne and the Fangs for dinner at Sakea Sushi.. Was supposed to be eating at Billy Bombers but was absolutely turned off by their menu. They had stuff like 1) Cupid's soup of the day, 2) Romeo &amp; Juliet's main courses etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng pulls her hair and slams her head against the wall.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do they really have to do this? Don't they know that Romeo &amp;amp; Juliet both died? &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*laughs*&lt;/span&gt; And they actually think its a good idea to name the main courses after them?! Its too ridiculous.. I give up. V day is too commercialised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Geraldine was very nice.. She gave us each a piece of jade and some chocolates for V day. I felt a little guilty though cause i didn't get her anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After dinner, the gals and I went to Partyworld for singing! Ohh.. I had soo much fun! I think i sing quite well.. Esp those manly songs! *laughs* Like those Wu Bai songs.. We had soo much fun that we've booked another slot for this Friday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, this is the first time i truly enjoyed myself during V day! And i really look forward to the KTV session again this friday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110841145859966893?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110841145859966893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110841145859966893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110841145859966893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110841145859966893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/very-happy-v-day-for-singleton.html' title='A very Happy V Day for a Singleton!'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110830579842293199</id><published>2005-02-13T22:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-13T22:48:39.453+08:00</updated><title type='text'>So whats Your Secret?</title><content type='html'>Started my day with lotsa new stuff.. Firstly, i wore my new girl boxers from Topshop.. (Its &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;BLUE&lt;/span&gt;!) &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*winkz*&lt;/span&gt; Next, i used my new mascara and my new J Lo perfume. I love the Earl Grey smell... &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*aWwW*&lt;/span&gt; Been eyeing on it since the Christmas in 2003 and FINALLY bought it yesterday! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*hurrays!*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had another boring day at work.. Post CNY is a low low peak period. Spent the whole day trying to find something to do but couldn't. Instead, i stood at the door, staring at people who were walking around. Seriously, i was looking for someone. But if you ask me who i was looking for, i don't know how to answer you. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; Maybe i was looking for a familiar face? Maybe i was hoping that Prince Charming would "pop" by and carry me off into the sunset?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waited till 8pm but still no sight of Prince Charming.. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*sighs*&lt;/span&gt; But i did see a cute guy, wearing red cap, having coffee at TCC! And also a girl with very wrong taste in clothes.. She was wearing a long skirt with leather boots.. Weird..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alone, i took the East-bound train home.. Finished reading my book "Can you keep a secret?"... Kept thinking about wat secrets i was keeping.. So here's a few that i've thought of..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Like Jack Harper, i do not know what co-dependant means.&lt;br /&gt;2) I cheated on a spelling test in primary school.&lt;br /&gt;3) I used to have an english name. Its "Jen".&lt;br /&gt;4) I sometimes wonder is Shaun is reading my blog. (and why i don't see him on the net anymore?)&lt;br /&gt;5) I would like to try kissing a girl one day.&lt;br /&gt;6) I've watched porn before.&lt;br /&gt;7) I used to like watching Sell-a-vision.&lt;br /&gt;8) I think that red sofas are a turn on.&lt;br /&gt;9) I go weak in the knees when a guy read poetry to me.&lt;br /&gt;10) I go weak in the knees when a cute guy looks at me.&lt;br /&gt;11) I'm a very superstitious person.&lt;br /&gt;12) I've just looked up how to spell the word "Superstitious" using &lt;a href="http://www.dictionary.com"&gt;www.dictionary.com&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;13) I sometimes drool when i sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm sure there's more but i cant think now cause i really need to pee. Will be back with more..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;So whats your secret?&lt;/span&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;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110830579842293199?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110830579842293199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110830579842293199' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110830579842293199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110830579842293199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/so-whats-your-secret.html' title='So whats Your Secret?'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110821807532649375</id><published>2005-02-12T22:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-12T22:37:57.763+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sinned</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I'm weak.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm officially ashamed of myself. Was out shopping alone again today.. It has become my weekly thingy.. Shopping after work on Sat nights.. Argh.. This is a bad habit! I'm spending so much.. Even though I can afford it, but its still BAD. I have sinned! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;(*^_^*)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Somebody STOP ME!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Felt soo sleepy today at work that no amount of coffee helped. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; Think its because i was sneezing again throughout the night yest. No one to cover up for me... &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*aWwW*&lt;/span&gt; But anyway.. i guess its better to sleep alone than with someone. As the saying goes..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;"Better Alone than Badly Accompanied"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haven eaten dinner.. With so many CNY goodies in the kitchen, the only logical thing a human would do is to grab a can of coke and start munching. Like the rest of the 2 million gals out there, i'll diet tomolo! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110821807532649375?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110821807532649375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110821807532649375' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110821807532649375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110821807532649375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/sinned.html' title='Sinned'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110814179409065763</id><published>2005-02-12T00:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-12T01:09:54.096+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What's wrong?</title><content type='html'>Saw Ginger and Baby today while i was walking at Citylink. I din really want to acknowledge their presence, esp NOT after i know those things that Ginger said about me. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; Unfortunately, she caught my eyes and i was &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;FORCED&lt;/span&gt; to stop and make polite &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;"small talks".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; However, on a good side, i was nicely dressed in my hipster jeans and white tank top, with my huge colourful dangling earrings. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*phews*&lt;/span&gt; I won't want to be caught looking like crap, esp not to be seen by ex lovers or their friends. I've come to the point that i think that i MUST look good (if not at least decently dressed). Its kind of an ego thingy. I mean.. It proves that I'm surviving very well &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;WITHOUT YOU&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate it. I hate it when i have to be nice to people who i know are not exactly nice to me. Candice told me that sometimes we have to be &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;"diplomatic".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; I hate the word &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;"DIPLOMATIC".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Fuck the diplomatic shit.&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Argh.. I simply wished them happy new year and politely told them i was rushing off to meet some friends for dinner. (Its not a lie! I was late for shopping with Candice!) Made my escape as fast as i could. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Met Candice at Topshop.. Shopped around and bought 2 pairs of girl boxers, both blue.. I wanted the red ones but they dun carry it anymore. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*stomps her feet and whines*&lt;/span&gt; Went for dinner with Daf and the Fang people at Kuishinbo. I've never been there before. I was pretty stressed out cause they kept playing the song "Bo Bo Bo.. Kuishinbo.." whenever they had special promotions. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*gasp*&lt;/span&gt; Eat dinner oso sooo stressed! No wonder the life span of human beings are getting shorter. Cant they just give us a break or something?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After dinner, Daf, Candice and I went shopping around Suntec. Went to HMV but couldn't find the broadway cd that i wanted. Went to VNC and Charles and Keith but couldn't find any shoes that i like... I'm upset!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Argh.. Whats wrong today?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read my horoscope today.. It told me to settle for flawed reality instead of my fantasy. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*raises her eyebrow.*&lt;/span&gt; What the fuck? Give me a good reason why i should settle for something flawed! Daf asked me and Candice why are we still unattached today. She said we are great girls but why cant we find decent guys? I simply looked at her and told her very blatantly "Its not that we don't want a relationship. Its just that there aren't many decent guys out there. They are all either gay or holding someone else's hand." &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yupz.. Its the truth. They are all holding someone else's hand except &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;MINE&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng throws both her hands up in the air!*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daf said that i always attract the wrong guys. They are either freaks or bastards. *considers* I think she's right. Looking back at all the guys i've dated, none of them are decent. But come to think of it, the one thing they all have in common is.... &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;. Maybe its &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt; who has a problem. Maybe its &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt; who is actually the freak?! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*gasps in horror*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, Post-me, all my ex bfs have done remarkably well. They are all happily attached in some way or another. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*considers*&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Maybe i'm the freak in their lives? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110814179409065763?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110814179409065763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110814179409065763' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110814179409065763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110814179409065763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/whats-wrong.html' title='What&apos;s wrong?'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110811161474831227</id><published>2005-02-11T16:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-11T16:46:54.750+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Gonna SoaK uP tHe sUn</title><content type='html'>Ah.. A perfect day! Beautiful sun!~~ I spent the day alone at the poolside, soaking up the sun's rays. I loved it! Nothing beats sun tanning.. And its quiet since there were only like 3 or 4 people at the pool. Read a little.. listened to my cd.. tanned a little.. I wish i could do it everyday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng stretches and soaks up the sun.* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 2 hours of tanning, i went to the min mart near my house and bought lots of chips and a carton of apple juice. Went home and watched tv and "Sex and the City" on my com..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;THIS IS LIFE!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am going to meet Candice and Daphne later at Suntec cause Mr Fang is treating us to a company dinner! Yeah! Free dinner!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110811161474831227?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110811161474831227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110811161474831227' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110811161474831227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110811161474831227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/im-gonna-soak-up-sun.html' title='I&apos;m Gonna SoaK uP tHe sUn'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110802985611645570</id><published>2005-02-10T17:55:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-10T18:04:16.200+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Crazy</title><content type='html'>There are certain times when i'm very skeptical about stuff. Right now, i'm so ready to challenge everything a guy says. There he is telling me how crazy he is over me and i'm like "Are you sure you are not high on drugs or something?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;He's crazy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110802985611645570?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110802985611645570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110802985611645570' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110802985611645570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110802985611645570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/crazy_10.html' title='Crazy'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110802403929381414</id><published>2005-02-10T16:27:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-10T16:27:19.293+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/117/2042/640/Picture%20051.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/117/2042/320/Picture%20051.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grumpy Baby.. SoO CuTe~~&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110802403929381414?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110802403929381414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110802403929381414' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110802403929381414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110802403929381414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/grumpy-baby.html' title=''/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110802402270192977</id><published>2005-02-10T16:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-10T16:27:02.700+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/117/2042/640/Picture%20050.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/117/2042/320/Picture%20050.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daphne and Candice! &amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110802402270192977?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110802402270192977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110802402270192977' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110802402270192977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110802402270192977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/daphne-and-candice.html' title=''/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110798314216211893</id><published>2005-02-10T04:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-10T05:22:23.420+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ain't going to pretend to be a Saint</title><content type='html'>Before i forget, I have to say something about Mr Ng Chun Kiat. Seriously, i dunno whether i should laugh or cry. He's like trying to flaunt his happiness straight in my face. When we were exchanging sms yesterday, he msged me saying "I wasted my time msging you. I rather spend more time with my dearie."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng crosses her arms.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aww.. So nice of him to constanly remind me the fact that he's HAPPILY with someone else. I think he's suffering from some mental disease that impairs his memory, causing him to forget the fact that he was the one who &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;CHEATED&lt;/span&gt; on me twice with the same gal. Either that or he's just very self-deluded. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its true that i've cheated on him once as well. Won't deny the fact. It was an act of revenge. You can say its childish and immature of me. But all i can say i do crazy things when i'm in love. I was very in love at that point of time and all i wanted was to make him feel the pain too. He should be glad that i didn't try to sleep with his brother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Su ken told me about this bet that Jason and the GV gang was saying the other time at Cecelia's chalet. They were betting on how long Kiat and his gf will last and how many gals/guys are there going to be in between. So far, most of them think it'll be 8 months with 2 or 3 gals in between. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*laughs*&lt;/span&gt; Sometimes, GV people are just so ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm supposed to wish him happiness with the gal. I'm supposed to be very forgiving. But honestly, I'm still reading the newspapers everyday, hoping to find that he has been knocked down by a car, flatten by a lorry or whatsoever. Is that very cruel of me to think this way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I'm sorry. But i'm not a saint.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110798314216211893?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110798314216211893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110798314216211893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110798314216211893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110798314216211893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/aint-going-to-pretend-to-be-saint.html' title='Ain&apos;t going to pretend to be a Saint'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110798118336881699</id><published>2005-02-10T03:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-10T04:33:03.366+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oddities of Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*phews*&lt;/span&gt; I just got home! My gosh.. I'm sOo tired.. Officially, i've had &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;ENOUGH&lt;/span&gt; of CNY. Thank goodness i dun have to see any more of my relatives (well, at least not for the next year if i can help it!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng crosses her fingers.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woke up around 9 plus, even though i don't really have to. Its like my body is so used to waking up at this timing. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; I refused to get out of my bed. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*pulls blanket over head*&lt;/span&gt; Come on, its CNY.. I think my bed deserve a little more attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng buries herself under the cover and forces herself to slp again.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dozed off again, waking every 5 minutes. Listened hard for any sounds outside my room. I waited and waited, expecting my mum to enter my room to wake me up. It didn't happen. Tired of waiting any longer, i dragged myself from my bed, holding my pillow in one hand, and walked out of the room. Strangely, nobody was awake execpt for my dad (who is already all dressed) &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sort of expecting my dad to start nagging at me to get ready and tell me how late we are. Oddly, he didn't &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*raises her eyebrow*&lt;/span&gt; Well, maybe its the reverse psychology. I got dressed faster than i did in the previous years. I looked into the mirror and i realised that my eyes are all puffy and swollen! Fucking hell.. Must be all the crying yesterday night. (Yes yes.. i'm a wimp. I cry for absolutely no reason.) By the time i finished, my sister JUST woke up. We fussed around each other for awhile. It was about 1 o'clock before we left the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Visiting relatives on CNY is always like staging a play. A play that has been repeating for so many years that i cant even remember. The actors are the same and the lines are the same as well. Every year, relatives ask the same questions.. Questions like "Are you still studying?", "Do you have boyfriend?" etc... The answers to these questions has been said so many times. Seriously, if they ask me &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;ONE MORE TIME&lt;/span&gt;, just &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;ONE MORE TIME&lt;/span&gt;.. I'm going to &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;FAINT&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng faints and drops to the ground, foaming at the mouth.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've answered these questions like a million times and they cant even remember. I don't blame them. They are just trying to show concern and i try to be nice too. I guess i'll be like that when i grow old. I'll most likely forget all my nephews and nieces' names and where are they studying. Maybe i'll even forget the fact that they even exist. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyway, went to Mr Fang's house at Queenstown. His house is on the 34th floor! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*grasps*&lt;/span&gt; The view is fantastic! We actually saw fireworks from his living room window! Anyway, will post pics that we took at his place. Played mahjong with Candice, Daphne and Amanda. I won $6!!!~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng jumps up and down in joy!*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fucking hell.. I've like never won any money in mahjong! And i actually won 6 fucking bucks! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*hurrays!~~*&lt;/span&gt; Maybe what people say is true. Maybe when your love life sucks, your luck will improve?! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*giggles*&lt;/span&gt; Well, i don't care about my love life.. Men have proven themselves to be quite troublesome..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once, i've been feeling low over some issues and my fling actually wanted to care for me! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*faints*&lt;/span&gt; I had to stop him immediately and said to him "You are my fling. You are not supposed to care. Your sole purpose is to entertain me when i'm bored. You get it?" I mean, i have friends who care about me, friends whom i can talk to when i'm down. I don't need him to care. I &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;DON'T WANT&lt;/span&gt; him to care. Freaking hell.. I had to dump him asap. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; I guess i can only say that he has reached him &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;expiry date&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know.. Does it make me sound bad when i say things like that? But that's the truth. I don't lie. I told my sister today how amazing women has changed over the last 100 years. We don't depend on men for food or for money. We don't depend on them to take care of us anymore. We don't even depend on them for sex! (which i absolutely thank god for the invention of the vibrator! At least they perform on demand, 24/7 and satisfaction guaranteed!) &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well.. Robin asked me to go to KL with him on fri. I'm still debating whether i should go. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*considers*&lt;/span&gt; He's much too young for my preference. I cant take care of younger men (by the term younger, i refer to those below the age of 24). Plus, I'm not sure i want to be in a relationship. But he goes like "Sweetie, you should take a break. Please come with me." or like "My dear lady.." Its so hard to turn him down when he's all sweet and nice. But really.. Am i willing to give up all the other possible options to settle down with someone? &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*considers*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno.. I'm really shagged out. Like what Scarlett would say "I'll think about it tomorrow."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110798118336881699?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110798118336881699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110798118336881699' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110798118336881699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110798118336881699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/oddities-of-life.html' title='Oddities of Life'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110787161293468174</id><published>2005-02-08T21:24:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-08T22:06:52.936+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Its just pure MATHS</title><content type='html'>Sometimes i wonder if i'm really a horrible person.. Mr Ng Chun Kiat has just asked him brother to send me a msg to ask me to return him the money and all the stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng raises her eyebrow.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno what should my reactions be?! Seriously, i want to laugh. Its like he wants the money and stuff back but had no guts to even send me a msg? &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*laughs*&lt;/span&gt; And apparently he wants the Nokia 6100 back, the $170 and everything. Fine.. I oso dun wan to keep them. So i asked him to give me back the wet tissues i left at his place, the straw stars that i folded for him, the tee shirts that i bought for him and also not forgetting the Nokia phone that i found and he traded it in for his own phone. Apparently, he had thrown them away. So i told him i'll deduct the cost of those things from the $170 that i owe him. And the bill goes like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Nokia phone = $100&lt;br /&gt;2) 2 Tee shirts i bought in Thailand = $20&lt;br /&gt;3) 1 Tee shirt i bought from Harley Davidson = $30&lt;br /&gt;4) 40 straw stars (i bought 1 drink each time) = $1.20 X 40 = $48&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Total (which he owes me) = $ 198&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;$198 - $170 (which i owe him) = $28.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He owes me $28. And i'm going to cut up the Zara jacket, dismantle the Nokia 6100, cut the socks he bought and scratch the CD he bought for me before giving it back to him. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Do you think i'm mean?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P/s: I've already discounted for him already. I'm nice!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110787161293468174?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110787161293468174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110787161293468174' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110787161293468174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110787161293468174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/its-just-pure-maths_08.html' title='Its just pure MATHS'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110786416911241331</id><published>2005-02-08T20:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-08T20:02:49.113+08:00</updated><title type='text'>HAPPY NEW YEAR! </title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110786416911241331?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110786416911241331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110786416911241331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110786416911241331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110786416911241331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/happy-new-year.html' title='HAPPY NEW YEAR! '/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110779568068713670</id><published>2005-02-08T01:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-08T01:18:58.450+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Coffee and Me</title><content type='html'>Had trouble concentrating the whole day.. As usual, i reached work around 10.50am and started to set up the fair outside the shop. I was sOoO busy throughout the whole day that i couldn't get my daily supply of coffee. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*pouts*&lt;/span&gt; Honestly, I felt that i don't function as well without drinking coffe.. I need my &lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;COFFEE&lt;/span&gt;.. I think Starbucks should consider making me their VIP member.. I go through like 2 big cups a day! And i don't drink Coffee bean! I'm awfully loyal!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, have been working so hard lately that i hardly noticed that its that close to CNY! I've worked like 8 days in a row, 10 hours straight (tomolo's the 9th!). Seriously, i think i work too much.. I feel tired both physically and mentally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng falls apart, dropping nuts and bolts all over the floor.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things happened so quickly that i haven got time to do anything for myself, let alone think about &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;. Like i need new paddings for my shoes.. eyebrow trimming.. need new heels for work.. need new bras.. boxer underwears from Topshop.. new bags..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;FUCK&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need more time for &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;. I want to spend more time with &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;. I miss being with &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt; alone. Its like i'm having a long distance relationship with ME. When i blog, its like i'm emailing &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng lets out a soft sigh.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I MISS ME.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did i mention that i met Patrick today on the bus? Apparently, he's sick and was on his way to the hospital. One thing about Patrick is that he's really one of the nice guys that i know BUT he just doesn't have to lady's luck! He's like always having crush on some gal but the gal always rejects him for some unknown reason. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; Maybe its true that gals like bad men? Maybe its just an addiction?! Are we gals all sadists? Why do we all enjoy being ill treated by men? Well its about time to get someone who treat us right!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was looking at the the calendar just now when it suddenly dawned on me that even though its the CNY holidays, i'm not exactly &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;FREE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;?! Its like everyday there are plans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Tue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working from 11am to 3pm and afterwards i'm going to do some last minute shopping with Daphne and Candice. Dinner at home. After dinner activities to be confirmed with Su ken and Patrick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Wed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Visiting my aunt and my fave nephews and nieces. (Mental note to self: Buy candies for them tml!) After that would be meeting with Candice and Daphne for more shopping and gathering at Mr Fang's place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Thurs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Meeting Huilin and gang at Woodlands before we head to Yufeng's house. Did i forget to mention that she just gave birth? We are going to visit her! Cant wait to see her daughter!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Fri&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Made plans to go to Sentosa, with or without company. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Sat &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working, but trying to see if i can get off..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;Sun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working! Damm!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Mon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Made plans to meet Candice and Daphne for V-day! Yes yes.. Its an angels' outing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;pHeWz*&lt;/span&gt; Boy, am i just exhausted from just typing out my plans! Really.. I just wanna lie flat and stone as long as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;LEAVE ME ALONE. GO FIND SOMETHING ELSE TO DO.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng drops on the floor, staring blankly at the celiing.*&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110779568068713670?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110779568068713670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110779568068713670' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110779568068713670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110779568068713670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/coffee-and-me.html' title='Coffee and Me'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110762267654309676</id><published>2005-02-06T01:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-06T00:57:56.543+08:00</updated><title type='text'>2 Coffees and 1 Runny Nose </title><content type='html'>Am super super hungry now.. Didn't eat anything today other than a piece of bread in the morning.. However, i did drank a whole of coffee today.. Had like 2 large Starbucks coffee.. Dunno why i just had no mood to eat even though i was hungry.. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; Maybe its because i was feeling fluish the whole day?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng stuff tissue up her nose, breathing only through her mouth.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday nite.. Am not going to watch movie tonight.. Instead, i went shopping alone at Citylink after work. Went into this shop and bought like 3 tops there.. One pink strips off shoulder, One black netted off shoulder and one white jacket.. Suddenly i'm quite obsessed with off shoulder tops. I think its kinda sexy when wore with jeans. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*winkz&lt;/span&gt;* I think i got nice shoulders so must show it off! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;=P&lt;/span&gt; Will take photos and upload it later..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think i shop like a man. I don't spend alot of time, trying on all the tops and take very long to decide on the colour and stuff. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I try, i like and i buy. 3 steps.. SIMPLE.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; I cant stand indecisive people. I do get some female customers who spend like 3 hours trying on every colour and every style and den end up unable to decide. Its soOo sOO sOO irritating.. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tsk tsk*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After buying the tops, i went to MPH just to check out some books. And guess what! I found the book, "Can you keep a secret?" !! Had to buy it like &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;IMMEDIATELY&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*grinz*&lt;/span&gt; I like chick lit.. I'm a very chick lit kind of person. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;blushes*&lt;/span&gt; I know this makes me look quite shallow but i like leh!&lt;br /&gt;Walked around a bit more and den went to HMV... Saw the table full of CDs that were priced at 3 for $20.. Bought 4 CDs (David Tao, Kylie, Blur and Leslie Cheung)..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng is&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt; very satisfied with her shopping, but unfortunately is $200 poorer!* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No plans to meet anyone tonight.. Not Roger.. Not even Su ken and gang for supper.. Am just going to kick back and enjoy my book and music!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110762267654309676?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110762267654309676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110762267654309676' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110762267654309676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110762267654309676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/2-coffees-and-1-runny-nose.html' title='2 Coffees and 1 Runny Nose '/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110753619099033675</id><published>2005-02-05T01:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-05T00:56:30.990+08:00</updated><title type='text'>JuSt wHen I thOugHt.. </title><content type='html'>Don't really have anything to blog about today... Jus wanna say that sometimes things happen just when you least expect i.. Is it possible that it might turn out to something good? I'm keeping mum until i'm sure of this.. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*winkz*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110753619099033675?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110753619099033675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110753619099033675' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110753619099033675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110753619099033675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/just-when-i-thought.html' title='JuSt wHen I thOugHt.. '/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110753688343558247</id><published>2005-02-05T01:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-05T01:32:33.020+08:00</updated><title type='text'>In tHe mOoD fOr LoVe</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Over Mountains&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Over Trees&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Over Oceans&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Oer Seas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Across the desert&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I'll be there&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;In a whisper on the wind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;On the smile of a new friend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Just think of me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;And I'll be there&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Don't be afraid, oh my love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I'll be watching you from above&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;And I'd give all the world tonight,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;To be with you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Because I'm on your side,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;And I still care&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I may have died,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;But I've gone nowhere&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Just think of me,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;And I'll be there&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;On the edge of a waking dream&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Over Rivers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Over Streams&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Through Wind and Rain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I'll be there&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Across the wide and open sky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Thousands of miles I'd fly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;To be with youI'll be there&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Don't be afraid, oh my love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I'll be watching you from above&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;And I'd give all the world tonight,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;To be with you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Because I'm on your side,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;And I still careI may have died,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;But I've gone nowhere&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Just think of me,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;And I'll be there&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;In the breath of a wind that sighs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Oh, there's no need to cry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Just think of me,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;And I'll be there&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110753688343558247?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110753688343558247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110753688343558247' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110753688343558247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110753688343558247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/in-mood-for-love.html' title='In tHe mOoD fOr LoVe'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110745207308361724</id><published>2005-02-04T01:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T01:34:33.083+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/117/2042/640/Picture%20047.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/117/2042/320/Picture%20047.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah ma's ShoEs&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110745207308361724?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110745207308361724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110745207308361724' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110745207308361724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110745207308361724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/ah-mas-shoes.html' title=''/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110744752695785464</id><published>2005-02-03T23:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-04T01:32:48.296+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Am JuSt a FiGuRe of Your OwN FuzZy ImaGiNaTioN</title><content type='html'>Took down the previous post cause i was re-reading my blog and really had a very good laugh at myself. Silly me.. I'm just who i am. Why should i be bothered by what others said about me? Esther, Ginger, Kiat and all the rest of the people in NTU? Hmm...i cant decide which version i like better? A slut? Or a pathetic gal who goes around hooking NTU guys? &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*considers seriously*&lt;/span&gt; I guess i like the second one better.. As least i'm supposed to be having sex in the second version... &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; Better than nothing right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, I've never denied the fact that i'm a slut. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*laughs*&lt;/span&gt; Read my previous posts, i'm a slut/bitch/tramp. Not that it is a fact to be proud of but neither am i ashamed of myself. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; Hello, not going to pretend to be innocent here.. Is there anything wrong with being comfortable with my sexuality? And going to NTU means i'm a bitch? &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*giggles*&lt;/span&gt; And rumours has it that i'm easy to pick up and brought home for a fuck?! Hahaha.. Please someone fuck me.. Cause i think my virginity is growing back! I need a fuck soon! If i am so easy to pick up, why am i still alone and not having sex?! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*considers*&lt;/span&gt; If i make it to my birthday without having sex, i'm getting a vibrator for myself. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;A PINK ONE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng laughs at how superficial the world can be.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh.. before i forget.. I love attention. They are quite right when they say i'm attention grabbing kind of girl. I'm such an exhibitionist~~!! Absolutely proud of my body and ain't afraid to show it off. I mean, surely you cant expect me to flaunt my sagging breasts and thunder thighs when i'm 80 years old?! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*raises her eyebrow*&lt;/span&gt; How scary can that be? &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shivers*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After reading &lt;a href="http://sometimesevenangelsfall.blogspot.com"&gt;his blog&lt;/a&gt;, i really laughed. I'm not quite sure we are talking about the same person here. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*smiles*&lt;/span&gt; I mean, he dated me.. Yet he had to listen to other people explain me to him? Esther and Ginger?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng counts using her fingers.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They like met me for less than 5 times each, each time is around less than a full day. And they actually understood me very well enough to explain all my thoughts and feelings? Who is the person they are talking about?! I think its just a figure of their own fuzzy imagination. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*giggles*&lt;/span&gt; Even i don't dare to say i understand myself that much, and they actually do?! Maybe they should explain myself to me?! What a joke! This will go down in the Hall of Fame in my relationship history. Its a real classic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm much happier today. Bought new shoes, went to TM to meet Su ken and Ah boon for dinner.. Had ice cream.. Yummy.. Will put up new photos of my shoes later..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110744752695785464?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110744752695785464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110744752695785464' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110744752695785464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110744752695785464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/am-just-figure-of-your-own-fuzzy.html' title='Am JuSt a FiGuRe of Your OwN FuzZy ImaGiNaTioN'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110737028651471731</id><published>2005-02-03T02:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-03T02:51:26.513+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Devoid of feeling? </title><content type='html'>Sleepless night.. Tossed and turned in my bed but i couldn't find peace in my heart i that longed for. I refuse to let this be on my mind. I really want to cry but tears would not come to my eyes. I want to feel the pain inside me, that was once so familiar. But i cant. What's wrong?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Am i devoid of feelings?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110737028651471731?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110737028651471731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110737028651471731' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110737028651471731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110737028651471731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/devoid-of-feeling.html' title='Devoid of feeling? '/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110736677542729771</id><published>2005-02-03T01:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-03T02:01:43.406+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ex in the City - Part 2 </title><content type='html'>Was watching this episode of “Sex and the City” about the ex boyfriends. I don’t deal very well with ex bfs. You see, I don’t particularly fancy hearing anything about their present girlfriends. Especially &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;NOT&lt;/span&gt; when they are having a wonderful time together! I don’t want to hear about it and have to go through the &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;“Why isn’t it me?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; phrase again.. Its not like I haven’t tried being friends with my ex. It just didn’t work out. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; I prefer not to know anything. Even if I met them on the streets some day, I’ll rather pretend that I don’t know them at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng looks around the room.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve always wondered how some couples could be very good friends even after their breakups? It seems like such a good and polite thing to do. But I’m not sure the thing about being happy for your ex bfs is suitable for me. Most of the time I wished they are either eaten by monsters or kidnap to another planet by aliens. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; Well, what can I say? I just don’t want them around me. Sure, they can be happy by all means. Just don’t let me know ok? &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I hate you and your gf.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think if I’m someone’s gf, I would appreciate it very much indeed if his ex gf steer clear. I mean its already so hard to try to hold on to a relationship, without having external forces.aka.ex gfs interfering. Gosh.. And not forgetting the danger of going into the murky grey area! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tsk tsk*&lt;/span&gt; That’s why I never never talk to my ex bfs anymore. I think its for the good of all of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know if the part about guys choosing &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;“simple girls”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; over &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;“complicated girls”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; is true? Does it mean I’m too complicated for a man to understand and that’s why I’m not in a relationship? Or am I just a &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;“wild girl”,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; waiting for the right guy to tame me down and take me for the ride of my life?! (Yesssh.. pun intended!) &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*winkz*&lt;/span&gt; I think all of my ex bfs found me too complicated to handle. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; But I’m not going to get all defensive and say things like I don’t agree with them. I guess I wanted things that were very different from what they want. Case closed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng puts all the ex bfs files into the cupboard and locks them up.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110736677542729771?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110736677542729771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110736677542729771' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110736677542729771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110736677542729771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/ex-in-city-part-2.html' title='Ex in the City - Part 2 '/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110735468486920238</id><published>2005-02-02T22:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-02T22:31:24.870+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/117/2042/640/Picture%20046.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/117/2042/320/Picture%20046.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mY LeGs&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110735468486920238?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110735468486920238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110735468486920238' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110735468486920238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110735468486920238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/my-legs.html' title=''/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110735426669617351</id><published>2005-02-02T21:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-02T22:24:26.696+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ex in the City </title><content type='html'>Back home from another day's work.. Kinda fun today cause Candice was here and it was like a gals outing.. Had lotsa of stuff to talk about..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually my day would have been quite good except for the fact i received an email this morning from &lt;em&gt;Levi.aka.Bf who broke up without a proper reason.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; You know, the last thing i want right now is to hear from my ex bfs. Seriously, since ex means in the past which means not in the present and definately &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;NOT&lt;/span&gt; in the future, they should stay in the past and just stay away from me! I don't wanna know what's going on with your life and i certainly &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;DO NOT&lt;/span&gt; want you to know anything about mine. Don't read my blog anymore. Its not doing you any good by knowing more about my life. I simpley refuse to entertain ex bfs anymore. Enough is enough. There should be a law stating that after you break up, you should just &lt;em&gt;disappear~~!&lt;/em&gt; Like vanish into the thin air or something...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh by the way, since i'm on the topic of ex bfs, &lt;em&gt;Kiat.aka.the Unfaithful one&lt;/em&gt; has found himself a new gf. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*Hurrays!*&lt;/span&gt; I don't know how should i react to this.. Should i be happy for him or should i be sad for the gal? &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*considers*&lt;/span&gt; Hmm.. I cant really decide.. Well, guess the only thing i could do was to grab the shortest skirt and my strappy heels from my closet and head out! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; I did feel alot better after wearing my skirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I can be such a bitch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was actually going to Zouk tonight but everyone else was broke and din want to go. Daphane and Candice both had something on. So i came home &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;ALONE&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*rolls her eyes*&lt;/span&gt; Oh.. I'm &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;NOT &lt;/span&gt;dateless this v day!! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*more hurrays~~!*&lt;/span&gt; Daphane, Candice and I are going out! Its a threesome! But i cant decide who i love more.. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*aWww*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've ordered two new books from Amazon.. They should be arriving soon.. I hope they'll come before CNY so i could bring them along when i go to Sentosa. Did i mention that i'm going Sentosa? I jus wanna go.. With or without my frens.. Maybe i'll just go alone and have some peace to myself. Its been a long time since i have some quality time with &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;MYSELF&lt;/span&gt;. Gosh.. Sometimes, its like i feel to suffocated. Whether its on the train, bus or just walking along the streets! There's just &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;TOO MANY PEOPLE&lt;/span&gt;! Maybe i should move to North Pole or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Life's too short to be spent with unnecessary people. I need some peace.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng hides in her closet, locking everyone OUT.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;PLEASE STOP READING AND GET ON WITH YOUR LIFE.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110735426669617351?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110735426669617351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110735426669617351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110735426669617351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110735426669617351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/ex-in-city.html' title='Ex in the City '/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110727593420957771</id><published>2005-02-01T23:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-03T02:33:38.226+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Add a daSh oF tHiS aNd tHat</title><content type='html'>Just when you think things are going well on the surface, the big current pulls you from under and swallows you without a trace. I want to scream, shout and cry the fuck out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I cant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to talk to someone. Talk to someone about anything. Anything to distract me. Tonight, just talk to me.&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt; *lets out a sigh.*&lt;/span&gt; I need someone.. Man or Woman.. I don't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Held Daphane's hand just now after work.. Felt kind of strange.. Maybe its because i've been yearning for physical intimatacy that i no longer cared if the person is a male or female. Or maybe i'm so disappointed in men that i've fallen for gals instead? &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shurgs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know.. My mind's a whirl.. I just wanna find a guy and throw myself at him. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shrugs*&lt;/span&gt; On second thoughts, its not worth it. I've done it before and all i got was nothing. Absolutely nothing but a shadow. But i'm not a shadow for goodness sake! &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I'M NOT A FUCKING SHADOW. STOP SAYING THINGS LIKE TAT.&lt;/span&gt; Its not that i'm hard to fathom. Its either they are too busy trying to change me to someone that i'm not OR they are not that into me at all. I've been hurt too times that i cant remember what its like to be in love. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Na behz..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng throws her hands up in the air.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm giving up. I don't feel like falling in love. I just wanna pretend that i'm having fun. Or do i really mean that? &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*rolls her eyes*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me, being ME, will always try to solve the problem. Since i cant find the prefect man, i guess i'll have to stare the problem straight in the face and &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;MAKE &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;ONE!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng takes out flour, eggs and water and mixes them in a bowl.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm quite sure i'll be able make a perfect man. Mould him into the Prince Charming of my dreams. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*starts to knead the dough*&lt;/span&gt; I think i'll add some humour and wit. Perhaps a dash of sexiness.. Not forgetting the most important of all.. charms! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*continues to shape the dough*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know.. If he turns out &lt;em&gt;"mouldy"&lt;/em&gt; instead of well moulded, I can always just eat him up! &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*shurgs*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;*tIng pops her perfect man into the oven and turns the knob for 10 mins*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While he's &lt;em&gt;"baking"&lt;/em&gt; in the oven, i guess i'll read my book ("Sex and the City") for awhile before i sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;loVe iS a deLuSiOn tHat OnE mAn dIffErs fRoM aNotHer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110727593420957771?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110727593420957771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110727593420957771' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110727593420957771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110727593420957771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/02/add-dash-of-this-and-that.html' title='Add a daSh oF tHiS aNd tHat'/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8524362.post-110718468007912572</id><published>2005-01-31T23:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-01-31T23:18:00.080+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/117/2042/640/Picture%20043.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/117/2042/320/Picture%20043.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pig Trotters for Sale &amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8524362-110718468007912572?l=confusingconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/110718468007912572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8524362&amp;postID=110718468007912572' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110718468007912572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8524362/posts/default/110718468007912572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confusingconfessions.blogspot.com/2005/01/pig-trotters-for-sale.html' title=''/><author><name>tIng</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
